Out
by BVB Army 2 Forever
Summary: A stolen kiss. A night of passion. And a mistake that can change everything. Blaine is convinced he'll never come out, until one day a fatal accident changes his life forever and he loses everything in a matter of seconds, and suddenly nothing in the world matters except a pair of blue eyes and having one last kiss.
1. A House is Not a Home

Author's note: This is my first time doing one of these. Other than articles in the newspaper, cheesy stories from my elementary days, and very few eyes reading this before I put it on here this is the first time I've ever really gone public with my writing. I'm only publishing this chapter tonight and it is a slow chapter with little involved, but this is kind of just the foundation of the story. I'll publish the second chapter tomorrow night-Blaine's chapter, where things start to pick up the pace-so if you enjoy this I'll update as soon as possible. Hopefully you all like this and stick it out through the slowest chapter in the story. Review and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee

* * *

At least once in a lifetime a person gets smacked over the head with a Wizard of Oz _I don't believe I'm in Kansas anymore _one-two punch. Kurt Hummel experienced this twice in eighteen years, once when he was eight years old and now, ten years later. Kurt had a very good reason to feel similar to Dorothy, except he didn't have a dog or little people singing to him to follow a yellow brick road. _Well, maybe I'm the reality version of Dorothy,_ he considered,_ because I don't think I would handle the fanciful version of this story quite as well as Dorothy did. _But, who wouldn't be concerned if a bunch of munchkins cornered someone, demanding he follow a yellow brick road?

Ten thousand feet in the air, Kurt's first class, air-conditioned, and flower-scented plane stuttered and the intercom crackled on. A voice mumbled over the speakers, "We ask that everyone fasten their seatbelts. The plane will be landing in a little less than ten minutes. Thank you for flying with us, and we hope you enjoy your stay in Lima, Ohio." Kurt blew out through his teeth and he closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around his seat buckle. Despite the belt wrinkling his cashmere coat he simply couldn't bring himself to care, not with his entire life on the line. His aunt had told him it took a person with guts to pack up his entire world and fly halfway around the globe for someone he loved, yet he was blind to his own bravery in any of this.

When he was eight years old his mother died, and though he didn't remember her much since she had lived in Paris taking care of her own mother until the awful car accident, he and his dad had flown the distance and attended the funeral in her honor. Kurt's mother's sister had taken control of helping with his grandmother. Burt—Kurt's dearly missed dad—had also, of course, stepped in and tried helping, but getting a job in a town outside of Paris and assisting Aunt Laurice pay the bills hadn't exactly been simple, especially with his being an American citizen, unsure of whether or not he would even remain in Paris. Finally, after five years of living in Paris, Burt was called by his own dad claiming that Kurt's grandfather had fallen ill. Torn between two worlds, Burt had considered his options and spoken to Kurt about it, who promised his dad that because he was thirteen years old he could start helping out with his grandmother and Burt could return to the states without worry. Burt eventually bent on his argument and headed for the states, leaving Kurt behind in Paris more by force than choice. Eventually Kurt's grandmother had passed, but Kurt, who had fallen in love with Paris, remained there with his aunt with dreams of one day being on French Broadway and belting out French love songs for his admiration of his country in front of millions of French people, all with the same adoration as he.

But all of those dreams were burned out the second an American doctor called him with word that Kurt was the only traceable family to his dad, and that Burt had had a severe heart attack. So severe, in fact, that the doctors hadn't a clue if Burt would even be there by the time Kurt got off his plane. Dreading this trip, dreading returning to the land which he'd been birthed to, Kurt blinked away hot tears threatening to spill over at how much he missed Paris. He didn't remember much of Lima, except that it resembled nothing of his true home. He wiped his eyes and stiffened his mouth to stop it from trembling, hating himself for being so selfish when his dad might die.

The plane smacked down on the ground ten minutes later and Kurt waited his turn to stand and hobble through the slim aisle, bumping bodies and bruising his shoulders along the way. A moment of jostling and maneuvering spat him out of his plane and into an airport three times less the size than his French airport. Even the signs here were strange, written in a bold English print, when before, in Paris, he was used to his first language being the highlight of signs and English being the fine print underneath.

Kurt simply wasn't sure he could handle this new life.

Wandering blindly through the airport, stumbling to read the signs and understand what the more challenging English words meant, he hushed down the urge to simply drop to his knees and sob a puddle of tears onto the floor. He wanted to go home. Wanted his father to be alright. Didn't want to spend his next year in any school except for his French academy. Here, Ohio had nothing for him. Paris was his heart.

He sucked up his swelling emotions perfectly poised to burst at any moment and put on the same old smile and dance for the man holding the sign that stated, _Mr. Hummel_. Well, it'd been the longest time since anyone had addressed him as _mister_. He was recognized for being _Monsieur Hummel_. The man acknowledged him with half of a nod, a bored expression upon his face as though he'd adore being anywhere but taking a language disabled foreigner to his dying father, "Mr. Hummel? I'll take you right to the hospital."

"_Merci_," Kurt breathed in a hushed tone, and at the man's strange face he remembered that here French wasn't exactly the top language to speak, but it was too late to retract his statement.

He simply stepped into the cab and tried to come to terms with the fact that here, in Ohio, he was the strange one.


	2. Don't You Want Me

Author's note: So, I get to update a little earlier than I thought today but I just spent at least four hours reviewing and typing this up so I hope it turns out okay. To the people who reviewed my last chapter, thank you so much! I honestly didn't expect anything out of this, so I'll try not to disappoint with this chapter. This chapter is a little slow to get through but I'll try to make it interesting, at least. I have most of this story's plot already locked away in my head, but any ideas are welcome so review and tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: Once again, I still don't own Glee

* * *

Blaine Anderson couldn't remember the last time he'd been relieved to get to school. This year, he was. A lifetime of classes in McKinley High, one hundred eighty days a year, and a thousand times of wondering if it was all worth it led him up to this, here and now, his senior year and being on top of the world. Well, McKinley High wasn't exactly the world, but it was his world, so he was on top of it. Star quarterback, hottest girlfriend, wildest friends, best parties. Oh yeah, he most certainly had it all. Grinning to himself as he strode into the school, he instantly encountered Karofsky and Azimio by the drinking fountain, threatening any kid who wanted a drink to just walk on by. "Hey! Karofsky, Azimio. Back in high school, senior year. We're gonna rule this place!"

Karofsky threw his hands apart, "Well, look who it is! The biggest asshole this school has ever met! Guess what we have to deal with, Anderson? Three kids transferred over. Freshmen, I think. And a foreign exchange student… our grade. Now we can cuss him out in two languages!"

Blaine laughed, tossing his head back, "Yeah, if either of you were smart enough to know a second language. You guys hanging out after for practice? I know neither of you got off digging for video games over the summer to actually practice."

Azimio slugged him on the shoulder as the trio started walking to first period, a pool of their peers splitting apart to open a pathway for them, "And, I know _you_, Anderson, didn't stop digging after Santana over the summer. You would think that after Quinn scared you with that baby boom last year you would have joined that dumbass celibacy club hosted by the queen slut herself. I bet Puck's having a good old time cleaning up that mess in his pants. I can't believe that girl would tell you that you were the baby daddy for money. Man, that's why I stay single. Girls can't be trusted."

Karofsky snorted, "And you're sure it's not just because girls think you're as pretty as a piece of shit?"

"Oh, sure, but Shirley Temple over there gladly picks up all the chicks." Azimio frowned at Blaine, who in return grinned from ear to ear while fondly stroking his heavy curls.

In that second Azimio parted ways with them to be sucked into the biology room. Karofsky, who took English first period with Blaine, continued on with him after departing from his extra limb, Azimio. Blaine, as they walked, glanced around himself at the refreshed, smiling faces chatting amongst themselves; freshmen scurrying to their classes, girls embracing and chatting amiably over summer flings, and… no Santana running up and smacking him with one of her wet, cold, and slimy kisses he found more frightening than a horror movie marathon. Frowning at the thought of his girlfriend's disappearance, Blaine followed Karofsky into the English room where they picked their usual seats in the back, far from the teacher's desk, miles from the chalkboard, and away from the majority of the other students.

The students trickled in one by one or in herds, every time leaving alone the empty seat beside of Blaine. No one really wanted to sit there because of his reputation and also because when Lumbly assigned group projects he assigned the groups by rows, and everyone knew that Blaine and Karofsky were renounced for threatening peers into doing all the work for them then giving them the credit for it. But it was a dog eat dog world. Every high school student had to either accept the food chain or be eaten. Simple as that.

Suddenly, the bell blared through the room, temporarily deafening Blaine, and Lumbly trotted in with arms full of books and papers that were beginning to slip free. No one bothered helping him because if the books slipped, that meant ten minutes of organizing and ten less minutes of listening to Lumbly drone on about why a period at the end of a sentence should not be compared to a woman's bodily functions, thank you very much, perverted high school boys. Blaine slumped over his desk and slouched down into his seat, reaching for his phone to text Santana the moment the door burst open again, alarming everyone into alerted silence. In rushed a small boy who was very beautiful, and he stopped in the center of the room and panted as he glanced around at a few whispering faces. Lumbly, startled by the dramatic entrance, arched his brows at the pale boy, "Do you have an excuse for being late, young man?"

The porcelain boy, otherwise the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever laid eyes on, brightened in his cheeks, his ocean blue eyes round with either terror or shock. Abruptly, a rapid-fire torrent of words—most likely in French—spewed from the boy's mouth, and giggling erupted, the whispers growing louder. Beside him, Karofsky chortled and shook his head in disbelief, "Is this kid for real? Does he even speak English? French is a dead language!"

Realizing why everyone was laughing at him, the boy clapped his hand over his lips, "_Oi! _I'm so sorry, I was—"

Lumbly sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck as though annoyed with the kid's show, "You must be Kurt Hummel, the foreign exchange student from Paris. Well, welcome, Kurt. If this class moves too fast for you, just let me know. I'm sure I can find a program for you to help you with your English."

"Yeah, special education classes," Karofsky coughed under his breath and Blaine ignored him, his eyes held captive by the French boy. He was the perfect product of Paris, his features so refined, porcelain, delicate glass all the way from the lanky, five-eleven stature to the slender shape, his body almost womanly in a way. His pretty hair was coiffed, a light, sandy color. His eyes were very round and so blue, a color that almost looked painted on instead of birthed with him naturally. His lips, a tantalizing, plush pink were so unfairly soft and full. A multi-shaded blue scarf hid his neck from view, and Blaine wanted to take it off of him and admire his silky neck. A white jean jacket wrapped his skin up tightly, a cherry red belt looped around a pair of white capris so tight they looked tattooed on, and Blaine was sure the kid had a struggle getting those on. A pair of white saddle boots cut off at the ankle finished his outfit off.

The kid—Kurt, the lovely one—followed Lumbly to his desk to discuss a plan for the year since Kurt's English was so choppy, giving Blaine a chance to glimpse at the way Kurt swayed his hips side to side as he walked, his elbows partially bent and his hands swinging casually—and, damn, had Blaine only seen Kurt from behind and didn't realize that his chest wasn't exactly a woman's chest, Blaine might have mistaken him for a very attractive woman.

And when Blaine admitted that, it was pretty damn obvious that McKinley had a gay on its hands.

"Dude," Karofsky smacked him on the shoulder, "You've been staring at that kid and chewing your pencil for the past ten minutes. Cut it out, you look as gay as his hair."

Widening his eyes, Blaine slapped his pencil down and tore his eyes from Kurt because, damn it all, Karofsky was right. He'd checked another guy out, head to toe, and that was something this Blaine Anderson simply didn't do. Something else donned on him a minute later, and he scanned his eyes over the room when he realized that the only open seat was the one right next to him. At first he wanted to believe that Lumbly would recognize this misfortune, but he just as eagerly wanted to get the language-disabled kid off his hands and send him packing to the seat exactly two feet from Blaine's.

Kurt demurely slipped into the chair, sending Blaine a coy glance from under his thick, long, blond lashes and—damn, did he smell nice, like he'd rolled around in a meadow before school. Curiously Blaine watched Kurt unpack his bag, three sharpened pencils appearing, two English books, a French-English dictionary, and—oddly enough—a bottle of perfume. Kurt spritzed his wrists and Blaine found himself smothered in the scent, unsure whether to get sick or breathe it in until it coated his lungs like a candy shell. All he knew was that the longer he breathed it in the more his stomach rolled, his skin itchy and sticky with little blasts of heat hitting him from out of nowhere—

"Ack," Karofsky covered his nose, revealing that the flowery scent had reached him, "What is that? Hey, new kid, you mind not spreading your fairy dust? You don't own the air so save the French perfume for an orgy with your boyfriend or whatever you do with him."

Kurt lifted his eyes from engraving the perfume on his wrists by rubbing his thumbs back and forth across them and he glanced past Blaine to Karofsky, "_Oi_, I'm sorry. I had no idea it bothered you."

Karofsky narrowed his eyes in a glare, "Well, it does. A lot. So just keep your fairy dust off of me. I bet you wouldn't like it if Blaine and I ripped that pretty little scarf off your neck and showed off that blazing hickey underneath, now would you?"

While Kurt touched the side of his neck with wide eyes, Lumbly cleared his throat noisily enough to rope in their attention, "Mr. Karofsky, this is not a free day just because it's the first day back. Those words are not synonymous, and if you actually paid attention in this class you might know what _that_ word meant. As I was saying, this year's project will be about showing appreciation for someone who changed the culture of America and you personally. But instead of forcing an essay out of you about some politician none of you care about, I thought I'd broaden your selections to doing whoever it is you idolize, even Miss Lady Gaga if she is what will get any of you to work hard. I expect you all to use this period to brainstorm on people to do for the project. Come in tomorrow prepared with three people and I'll give my approval or denial of them. Alright, in your groups, everyone. I expect progress!"

Karofsky glared cynically after Lumbly, "Sometimes I think that man gives these projects just so he doesn't have to teach." Rolling his eyes, Karofsky then arched his brows at Kurt, "Alright, fairy boy, get on it. I want this project done well."

Kurt visibly struggled with the command, the anxiety dripping from his eyes, "But… I don't know any American pop culture. You want me to write on… Lady Gaga? I know a little of her work, a few of her more famous songs…"

Silently watching the boy struggle through this, Blaine thought of how hilarious this had been when doing it to Jacob Ben Israel or one of those glee brats, but to do it to a foreign exchange student as naïve as Kurt seemed almost cruel. Blaine cursed himself as he swiftly interjected, "Karofsky, no. We've gotta put in some effort this time. My dad threatened the life of my car if my grades start to slip. And having a foreign exchange student do a project on American pop culture definitely won't get me the grade. So… we should probably meet up after school and give Kurt some names of people to research in his free time."

Karofsky started sliding out of his seat when the bell rang, "Whatever. Blaine, you're sounding _really_ gay right about now, so I'm just going to head to science and try telling myself that you're straight, okay? Even if it's to save your car, I still wouldn't meet up with _him _after school like it's some hang out party."

Blaine waited until Karofsky was gone to glimpse at Kurt, hoping the kid wouldn't take any of this as Blaine coming onto him. Even though he pulled pranks to be funny but wasn't exactly a harsh person and saved Kurt this time, this most certainly would not become a habit. His story was also partially true, that if his grades started slipping, consequences would fall right onto his lap, as painfully as a brick being dropped onto it. Starting with his loss of football and ending with his dad, who was hardly around enough to notice Blaine's grades. In fact, his dad's ignorance of him was probably the starting place of why he morphed into the school's biggest asshole, anyway.

Kurt, dragging him out of his thoughts, smiled shyly at him and a dimple popped onto his right cheek. _Damn, I didn't know boys could have dimples, _Blaine thought, wondering how Kurt could look so adorably childlike with that dimple and those round, soft, blue eyes. "Thank you for defending me. I'll work my hardest on the project. I'm sorry English isn't my strongest language."

Blaine, noticing a few over-the-shoulder glances and whispers, spoke loudly enough to ward off any concerns that he'd gone down face-first deep gay. "Yeah, I'm mainly doing this to save my car. So, your place tonight and I can teach you a little about American pop culture… other than Lady Gaga?" Who he was so not doing a project on.

The boy's blue eyes widened to the size of saucers, "Um… m-maybe not my house. I'd rather spend the night unpacking, thank you."

"Okay," Blaine shrugged, undeterred, "so I'll call you."

Kurt stiffened his spine as he stood from his chair, "You don't have my number."

"I live down the street from you. I know your dad. Burt." Blaine frowned, one brow cocking. At Kurt's uncomfortable silence, his hips swinging and a small set of teeth gnawing a precious, rosy lip, Blaine blurted in an undaunted tone, "Fine, Kurt Hummel, if you want to be difficult I can easily stand outside your window, throwing pebbles at it until you answer."

Kurt, seemingly stunned by the boldness, bit his lip as though considering running, but instead murmured, "I'd rather be alone tonight. Thank you for the offer, though." Kurt spun on his heel and drifted from the room, desperately glancing around as if unsure of where to go next. Gazing after Kurt as he skirted through the door, Blaine realized that, _damn_, had Kurt been a female just then, Blaine could have easily been accused of coming onto him. And, again, that was something he wouldn't ever do. Right?

Because he was Blaine Anderson. And Blaine Anderson liked girls.


	3. Push It

Author's note: Okay, so if you've stuck with this story, thank you! I tried to upload this last night but it was REALLY late and I was so tired and I didn't want to do a bad job on it, so I decided to wait until this morning. I have no idea when I'll be able to next upload since I can only do this on weekends and since it's Sunday it might be a while until I get chapter four up, where things really start to get interesting. This chapter wasn't really necessary or anything and there isn't a lot going on, but I had to put it in here to give the rest of the story the little push that it needed. So, if you're willing to read this, enjoy! I'm trying very hard not to disappoint. Review and let me know what you thought!

P.S. To everyone who has reviewed, I want you to know that I've read every single word and really appreciate it. Believe me, I almost cried tears of joy when I got my first review.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Glee (but will one day marry Kurt Hummel.)

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Kurt spat into the sink and blasted the water on high just to drown out the sound of his own sorrows. Setting his toothbrush aside, he splashed his face with water and blew out, flashes of memories of spending a childhood here in this home stirring in his mind. A home where his mom had once lived, and his dad still lived, or was trying to. Being at the hospital with his dad had been one of the hardest things Kurt had done in so long, arriving there and finding his dad so heavily under anesthetics that he could barely breathe. Not that he'd been awake at all to really notice the pain. And then leaving the hospital with the nurse's promises that they were doing everything they could, that Kurt had to exit the room for his dad's next x-rays, and that there was nothing left for Kurt to do. Hearing that had probably been the worst of it, that there was absolutely nothing he could do for his dad.

The phone blasted through the house and he rubbed his eyes with two tiny fists to clear the blurriness. He didn't really want to talk to _anyone_ or pick up the phone because he dreaded that it would be the hospital on the other end telling him to come in, that his dad had passed. Either that or it would be someone to judge him for his accent or the fact that English wasn't his strongest language. Sure, he could speak it well, but he would never be quite the same as a normal, eighteen year old boy born, raised, and living in the states. He would never fully belong here in Lima, Ohio.

He ran upstairs and picked up the phone from its cradle, reading the caller as _Anderson_. He wondered who that might be. Perching the phone against his ear, he murmured softly as he headed to the kitchen, "Hello?" _No more bonjour's._

As though stunned, the voice on the other end took a minute to reply, "Oh… wow. Didn't expect an answer. Hey. Kurt? Everything okay?"

Kurt opened one of the cabinets in search of something to munch on, "Blaine? Yes. I'm fine." _No, I'm not fine. I want to go home. I want my dad to be okay. I want my mom to be here. I really need a shoulder to cry on._ "Why did you call? How did you get my number?"

Blaine's laugh through the phone made Kurt weak, so close and comforting to him it sounded almost as if Blaine was right behind him, and for a moment he actually wanted to check and see for himself. "Remember… we were neighbors before you moved away. Are you sure you're alright? You sound… upset. Adjusting to the time zone?"

Kurt managed a small laugh, "Um… yes. I'm really tired. So, you called because…?"

"Because of the English project," Blaine interjected swiftly. "So… do you know of anyone? Jay-Z, Madonna, Usher? …Lady Gaga?"

At Blaine's reluctant tone, Kurt laughed aloud, "The French aren't so naïve. We are connected to the United States… I know _of_ them. And, personally, I think Gaga's vocals are enough to _go _gaga for."

"I'd love to agree, but Gaga isn't exactly my thing." Blaine admitted offhandedly, "Besides, Karofsky would rather be dead than do a Gaga project. Even if he did none of the work he wouldn't want the credit for it. Tell you what, meet me tomorrow morning in the library before English. I'll… go through books with you and introduce you to the art of American pop culture."

Kurt smiled to himself, "Why are you doing this, Blaine?"

Blaine blew out heavily and he was silent for a few seconds. Kurt almost double-glanced at his phone to assure he hadn't been hung up on when Blaine murmured, "Just trying to keep my car. I figure if I piss you off you'll ditch and I'll fail this. You might be French but you probably know how to do this better than I ever will. So… I should let you get back to what you were doing, huh? Can I pick you up tomorrow?"

Kurt frowned, "No… I'll drive myself. I'll be there by seven, okay? Goodnight, Blaine."

"'Kay," Blaine whispered, and Kurt could hear the springs of a bed creaking on the other end, "Goodnight, Kurt."

The line buzzed dead and Kurt set the phone down, aware that he had almost had a normal, decent conversation with Blaine Anderson. And he was actually kind of happy about it, knowing that somewhere deep down Blaine was a kind gentleman.

* * *

Blaine clicked his phone off and he burrowed into his bed, prepared to be demented by the end of the school year because of this kid. Licking his lips, he dialed another number and waited out the ringing while his stomach rolled and churned. Damn, if he didn't throw up in the next ten minutes. Hearing Kurt's lovely, high pitched voice through the speaker, almost crackling as though he'd recently cried, had been more soothing and satiating than any phone sex Santana had offered him. Wincing when booming laughter pierced his ear, he grated his teeth, considering cursing at Karofsky for doing this to him. "It's done," Blaine grumbled. "He'll be there tomorrow at seven."

"Yeah," Karofsky shouted, "there's my boy! I'm bringing Azimio, too."

Blaine's brows arched as though that were some kind of accomplishment for Karofsky, "Great. But, Karofsky, let's not get cruel, okay? Don't be _too_ damned homophobic. He barely knows how America treats gays… I think in Paris gayness is actually encouraged. I don't want some kid's suicide on my record, and I don't want to be tried for a hate crime. Got it? What are you gonna do to him?"

Karofsky exhaled a huffing sound, "Please, as if _any_ of us wants a record. We're just gonna give him a warm, McKinley High welcome. It'll be a relief staining those fancy boy clothes. They disgust me… make my eyes tired."

"Well, they're nicer than seeing your blood and sweat dried onto your jersey you haven't washed in months," Blaine snapped, then nearly slapped himself in the face. Why was he getting so freaking protective of this kid? It wasn't like he even knew Kurt, and often times people like Kurt didn't even faze him to care about them. At McKinley, gays were just as low as the majority of the glee club. "But… whatever. Just make sure to keep yourself in line. Fancy boy is probably too sensitive to handle cruelty. That or he'll bring his gay club to molest and convert us."

"French gays?" Karofsky snorted, "If they're as feminine as Hummel it'll be like hitting a woman. It might even feel a little wrong, hitting a guy so womanly. He may call his butt boyfriend, though, and suggest we have a foursome for a treaty."

Laying back on his bed Blaine stared up at the ceiling, imagining what those blue eyes would look like as Kurt was slapped in the face with a sticky, freezing Slushie. Round, confused, betrayed eyes, cheeks a rash red from the ice slashing them, the syrup oozing through his sandy hair and running down his porcelain face, staining it, the syrup causing his eyes to tear up and—"Blaine? You hang up on me, bro?"

He blinked his eyes to clear that horrendous image of Kurt Hummel. "No," he muttered lowly and cleared his throat. "Just… be there tomorrow. 'Kay?" Clicking the call off, he tossed his phone aside and rubbed his hands over his face. He wanted to go to the window and peek outside at Kurt's house, but the guilt surging inside of him like thick ropes of poison drowned out any ability to even think about Kurt without a pulsing headache or his heart thudding so hard he thought he'd crack a rib. He recalled his first time Slusheing anyone. Jacob Ben Israel, freshman year. Dumped a cup over his head without any stirrings of self-conscious hatred for what he'd done.

Maybe Karofsky was right. Maybe he was going soft… but not to the gay extreme. Definitely not that. Abruptly slugging his pillow in rage, he chucked the soft fabric to the window with a noisy curse. The pillow clunked against the glass, which must have stirred his mom's attention because he heard her footsteps coming from down the hall, then her small face peered inside cautiously, "Blaine, honey? Are you alright?"

Blaine was pulsing with the urge to scream. All because of Kurt Hummel. "Mom…" his voice was hoarse with hatred for Karofsky, for Azimio… and even for himself. Because of Kurt Hummel. "Who are the Hummel's?"

His mom frowned and inched inside, "Well, I don't know them that well but you must have met Kurt, Burt's son. He recently came back from Paris because of Burt's heart attack. Your father says Burt had to leave Kurt behind in Paris because his mother had died and he wanted to take care of his grandmother. The family isn't doing so well. If his father passes, I don't think Kurt will have any other family except maybe an aunt in Paris. Sweetie, try to make him feel welcome. Coming to a different country because of a sick relative… Kurt's being very brave and strong for his age, especially since he wasn't even preparing for this and must hardly know English. Be nice, okay?"

Mulling over that after his mom left, Blaine turned his face to the window and met eyes with that little house snuggled up on the corner. In years Blaine had never cried. When his dad left for months at a time he didn't cry. When he saw someone being tormented severely he didn't cry because that was how they always viewed him… cruel and harsh. He didn't even cry for himself. But in that moment Blaine pressed the back of his knuckles to his lips to hold down a low sob because he realized that he would never have that much courage.

He would never be as strong or as brave as Kurt Hummel, who was taking every bullet alone with no one there beside of him to encourage him.

He had the courage that Blaine craved after, but between his reputation and having the ability to speak out for a group of people he wasn't even sure he could side with, he decided to play it safe and stick to what he knew, torturing others… and himself.


	4. Happy Days are Here Again Get Happy

Author's note: Hey again. So, I haven't updated in a long time and I apologize to those who I upset. If you're not aware, this is chapter four of this story and... yet again, no fluffy Klaine scenes. I know, horrendous, right? BUT the good thing is that while I'm updating this chapter, I just finished writing chapter nine in my journal. And I can promise not only fluff but KLAINE KISSES. So, there's a lot to look forward to in this story. Kurt+Blaine+Kissing=What's not to love? Once again, I apologize to anyone who's dying for some fluff but it's coming very, VERY soon. I swear. Okay, I'm finished now and promise to update tomorrow night with chapter five, so enjoy and review!

* * *

Kurt, missing the sounds of the busy, French city musically cascading to his ears, walked toward his nearly empty school. An hour before the first bell, only four or five parked cars rested in the parking lot, and he knew that one of them belonged to Blaine, which excited him. Kurt had never been intimate with a boy. He'd never had a boyfriend, actually. He was as pure and untouched as a baby penguin. So, of course, Kurt was very curious about Blaine, who he thought that, although he was a bit distant, was very gorgeous. He was a bit shorter than Kurt, and he had a muscular build. He had a wild head of coffee colored curls, and the most beautiful, golden eyes Kurt had ever seen. Despite the lack of wearing any emotions on his sleeve, Blaine's gorgeous eyes revealed every feeling that he went through, letting Kurt in somehow… if only Blaine would tear down the reserved walls for only a moment.

But, with his looks, Blaine had also seemed very nice to Kurt at times.

Heading towards the back entrance that pooled straight into the library Kurt froze at the sound of echoing laughter. Did Blaine invite friends… or Karofsky? He shuddered at the thought, hoping for some simple—and possibly flirtatious—one-on-one time with Blaine. He pushed through the doors and peeked toward the librarian's desk, discovering it to be empty. He softly called out Blaine's name, wandering between bookshelves. "Blaine?" He breathed through his teeth, a smile playing on his lips as a pair of shoes clapped against the floor behind him. _Blaine,_ he thought with relief and whirled around, only to stumble backwards as something chilled and sharp slapped him in the face. Gasping, he brought his hand up to his scuffed cheek and widened his eyes on Karofsky and another kid just as big as him. Staring at the pair and the empty cup in Karofsky's hand, another full cup of melting, red syrup in the other kid's hand, Kurt backed into a bookshelf. He started to plea for them to stop when the sticky liquid dripped into his eyes, blinding him with a stinging burn.

"We thought we smelled your fairy dust around here," the kid beside Karofsky commented casually, stalking toward a stiffening Kurt. "And me and Karofsky… we don't want it around anymore. I feel paranoid just walking by you, knowing you're probably raping my ass with your eyes—"

"Kurt!" Someone else hollered through the library, and Kurt blinked through his tears—half because of the syrup, half because of his humiliation—to spot Blaine jogging up to them, his eyes wide and jaw slacken, "Kurt…" His eyes shot to Karofsky and narrowed on the empty cup. "_What_ did you think you were doing, Karofsky?"

Karofsky spread his hands innocently, "Oh, don't worry, Blaine, Azimio and I got one for you." Smirking at Azimio as though he'd accomplished something award-worthy while Kurt anxiously ran his fingers through his dripping hair, Karofsky gestured to the French boy. "Blaine, would you like the next honors? When Blaine told us about your little study date we thought it was so pathetic that you thought he was being serious that we decided to pity you. So, your choice, once we're done here do you want the locker, dumpster, port-a-potty, or maybe a patriotic wedgie—?"

"Wait," Kurt's round eyes snapped to Blaine's wounded expression, "you told them? You never meant it! You never wanted to study with me—!" Gasping when Azimio lunged at him and attacked his favorite pea coat with devastating, red dye, Kurt barely noted a bell ringing before Azimio and Karofsky chanted Blaine on to dump his. Blaine, whose stunned eyes drank in the sight of a teary eyed, dripping wet Kurt, glanced down at the Slushie in his hands, then slid his eyes back up to Kurt. Kurt shivered and frantically wiped his eyes, and Blaine had to stop himself from taking him against his chest.

Blaine shoved the Slushie back into Karofsky's hands, "Stop. I don't want you to hurt him."

Looking at a crying Kurt, Blaine tried to tell him that he was safe now, but Kurt didn't seem to understand. Blaine shook his head and he whipped around, slamming out of the doors with two protesting jocks on his heels, the last Slushie forgotten to be used. Kurt remained shivering in the library, happily avoiding the mob of kids just waiting for something else to mock about him. His entire body ached from the freezing cold of the Slushie, his beloved clothes ruined and his hair wet. But he was most upset that Blaine had betrayed him, and he wanted to cry about it somewhere.

"The first time is always the worst," a quiet voice murmured from between the bookshelves, then a small face peered out at him, "Hello. I'm Rachel Berry. You must be Kurt Hummel. We take math together. I see you've already met Blaine, Karofsky, and Azimio. I'd stay away from them—Blaine, especially. He pretends to be your friend then keeps setting you up for Karofsky and Azimio's traps. They do his dirty work—he just gets the pleasure out of watching us… the losers… suffer. This is _his_ world."

Kurt picked another piece of Slushie off of his sleeve, "But… he was so nice to me."

"Blaine isn't nice to anyone," Rachel hesitantly emerged from the shadows, revealing herself to be a short, plain looking girl. "Except those on his level, which includes Karofsky, Azimio, Santana, and formerly Puck, Finn, and Quinn. Finn was king of this school, star quarterback and everything… until he chose glee club over football and Coach Beiste saw that Blaine was so much better and nothing would distract him from football since his only other hobby was torturing his peers."

Kurt forgot about the Slushie smeared over him and he concentrated on Rachel's reluctant words, "And Quinn and Puck?"

Rachel huffed out a humorless laugh, "Well, last year… Blaine really broke some hearts, including mine. He started being randomly sweet to me… and he gave me my first kiss by the lockers. I sent him some… provocative pictures of myself and soon enough they were posted all over the school. I realized that Blaine was simply bored and I had amused him for a little while. I should have known something was wrong with me being with someone as popular as Blaine because Karofsky and Azimio were relentless with their pranks. And Blaine was always there to see them happen, but he never tried protecting me. Days after that I saw Blaine and Quinn… doing nasty things with their mouths in the back of his car, and about a month later she came to him squalling about him getting her pregnant. Of course, the baby was Puck's, not Blaine's, but it definitely could have been his by the way he reacted. Now he's with Santana and with her reputation there isn't a doubt in anyone's mind that they've done it. So, we're just sitting back, betting money on when he'll get _her_ pregnant."

Kurt had no words for that, but even in the seriousness of the situation a chunk of ice dropped off of him and caught Rachel as humorous, and she kindly reached out to grab his wrist. "Here, you must be miserable in those clothes. I'll wash you up and let you dry off in the choir room. I'm sure Mr. Schuester won't mind. Perhaps he'll even let you sit in on glee club. Won't that be fun, giving you a sneak peek of how powerful my vocals are."

Kurt wanted to say no because he was still upset, but he didn't want to be rude, so he nodded his head, "Okay. Rachel, is glee club like a singing club?"

"Precisely," she looped her arm through his. "Glee club is my calling since I _will_ be in New York on Broadway one day. Can you sing, Kurt?"

Kurt thought fondly of the French ballads he used to belt out with the rest of his academy choir. An entire club dedicated to singing? Well, maybe this school had some perks. "I sing," he admitted with a cheerful smile. "I love to sing. I might need refreshed on English songs, though. I can make an attempt at Gaga."

Rachel appreciatively laughed and pushed him into the girls' restroom, shoving him down on the sink counter, "I think everyone knows Lady Gaga. Today I suppose you can sing a French song, just so we can adjust to the tones of your voice, then we'll get you warmed up to American artists. If you want to join, that is. We really need recruits and your accent can add great variety to the glee club, which can be very advantageous at competitions. Maybe we can even get you a French solo or two at Sectionals. The language change will stir up the judges' interest. Vocal Adrenaline won't stand a chance if we have a foreigner in the club!"

He furrowed his brows at her enthusiastic fist pump, "You know… I was born American. Only by heart am I French."

Her eyes widened as though she was really surprised, "You're kidding! Because you really sound and look French! You even smell French!"

"_…Merci?_"

Kurt was happy she was so excited to have him join glee club, but he couldn't forget about Blaine… he wanted to know why he had protected him.


	5. Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?

Author's note: So, hi there. Welcome to chapter five. This chapter is when the rest of the glee club kids get introduced-for the most part. Next chapter will be a lot of Klaine interactions, fluff, partial angst, and romance. It's one of my favorite chapters so when I get it updated I hope all of you enjoy it. For now, here's this chapter to enjoy :) Review!

* * *

Blaine strode through the hallways considering feigning sick and leaving after three periods of shit. He'd been so distracted with thoughts of Kurt and the disappointment that every nightmare had come true about Kurt being slugged in the face with a Slushie that he'd been caught daydreaming in every class and nearly received a detention for it. But reality was worse, because Kurt had really been experiencing those things, feeling those things, probably thinking the nastiest things about Blaine and how he betrayed—

"_Baby!_" cried a sharply accented voice, and Blaine's eyes flicked to the Latino girl racing up to him. "I haven't seen you in _forever!_"

Wriggling in the clasp of Santana's arms once she snatched him up, he embraced her more out of the automatic reaction and label their relationship had than him missing her, "You saw me two weeks ago."

Santana frowned and smoothed a hand through his mass of curls, one falling across his forehead at her touch, "Where were you this morning? I was looking for you."

_I was kicking footballs around that I imagined were Karofsky and Azimio's heads. _He shrugged a shoulder, "I guess we don't have any classes together yet. Where are you headed?"

Santana checked her nails, avoiding his eyes with suspicious determination, "Ack… glee club. Listen, my dad's making me do an extracurricular class this year or else I won't graduate. And I definitely don't do wrestling, chess, or play the trombone, so glee club is my only option. Walk me there. I might have to crash at your house tonight, by the way. Are your parents out of town?"

Blaine grimaced and linked fingers with her when she grabbed his hand, "Santana, just because you want to sleep with me again doesn't mean you _have_ to crash at my house. Besides, I have some stuff to do."

"Stuff more important than _me_? _Just_ isn't exactly the right word to use, either, Blaine. I gave you the best sex of your life." Santana made him want to yell at something. "You know what Karofsky told me? That you've been acting really gay lately. And that you've been really protective of that French kid—"

"Kurt," Blaine snapped, stopping outside of the choir room with Santana, who he wasn't even sure could sing or not. "His name is Kurt, Santana. Damn, why are you all obsessive over him? No one brought him up but you. Just… leave him alone. He's not bothering anyone."

Santana shot him a glare over her shoulder as she slid inside the door, "You see, that's where you're wrong. He's bothering you, which means he's bothering us. If he turns you gay, I'll be your gay beard, and I'm _no one's _gay beard. Get it?" She snuck inside of the classroom without a flick of her eyes over her shoulder.

Blaine, who had never been past the choir room before, glanced briefly inside and watched his girlfriend slide past Puck. It almost seemed as if she brushed his arm with her fingertips, and he noticed Puck smirk after her. _Huh,_ Blaine thought with a hint of paranoia, _that's not supposed to happen._ He was about to turn away and head for football practice when the sound of Bust Your Windows blared out of the speakers and a few people toward the front of the classroom squealed. Leaning quietly in the doorway, Blaine flicked his eyes to the sight of Mercedes, Rachel and… _Kurt?_… putting on a dancing show to the beat of the music. Could Kurt sing? The quarrel from earlier had left Kurt stripped to a white tee shirt that exposed a slender body and a pair of white skinnies, his coiffed hairstyle replaced with a good looking copy of his first style. Oh, the way Kurt could move his hips, rolling and shimmying his hips.

Mercedes and Rachel suddenly squished Kurt between them and the three burst out laughing. Abruptly, the music cut off and Schuester strode in from his office, eyeballing the trio of pink cheeked, panting performers. Rachel, as usual, piped up, "Mr. Schuester, I found a new recruit! This is Kurt Hummel, a product of Paris, France. He's in Lima for his senior year. But… he sings both French and English. I was thinking that the judges at Sectionals would be mind boggled if we have a French on our team! And Vocal Adrenaline wouldn't stand a chance."

"You're kidding!" Schue's mouth fell open and he gave a blushing Kurt a once over, then recovered quickly and held his hand out. "Well, welcome, Kurt! We're grateful to have you. Would you mind singing something?"

Kurt glanced between an encouraging Mercedes and Rachel for a confidence boost. He parted his lips and hummed to a French melody that had Blaine teetering on his heels. Kurt's falsetto sent chills up Blaine's spine, his voice soaring through octaves so high that Blaine wondered if this was real. Kurt's voice, despite Blaine being unable to understand the beautiful words, was sugar to his ears, sweet, pure, so raw and open that for a second Blaine wanted to run in there, throw Kurt over his shoulder, and take him somewhere his voice could never be heard by any ears but Blaine's. He wanted to keep Kurt to himself, his voice, his delicious smile, and those round, cerulean eyes. Damn, his voice did strange things to Blaine, melting his blood down to hot, fiery honey, and drying out his thirsty, aching mouth.

_What_ was he saying? If those thoughts weren't gay at all he didn't know what was!

Kurt ripped out a blaring finale note and sank into a soft yet heart breaking ending, causing Blaine to shudder and stumble on weak legs. Damn, did he want to hear more.

He shifted his weight from leg to leg, observing the same reactions on everyone else's faces that must have been mirrored on his. Jaws smashed to the floor and even Rachel, who had more of an ego than Madonna, seemed a bit uncomfortable that her stardom should be so threatened. At last, Schuester cleared his throat and blinked away the dryness from his wide eyes, "Well… wow. I-I guess I'll be the first to say that you're very, very welcome to glee. Do you know any American songs, Kurt?"

Kurt blushed and smiled, shaking his head, "Not many. But I'll learn anything you want me to."

Rachel swiftly interjected on Kurt's behalf, "You know, Mr. Schue, Kurt performed in French Broadway at fourteen. A French version of The Phantom of the Opera."

Brightening a shade, Kurt cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt, "Not—Not a big part. Nothing notable."

"Still, that's more than any of us have to say for ourselves," Mercedes bumped her hip into Kurt's, almost nudging his fragile form sideways. "Mr. Schue, I think that when we go to Sectionals you should give Kurt a French solo. It'll lock in a win. Vocal Adrenaline might have the choreography, professional image, and Jesse St. James, but _none_ of them have done Broadway and none of them can ever _think_ to do French, even if they wanted to."

"I agree, Mercedes," Schuester commented, "Kurt, we're very glad to have you. Since you're going to have to learn to sing in English I'll work with you alone today. Everyone else, break into groups. Let's have a sing-off week. Kurt, in my office?"

Blaine remained standing there until Kurt was long gone, but for whatever reason he continued watching everyone scatter to be in his or her best friend's group. Narrowing his eyes on those who remained seated, he released a soft gasp when Santana whipped around to face Puck—the only two left without groups. Puck grinned from ear to ear, murmuring something to her then leaning down and—

Kissing her.


	6. Pure Imagination

Author's note: Hello again. So... seriously sorry about the whacked schedule when it comes to updating! I'm trying to get them up every Friday and Saturday night no matter how late it is, and even though it does damage to me the next morning it's all worth it in the end. So, I believe I've decided to write a sequel to this about Klaine's life after high school and I'm thinking about making it a lot more humorous than this one is. Review and tell me what you think about calling the sequel Courage, and I need some ideas for baby names.

* * *

Kurt drifted through the remainder of the day in some kind of dream. Despite his ruined outfit, his classes sped by painlessly and every time he walked a new hall someone from glee club waved at him, smiled at him, or even joined him. While yesterday he'd eaten lunch alone, today his friends yanked him to their table and talked to him like it was natural. No strange looks for his accent; in fact, it might as well have been a good thing. At last, the school day drifted to a close and Kurt wandered outside half dazed, half satiated. At least he'd made friends and could go see his dad now, but something like a sharp pain was still wedged into his gut.

Ignoring it and shrugging it off as a bad salad at lunch, Kurt opened his car door when a rustle in the distance alerted him. He glanced up just in time to see the entire football team herding around the football field, wedged in the thin crevices of openings the bleachers offered. A few snickered at something and started slapping each other, and Kurt, who had been warned relentlessly by Rachel to stay away from them, began to turn back to his car. Suddenly, though, the football team exploded apart and a furious, Latino girl stormed through them with Blaine on her heels, his curls spiraling in each direction as though he'd tugged at them. Kurt frowned. "You know what," the girl threw her hands in the air, "forget it, Blaine. Screw you."

"Oh, you've already done that," Blaine snatched her wrist, ignoring her shriek of protest. "And apparently you screwed Puck, too!"

Santana threw her head back with a low scream, "Let me go, Blaine! When I'm getting told from Karofsky that my boyfriend's acting as flipping gay as that freaking, French hermaphrodite—"

Blaine's jaw hardened, "Oh, so just because I defended Kurt gives you every right to sleep around? Santana, I don't give a shit if you cheat on me because I don't want you, but Kurt _is a boy_. He's not a hermaphrodite and I'm not gay for him. Maybe I'm just tired of these childish games." Shaking his head in disapproval, Blaine jerked away from her and raced around the corner of the football field.

The Latino girl, still trembling from either anger or fear, cast a glare to the onlookers. "Okay, okay, there's no show to watch. Keep walking."

Kurt tore his eyes away from the scene as the girl passed her eyes over him and he jerkily hopped into his car. The entire ride home Kurt couldn't stop thinking about how Blaine kept defending him. Usually he would have played music on his drive home, but this time he didn't. He needed to think clearly. Blaine _had_ protected him, hadn't he? And it seemed sincere. But what about what Rachel said? Blaine wasn't kind to anyone, and she had made the mistake of believing that Blaine was her very own prince charming. _I'm so very lost, and my perfect day has just gone to worst day in about ten seconds._

Sighing, he pulled into his driveway at the exact moment his phone buzzed, and without checking the caller he answered swiftly, "_Bon_—er—Hello?"

"Kurt?" replied a shaky, thick voice, swollen from significantly noticeable crying. "Where are you?"

Kurt hesitated to step out of his car, "Blaine? I just got home. Why, where are you? Blaine, are you hurt?"

Blaine's voice quivered, "I… I don't know. Listen… Kurt… I'm so sorry for what happened this morning. My mom told me… told me everything about you and I-I didn't know—I thought I'd come in time to stop Karofsky and Azimio—"

"No," Kurt whispered in a half cooing tone. "No, Blaine. Hush. I've forgiven you. I lost a Prada jacket very near and dear to my heart, but what's important right now is why you're crying. Where are you, Blaine?"

Kurt's kindness to Blaine seemed to probe the wrong nerve that shouldn't have been probed because the next sentence Blaine spoke was so overwhelmed by tears that Kurt could barely understand him. Finally Blaine gulped down a long breath and managed, "I'm… I'm in the locker room. I drove in with Santana this morning and my parents are out of town… No one else will answer their phones. I know you probably hate me but please come back. I swear that this isn't a prank; Karofsky and Azimio ditched me. I just… I really need you right now."

Something inside of Kurt zapped alive at the word _need_. _I've always wanted to be needed._ Kurt thought remorsefully of the academy where it seemed everyone was needed by someone… except for him. But what if this was another trap? Still, Blaine had too much on the line to break down crying to Kurt, even if the tears were just part of a skit to lure Kurt in. He felt a soft sound slip from his throat, "I'll be there in five minutes, Blaine. Come outside, okay? I'll meet you out front—"

"Wait!" Blaine blurted with a hint of desperation to his voice, "Please, don't hang up, Kurt. I don't want to be alone right now. Can you talk to me while you drive?"

_How strange,_ Kurt locked the car into reverse and backed onto the road, then clamped his shift down on drive, "I have nothing to say, Blaine. We could discuss the English project, I suppose—"

Weakly, Blaine interrupted him, "Can you sing for me… in French? Like that song in glee?"

Kurt, hoping he could get this Blaine thing over with before the hospital visiting hours retired for the night, murmured softly, "How did you know I sang in glee?" He waited for Blaine's answer patiently, but other than the sound of paper rustling Blaine denied him an answer to the question. Figuring he would find out later, Kurt parted his lips and released the first note to a French lullaby his mother used to sing him to sleep with. He formed the notes into French words, his voice quiet and measured, never spanning too broadly or contrasting sharply.

Vibrating his throat into musical notes, it donned on him that he was singing a lullaby to a broken boy who apparently ruled the world. And it felt so natural that Kurt had almost never felt as secure with his singing as he did in that moment. He spanned out the last note a little longer than he should have, just because it sent honey rolling through his blood at how good it felt singing that song to Blaine. He wondered if singing over the phone and not seeing anyone's judging face helped, or maybe, for whatever reason, it was just a Blaine thing.

The man on the other end of the line silenced to the point that had it not been for crackling noises in the background he would assumed he'd been hung up on. "Blaine?" he whispered, "You okay? Did I bore you to sleep?"

Again, Blaine's reply required a little patience to wait for but at last he said erratically, "Kurt…? You have a really pretty voice."

Kurt smiled as he spun his car into McKinley's parking lot, driving into the empty school exterior. Spying a lone figure cramped against the brick wall, his jacket hood pulled over a mass of the most untamed, unruly curls Kurt had ever seen, Kurt clicked his phone off and pulled up to the curb near Blaine. Sliding out of his car, Kurt cocked his head at Blaine, who kept his cold, cynical eyes toward the sidewalk. "Well," Kurt commented frivolously, "no Slushies yet. I appreciate that. These pants are gorgeous _without_ snack products smeared on them."

Blaine didn't react to that statement, so Kurt invited himself to approach the calloused boy and slide down on the walkway beside him. Grimacing at the thought of the gravel staining his white skinnies, Kurt arched his brows at Blaine, "Blaine… are you okay? I saw you with Santana earlier, and I want to thank you for defending me."

Blaine picked invisible fuzz off his jacket and flicked it into the wind, "Can I ask you something?" Without warning Blaine flashed his warm, topaz eyes to Kurt, the irises growing wide as he met Kurt's blue gaze straight on, "People just started… calling you gay when you came here. But you haven't denied it. So… are you gay?"

Kurt's face revealed no emotions, "I… I'm gay. I came out two years ago. Does that bother you?"

After a long pause, Blaine shook his head and returned his eyes to his lap, "Not… Not the way it should." He suddenly scooted closer to Kurt and their thighs brushed, and Kurt's skin tingled, "Kurt… how'd you know you were gay?"

Pursing his lips, Kurt wriggled a little, "If you're wondering if I've kissed anyone… I haven't. I've never really been intimate with _anyone_. I've never had a boyfriend, actually. I guess I know… because it feels right to me. What… What about you, Blaine? Why do you do what you do? You're not happy being a bully, are you?"

That word caused Blaine pause, and he reached over and mindlessly rubbed Kurt's thigh. "No. Last year sort of… woke me up. When Quinn tricked me into thinking she was having _my_ baby, I realized that I had nothing to offer a child. That's when my kingdom started to crumble. I really wanted to do something with my life, Kurt. I don't want a football scholarship. I don't know _what _I want. I just… want out of Lima. And that'll never happen because maybe two out of the three hundred seniors will get out of Lima, you being one of them. I'll live here until I'm thirty, realize how depressing Lima is, head to Vegas, knock up a girl like Santana, and—"

"No," Kurt laid his hand on Blaine's shoulder, fascinated by the thick stretch of muscle under his fingertips. "Hey… Blaine… listen to me. I didn't move to Paris because I won an award. My mom died, and my grandmother was dying. It was horrifying and I was terrified to go to Paris, but now it's my home. It's where I belong. My mom's death still hurts, but moving to Paris… there was nothing wrong with that. You might have next to no connections to get out of Lima, but I believe in you. You'll find something to help you on your way. Because you have something the rest of them don't. Courage."

Blaine worked a weary smile onto his lips and he nudged a shoulder into Kurt's playfully, "You're what most people call a hopeless dreamer. It's okay, Kurt. I'm starting to come to terms with my future. But… can I ask you just… one more question? Uh… every year there's a homecoming football game… and afterward the senior class meets up at one of the football player's houses and we have a giant party. I'd like you to come, Kurt. With me."

A dimple popped onto Kurt's right cheek, "Um… I don't know. I'll consider it, but I don't ever make decisions thoughtlessly, Blaine Anderson. Now, come on, I'll take you home."

Kurt jumped up onto his feet like a jack in the box, but, as though it were automatic, he spun on his heel and held his hand out to a smirking Blaine.

Although no one had ever lent him a hand before, Blaine managed to take a breath and slid his fingers through Kurt's. And, for the first time ever, he noticed just how soft and warm Kurt's hands were. Just like the rest of him.


	7. Time Warp

Author's note: Hello there, reader. This is my longest chapter so far and I just spent over five hours sitting in a hard chair, staring at this screen, typing, and playing my Glee albums over and over. Thankfully I wrote this weeks ago and just had to type it up now, because if I was starting from scratch at this moment when I've been deprived of food and sleep for hours I have a feeling it would suck. Anyway... KLAINE KISSES in this chapter. Yay. Speaking of Klaine, I really got two fish today and named them Kurt and Blaine. My friends call that obsession; I call that a dear, dear love for two BEAUTIFUL BOYS. Okay, I'm done now because I'm really tired and hungry and need to get out of this chair so... enjoy and review!

P.S. I totally forgot to put my disclaimer of _I do not own Glee and never will_ on my last two chapters, so I apologize to anyone who thought I suddenly inherited Glee. If I did it'd probably be fluffy Klaine all the time but I do not own Glee (Ryan Murphy does.)

* * *

Blaine, huddled in the passenger seat of Kurt's car, flicked his eyes up and was startled to find himself in Kurt's driveway. Kurt casually bent to scoop up his beloved jacket, clicking off the radio as he lifted upright again. Swinging his door open, Kurt turned his vividly blue eyes on Blaine, "Aren't you coming in? It's only me in there. You can clean up and get something to eat. I'll make you some soup, okay?"

Furrowing his brows, Blaine pushed his hood off of his suppressed curls, "Don't you have better things to do than take care of me?"

Kurt sighed, his fingers squeezing the steering wheel, "I was going to visit my dad today, but the hospital promised to call if they noticed any movement. Until then, I'm as good as useless. Besides, my dad would want me here with you now."

Blaine pursed his lips and unbuckled his seatbelt, "I don't know… It'd be kind of nice knowing you were looking after me if I got hurt. I really hope your dad's okay, Kurt. When you bring him home I'd like to help out in any way I can."

The comment etched a sorrowful smile onto Kurt's lips, "_Merci_, Blaine. I just hope… I do get to bring him home. I really regret… not spending the last five years with him. The last time he saw me in person I was thirteen years old. I have missed him… but Paris… it's my home, Blaine. It's where I belong."

Yearning to reach out and touch Kurt, Blaine stiffened his hand to avoid the urges, "Your dad's gonna be fine, Kurt. Okay? He's got you to look forward to seeing again. You're reason enough for him to heal."

Kurt bit down on his lip and wriggled out of the car, leaving Blaine behind as he strutted up to his door. Blaine stepped out of the car less gracefully than Kurt, sluggishly tromping inside the Hummel household. Burt's idea of decorating was simple and to the point, that he really didn't decorate at all. Kurt's porcelain doll form seemed so out of place in the plain but cozy home, and for a second Blaine imagined himself walking side by side with Kurt through Paris, where he shined and glowed. Kurt suddenly whipped around and captured Blaine's hand in his own, a creamy white against Blaine's golden tan. "Here, follow me; you can clean up in my bedroom."

Careful not to crush Kurt's fragile, slender hand with those long fingers in his calloused, muscular palm, Blaine allowed Kurt to lead him down a stairwell to a basement halfway converted into a bedroom. Buckets of paint decorated the floor and a bed perfectly crisp without a single wrinkle was pushed up against the wall under a high window. At least ten boxes smothered the floor, a few of them emptied out onto a vanity in the corner. "Kurt…" Blaine arched a brow. "Aren't you only here for a year? Did you really bring your… vanity?"

Kurt swung his hips from side to side, looking around his cluttered room, "Aunt Laurice told me I had to leave my favorite vanity at home. That one was my mom's and I adore a little family history but it doesn't nearly have room for all of my hair products. I packed too lightly… I miss my things in Paris." Stepping over the buckets of paint, Kurt pushed open the door to another room and gestured for Blaine to enter, "There's my bathroom. Towelettes are in the closet and everything works so use what you need. I'll be upstairs if you want me. Take as long as you like."

_I'll always want you, _the thought was so sudden that Blaine glanced over at Kurt to assure that he hadn't spoken aloud, but Kurt was already turning away and strutting toward the stairs. Helplessly Blaine flicked his eyes down to the perfect swell of his ass, his groin stirring as he imagined clenching those sweet cheeks in his hands and spreading them with his teeth, and the dimples he might see on those cheeks—Blaine tore his gaze away with a flush, waiting until Kurt disappeared up the stairs to shut the door and clear his head of Kurt's addictive presence, from his rosy lips to his huge, blue eyes, and his mind-blowing curves. Spinning on his heel, Blaine looked through all of the items of makeup Kurt had. A pile of razors was set on the counter by the sink, cornered by a froe-froe bar of soap. Oh, wouldn't it just be comical living with Kurt Hummel? Blaine pitied the man who married him. His eyes widened at a pair of panty hoes laying on the counter, and part of him wanted to stick them in his pocket, but he somehow managed to turn away from them. Deciding to play it safe by simply splashing water on his face, Blaine reached for a fuzzy, white towel to scrub his face dry as he thought about how warped this was. Tonight… he was on the bottom of the food chain, and while no one else had bothered with him the one person who should hate him had opened his arms so willingly.

On that thought Blaine raised his head as it hit him hard that here he was in Kurt Hummel's home, using Kurt Hummel's water, about to eat Kurt Hummel's food, and instead of feeling terrified a laugh bubbled up in his throat. For the first time that day he felt good because of the boy he normally should have shoved into a locker by now. Torn between tears and laughter, Blaine huddled his emotions deep down inside him, clearing his throat and pushing his misplaced curls off his forehead.

He brushed his clothes off and headed for Kurt's bedroom again, pausing for a moment to stare at the bed. Imagining Kurt burrowed under the covers, how soft and small he probably looked with only the glow of the lamp sparkling over his sweet, sleepy face, Blaine pictured him smiling up at another man as he climbed into bed beside Kurt and molded that perfect, porcelain body to his own—Blaine snapped out of his daydream and nearly slapped himself across the face, swearing that he'd breathed in far too many perfume fumes and was a helpless victim to what he fantasized.

A timer beeped upstairs and Blaine heard Kurt shuffling around so he took that as his cue to stop standing in his bedroom like some freaking stalker. Tramping up the stairs, Blaine snuck into the living room. A blue gaze flicked to him as he entered to spot Kurt on the couch, legs tucked under him, his tee shirt fallen off of one shoulder. Silently he held his eyes to Blaine's and lifted a mug to his mouth, lowering it once more with a smile curved into his lips. "You look better," Kurt commented, his cheeks rosy. "The soup's heating up. Join me for a Twilight marathon?"

"Um…" Blaine lowered stiffly beside of Kurt, "a what?"

Kurt _tsk_ed at him and set his mug aside, replacing it with a remote, "Please, _I'm _the clueless one on American pop culture. _You_ should know what that is of the two of us. The movies are so romantic! My dad shipped me the Twilight books when the Twilight franchise was all the rage then I watched the movies in French and I cried for hours because they were so sweet."

Blaine laughed as the first Twilight movie popped onto the screen, "I can honestly say that I've never had a Twilight marathon."

"Well, Blaine Anderson," Kurt switched the DVD over to French and wriggled in excitement, "prepare to be amazed."

Blaine settled back in his seat and attempted not to pay attention to the movie, not just because the movie itself sucked and Kurt and his sweet perfume were distracting him—he just wanted to lean a little closer and bury his face in Kurt's neck—but because this had been his and Quinn's very first date night movie. Although their relationship had been very choppy and bumpy, Blaine had assumed they would marry one day. After all, she had been his first time and claimed to be having his baby. He didn't exactly miss her… it was more of a regret like a sour taste in his mouth that he'd only been a brief fling to her. It was when he looked at people as pure as Kurt that he realized all that he'd given to a girl who didn't even care about him. Sighing, he murmured quietly, "Kurt… what was Paris like?" _Were there any cute boys there threatening to take away your sweet purity?_

Kurt's round eyes flicked to him, but he didn't quite understand Blaine's question, "Paris? Oh, no words can describe it! Who knows, maybe one day you'll fly out to visit me. I can give you a tour of my home. You know, Paris is nationally known as the city of love; it's also a city for inspiration. So, if you ever want to find out what to do with your life, come with me to Paris. It'll inspire you to dream. Or if you don't want to do that, have some warm milk."

Blaine's face went blank when Kurt gestured to his mug, "Excuse me? Warm milk?"

Kurt nodded, inhaling another long drink. Blaine helplessly watched his lips curve around the rim of his mug, and when he tugged it away a tiny, white droplet clung to his moist, bottom lip, and Blaine quivered to lick it up. Kurt nonchalantly lapped it with the tip of his tongue before he had chance to do as his heart constantly convinced him to do, despite his head's disagreements, and kiss Kurt. "_Oui_. Warm milk isn't as inspiring as Paris, but it always inspires deep, lady chats like this. Confidants, lady chats, and warm milk always inspire me."

Placing his thumb against his temple and rubbing his pounding confusion away, Blaine frowned at Kurt, "I have friends to confide in."

Kurt's brows cocked cynically. "Karofsky? I don't think so, Blaine. I mean someone… who knows you better than you know yourself. Who can see that you're not okay… that you're just as human and flawed as the next guy. And who forgives you anyway. Do you have someone like that?"

Blaine, captivated by the blue in Kurt's eyes, stared at how perfect and doll-like he looked with that smile on his face. As though one wrong touch would shatter him. Gulping down a breath of air, Blaine leaned across the couch and parted his lips. Seeing Kurt's color visibly drain out of his face, Blaine scooted closer and lifted his hand to cradle the soft curve of Kurt's cheek, right when the phone ringing pierced the air. Kurt jerked away from Blaine, who in turn grasped down tightly on Kurt's shoulder, "Kurt, wait—"

Kurt pushed him away, "It might be the hospital. I'm so sorry—" Shaking his head regretfully, Kurt sprinted into the kitchen and Blaine began to rise, his heart pounding. _Oh, shit,_ Blaine finally comprehended the seriousness of this phone call, that this could be the news to make or break Kurt's future. Kurt's muffled voice sounded through the kitchen wall, "…yes, I will. Thank you so much."

Everything fell silent for what seemed like hours, so, in his concern, Blaine hesitantly pushed open the kitchen door, "Kurt—?"

Suddenly someone slammed him into the wall, "Blaine!" Kurt cried in a relieved tone. "Blaine! He opened his eyes! He's going to be fine! I have to go see him!" Losing himself in his emotions, Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's neck, ducking his head into the curve between Blaine's shoulder and neck.

Startled, Blaine wound his arms around Kurt's form and he was amazed by how beautifully Kurt fit against him, like his missing puzzle piece. So soft and warm in Blaine's arms, Kurt relaxed and sighed as he snuggled deeper into Blaine's chest, his cheek against Blaine's pounding heart. Blaine smoothed Kurt's hair gently, enjoying how the locks spilled over his fingers like silk and wine, "Your warm milk must have inspired him." Blaine whispered to him half teasingly, tempted to kiss his hair like he had some kind of right, like he was Kurt's lover. "I knew he'd be fine. Want me to drive you over? I want to help you, Kurt."

Kurt lifted his head, a tiny droplet spilling from his eye, "Would you, Blaine? It isn't far from here—"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, "let me do this for you. Wait in the car, okay? I'll turn off the stove and cover the soup."

Kurt moaned, much to Blaine's agony as he stirred and a hard-on pressed into Kurt's thigh. The boy against him briefly glanced down, but other than a blink, he didn't respond. "Oh, Blaine, you are perfection. _Perfection,_ _toujours, mon plus grand rêve._ _Merci_… _Merci_, Blaine." Weak kneed and overwhelmed by the turn of events, Kurt nearly sank to his knees and sobbed had it not been for Blaine's arms around him.

* * *

Blaine chased Kurt down through the halls of a hospital. "Kurt!" he called out, but Blaine knew that even a bullet couldn't stop Kurt. Although Blaine was by far the more athletic of the two—despite the fact that Kurt had admitted to him that he craved the idea of becoming a Cheerio—Kurt's long, slender legs launched him off like a gazelle, so Blaine pinpointed the running back inside of him and raced after Kurt. Kurt skidded around a sharp corner, which temporarily slowed him down, giving Blaine a chance to catch up. Narrowing in on Kurt, Blaine swung out to snatch him as soon as Kurt dug his feet in and halted outside of a door.

Skidding to a stop with him, Blaine observed Kurt inhale deeply, his hand outstretching and freezing on the doorknob. The color washed from Kurt's face and his blue gaze narrowed on Blaine, who swallowed thickly, "What's the matter, Kurt?"

Kurt managed a rough noise, "I… I'm worried he won't recognize me. He hasn't seen me in five years, Blaine. Other than Christmas and birthday cards and presents and a few phone calls a year my dad doesn't… he doesn't even know the sound of my voice. And he doesn't know that I ever came out."

Blaine brushed his fingers over Kurt's neck, pressing his thumb down on Kurt's pulse, "Kurt… this is your dad. He'll love you, anyway." He wasn't exactly sure of that because he knew how his own dad would handle it if Blaine ever showed signs of being gay, but he didn't want anything to upset Kurt.

Kurt's mouth stiffened, "You don't know my dad. He's a man's man."

Pushing open the door, Kurt padded carefully into the room with Blaine on his heels. Blaine wedged himself into a corner as Kurt lowered into the chair beside a hospital bed. His eyes on a tenderly cooing Kurt, Blaine thought of what his own dad might do if Blaine were to become gay. Blaine's dad had the belief that life had to be spent climbing the social ladder, breeding perfect children, then dying and leaving the legacy to them. Blaine's older brother, Cooper, had easily fallen in love with their dad's ideas and became a commercial actor for advertising on how to lower credit scores. With Blaine's football scholarship, his second son had also turned out to be a benefit to the family, so he assumed his dad could rest easy now.

The bed rustled and Kurt released a soft sound, his voice small, "Hi… Dad. It's me… It's Kurt. I came home. You're coming home with me today. You're all better."

Blaine leaned to the side to spy Burt, who was the absolute opposite of Kurt in every way, except their eye color. Burt choked a little, so Kurt slid an arm under his head and lifted it, "Kurt?" Burt narrowed his eyes. "You're not in Paris. You haven't… haven't changed at all. Why are you here?"

Kurt smiled and smoothed the blankets over Burt, "The hospital called me and I flew down. I'm here for the year to care for you. I transferred schools and I'm working on my room at home and tweaking my English with new words every day and—Dad, it's not _so_ bad here. I have the glee club, and I'll probably join the cheerleading team—"

Burt's brows furrowed, "Glee club? Cheerleading? When did you get into those?"

Kurt's eyes darted away from Burt, "…Well, I've been into them all my life, but I started them sophomore year. That's when I… came out, Dad. I'm gay… and I love singing and cheerleading."

Flashing his eyes to Blaine, Burt nodded at his son, "Does that explain him, then? He's your boyfriend?"

Clearing his throat, Blaine automatically interfered, "No, I'm… I'm Blaine Anderson, sir. I went to McKinley before Kurt came and I guess we're sort of… friends." At Burt's wary expression, Blaine blurted, "I'm straight, sir. I have a girlfriend. Even though I'm _sure_ your son would make a _delightful _boyfriend."

While Kurt awkwardly smirked at Blaine, Burt slid his fingers through his son's, "I've known for quite a while, Kurt. Whenever I bought you action figures you'd always marry and divorce them, or dress them in _Barbie's latest fashions_. I've never loved you less for being… that way. I'd just… like to know if you have any boyfriends in Paris so your aunt can keep an eye on them."

Eyes sparkling, Kurt shook his head, "No, it's just me. I bet I'm the _only_ eighteen year old in the world who's never been kissed. Is that pathetic, Dad?"

"Nope," Burt replied casually, attempting to sit up on his own, "that's just the way I like it. Get me out of here, Kurt. I'm sure you'll be a better nurse than any of these _professionals_."

Kurt laughed at that, his arms looping lovingly around Burt's neck, "They kept you alive, that's all that matters. But I'll take a compliment any day. I love you so much, Dad." Twisting around, Kurt murmured to Blaine, "Do you mind finding a nurse, Blaine? Don't worry, Dad, you won't be in here for much longer."

Blaine remained there for a half second longer, then he strode out of the room with Kurt watching him go. Looking back down at his dad, he felt his cheeks flush as Burt's eyes switched back and forth between Kurt and the door, "So… how'd you meet?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, patting the covers beside of Burt, "English class. But he doesn't like me… he really is straight, Dad."

Burt tossed his hands apart, "I didn't say a word. Don't worry, kiddo, you'll meet someone who's perfect for you one day. Until then, don't settle for anything less than the best, you hear me? Because if I hadn't met your mom, I would have never had you. So choose the right person or else you'll miss out on great things later in life."

Peeling himself from the bed after pressing a kiss to Burt's forehead when the nurse entered with a wheelchair, Kurt sidled up next to Blaine. Blaine, without thinking, intertwined his fingers with Kurt's and squeezed affectionately. Another nurse strode in after the one helping Burt into the chair and she glanced at Kurt and Blaine, then down to their hands, "Um… Mr. Hummel?" Kurt released Blaine's hand and stepped forward, licking his lips in anxiety. "Ah. Mr. Hummel, make sure he rests and keep him on the diet and pill dosage this paper instructs. Signs to come back in are listed. I'd have someone up with him at all times during the first three to four days. Do you have anyone you can take shifts with?"

Kurt frowned and began to shake his head when Blaine murmured, "Yes… I'll… be staying with him. Burt will be fine. Thank you so much. Kurt, if you want to take him out to the car I'll get him checked out."

Amazed at how nice Blaine was, Kurt blanched as Blaine walked out of the room with one of the nurses at his side. His eyes flicked to Burt's, and he shrugged his shoulders, "Well… just as long as he can cook and clean I have no problem with him staying over. But, Kurt Hummel, if I find out he's your boyfriend and sleeping in your bed—"

"Dad!" Kurt clapped his hands over his ears, bursting into laughter that not only did he have his dad, he had a friend. And a very good one, at that.

* * *

Blaine walked up Kurt Hummel's driveway, suspicious as to what a sleepover with a gay boy would be like. The last sleepover he'd been to had been his junior year when he, Karofsky, and Azimio had driven to Quinn's house while she had Brittany and Santana stay over. The six of them had made out until Quinn's parents had caught them at about two in the morning. Shaking his head to wipe his memory clear of his dreaded past, he stalked up to the front door and considered why he'd even offered to help Kurt. He'd repaid him earlier by driving him to the hospital. Wasn't the prank from this morning forgotten and forgiven?

Obviously not.

Half afraid of what he would see at this sleepover, Blaine hesitated as he pushed the front door open and peeked inside. "Kurt?" he hissed, padding inside and sliding his overnight bag from his shoulder the exact moment Kurt appeared in the doorway of his basement. Dressed in royal blue, cashmere pajamas, Kurt smiled at Blaine and bounced on his toes. For some reason, Blaine thought that was adorable.

"Oh, good, you're here," Kurt gestured to his left. "My dad's asleep down the hall so come downstairs and we can talk louder. While you're here you can help me unpack. Bring your stuff down, too. We'll be sleeping in my room."

Mutely, Blaine trailed after Kurt and waited by the bottom of the stairs for further instruction, his duffel bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor. Kurt, oblivious to Blaine's uncomfortable aura, knelt down by one of the boxes and tore the top off, frowning down at what was within. "Hey, Blaine, can you help me lift this? Just put it down…" Kurt bit his lip and glanced around, then hopped to his feet and slid the chair from his vanity by the wall to the place in front of his bed. "Right there. Until I move the dresser from upstairs down here I'll be doing a lot of improvising."

Blaine wrinkled his brows and replaced Kurt's position by the box, "You brought your… TV? Why?" Bending to scoop it into his arms, he could hear Kurt tearing into another box like a child opening presents at Christmas while he carried the TV to the chair and busied himself with installing it.

"Um…" Kurt huffed, "it's not just a TV. It's programmed with a connection to my phone so when and if I call my friends in Paris I can see them on my TV. A little like Skype. It's helpful because my designer uses Skype all the time. My aunt insisted I bring it with me, but not my vanity. I simply don't understand her."

Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder at Kurt, who was plopped down by a box and pulling out a plum, dress shirt with ruffles in the front. "Kurt…" Blaine watched Kurt peel a teal shawl-sweater from the box next, "have you ever been to a sleepover before?"

Kurt smoothed down the sweater, "Last year with a few girls… and then with one of my best friends. Why, have you?"

Blaine guiltily lowered his eyes. Sure, he'd been to a sleepover before with girls, just like Kurt, but, then again, those two sleepovers probably meant such different things. He cleared his throat, "I've been to a couple. None like this. Where are your hangers, Kurt? I'll help you with your clothes."

Pointing to another box, Kurt murmured, "They're in that one, under my pajamas. So, Blaine… I met Rachel. She's the one who introduced me to glee club. She told me you guys used to date."

Choking on his own air, Blaine held down a wince, "Um… yeah. For, like, a month. It wasn't serious."

"Were you as mean to her as she said?" Kurt wriggled to the side when Blaine dropped to the floor beside him with his pajama box. "She said you used her. Is that true?"

Blaine lifted Kurt's silky pajamas out and began stringing his shirts on the hangers, "I never used her. I started dating her after I broke things off with Brittany because even though she was dumb, she was a bitch. So I started dating Rachel because I thought if I dated a girl lower on the food chain I wouldn't have to deal with her threatening me into having sex with her or else she'd dump me. But… Rachel turned out to be a control freak and I eventually got sick of being suffocated. Right after that, Quinn started coming onto me, and I knew that she was more flighty and kept her own space so I started dating her. I guess it pissed Rachel off that I moved on so fast and easily."

"And now you're with Santana," Kurt mumbled in a suggestive tone. "And she cheated on you, just like Quinn. Why did you break up with Quinn for Santana?"

Blaine groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Quinn… got pregnant with Puck's baby and she told me it was mine. I found out the truth from Rachel so I got together with Santana just because she was willing and I needed… someone. I don't want to be alone, Kurt, but I'm so sick of being that guy whose girlfriends use him for sex or pleasure or cheat on him—I'd almost be willing to give up sex just to find someone who will love me for me… not my body."

"The words of a true romantic," Kurt sighed. "I had no idea you were like this, Blaine. But I know you're going to find someone. _Because _you're Blaine Anderson and the gorgeous, star quarterback with _everything_ going for you—"

Blaine cracked a smile as Kurt teased him with how utterly perfect his life seemed to everyone who didn't know the real him and he lunged at Kurt playfully, causing Kurt to squeak and blanch as Blaine laid Kurt flat on the floor, toppling him with his own body. He held his weight up by his elbows to keep from crushing Kurt, shifting his legs around so his knees straddled Kurt's hips and the boy was completely pinned. Kurt, startled and stiff, squirmed against Blaine while he grasped Kurt's thin wrists in one hand and raised them high above his head. "_Blaine_," Kurt kicked his feet helplessly, writhing against him. Blaine tightened his grip slightly and pressed his body into Kurt's, and the boy suddenly erupted into nervous, sweet giggles. "L-Let me go, Blaine! I'll scream, I swear!"

Cupping his hand over Kurt's pretty mouth, Blaine remained still on top of a wriggling Kurt and, damn, did his body feel so good rubbing against Blaine's that way. Soft like a kitten, yet as fragile as glass and so warm. Gazing down into Kurt's gorgeous eyes, his flushed cheeks and that dimple which only proved that Kurt was enjoying this as much as Blaine, he was shocked to find himself breathless and itchy. His body ached to dive even closer to Kurt, his clothes too tight and his skin too warm. The smile on Kurt's face wavered and he gently slid his wrist out of Blaine's loosening grip, and he stroked the tips of his fingers across Blaine's cheek.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, fading in and out of Blaine's vision as everything blurred. White-hot fire consumed him, and he suddenly lost control. Ducking his head down, he captured Kurt's precious, rosy mouth in his and suckled his lower lip between his teeth. Kurt, arching into Blaine, released something between a delicious moan and a sigh, his teeth scraping Blaine's tongue as he anxiously pushed upward to close every distance. Deepening the kiss, Blaine slid his tongue across Kurt's and ribbon-tied them together, tugging Kurt's tongue so deep into his own mouth that he was completely overwhelmed by Kurt's sweet presence. Every time he inhaled he breathed in that same flowery perfume he'd sensed on the first day, and, damn, was it explosive wafting off of Kurt's twisting lips. Wrapping his arm under Kurt's body, Blaine rolled both of them across the floor once so Kurt lay on top of Blaine, one leg wedged between Blaine's. Kurt whimpered and nuzzled his lips into Blaine's, his hips helplessly circling on Blaine's. Blaine, aware of his entire body stiffening, abruptly jerked alive and his eyes snapped open onto Kurt's satiated face, his blond lashes lying against his cheeks in his drenching satisfaction and his lips rubbing back and forth across Blaine's.

Gasping, Blaine lightly pushed on Kurt's shoulders to peel his body off like a sticker. Kurt raised his head and blinked down at Blaine, unlooping his arms from around his neck, "Blaine, what's wrong?" Kurt traced his finger down the middle of Blaine's chest, and Blaine hated the way his body shuddered in response.

"I just kissed you," Blaine twitched when Kurt made a sound of agreement and slid his lips down to the underneath of Blaine's jaw, nuzzling, nipping, and licking the soft spot engrained with stubble, "You just kissed me. Kurt… Kurt, wait—Kurt, _stop_." As Kurt raised his head once more, Blaine squeezed his eyes shut to avoid that blue gaze, "I… I don't know what just happened. You just… You do things to me, Kurt. You're so…" Reopening his eyes Blaine swallowed a lump in his throat at how gorgeous the blue eyed boy looked draped over his chest like that, his lips damp and bruised, and his eyes hazy and dark. He shook his head and pushed a stray lock of sandy hair off of Kurt's forehead as he rolled Kurt off of him, laying him down beside of him, "Who are you going to tell?"

Kurt cocked his head and rubbed his fingers over his lips, obviously experiencing the same tingling in his lips that Blaine was, "I won't tell anyone. You didn't do anything bad, Blaine. It was only a kiss. You're very good at it, by the way—kissing, that is. But, Blaine… are you gay?"

Blaine's eyes widened, his body jerking, "No! No, I'm not gay. I just… I got caught up in the moment. Why aren't you going to… kill my reputation? I let my friends destroy yours. I was the _biggest_ ass to you."

Kurt crossed his legs under him, "It doesn't matter. That's cruel, Blaine. Besides, you apologized and I forgave you. You felt terrible about it. I shouldn't make you suffer for the rest of senior year for a ruined jacket, even if it was like a beloved child to me. We're friends, right, Blaine?"

The lump swelled in his throat again and Blaine dragged Kurt closer, forcing him to fall across his lap. "Yeah," Blaine muttered, tangling his fingers in Kurt's silky hair, "we're friends, Kurt. I promise you that I won't ever let anyone touch you, okay? I won't let you get hurt."

Kurt's lips curved and he nuzzled his face into Blaine's warm, cologne scented shirt, "But you can't sacrifice yourself, either. I want you to know that if you try to talk to me at school… as friends… I will rebuke you. If anyone finds us out, you'll be targeted and I can't let that happen, Blaine. You have so much going for you."

Blaine leaned back on the palms of his hands with Kurt still cradled against him, "Kurt… I don't really have anything. I want _you _to know that. I have a slut of a girlfriend and football's… not my thing. I just can't find running down some field with a ball only to have some sweaty guy tackle you amusing. It's not that great. I do it because of my dad… and people just expect it of me. It's just the way things are."

Kurt snuggled into Blaine's lap, "Don't let society's expectations rule your life. What are you interested in, Blaine?"

He shrugged, "I don't really know, Kurt. I really want to be like you. Do whatever _I_ want and damn anything anyone else says. How'd you realize you were interested in singing?"

Kurt tilted his face up at Blaine, shifting his curled legs onto Blaine's lap, "My mom." He admitted quietly. "She was a show tunes fanatic and when she died I… I had a musical marathon of some of her favorites and one day I just… started singing along. My life's never been the same. You should come to glee club. You'd love it. Can you sing?"

Blaine smirked, his fingers knotting around a single lock of Kurt's hair, "Um… no. I mean, I don't know. I've never tried singing before. Do you realize what would happen to me if I joined glee club? I'd die. The quarterback before me, Finn Hudson, joined glee club and every bit of respect for him went out the door. Kurt… guys like us simply don't do what guys like you do—"

The moment Kurt stiffened Blaine was slapped across the face with the fact that he'd done something seriously wrong, "Guys like us?" Kurt whispered, his eyes round. "Guys like what, Blaine! Guys who earn their respect by sticking their necks out there or guys who are just big _meatheads _who scare people into respecting them? Well, I'm sorry if expressing myself makes me a loser but—"

Blaine, desperately seeking a way to hush Kurt, crushed his lips over his, instantly soothing his frantic defense. Nudging once, Blaine parted their lips with a pop, "Kurt. Hush. I didn't mean that against you. Okay? I meant it that… I'll never be as brave as you, Kurt. I can't just drop this reputation I've been working at all my life—"

"Exactly!" Kurt struggled out of Blaine's arms and paced to his bed, flopping down onto it, "It's a faux reputation you work at! It's not you, Blaine. This is _just _high school. A year from now _no one _from McKinley will remember who you are and then you'll be in college and won't have a clue what to do! You'll be trapped in a life you don't want." Eyes rimming in red while a glass film brightened the blue to an electric turquoise, Kurt turned his face away from Blaine.

Sighing, Blaine pushed his hair out of his face and figured that this was what it felt like to be around an extremely emotional, stereotypical gay with more heart than muscle. He stared after Kurt and remembered being one of the many assholes who cornered Finn the day he came back to the field, just after they spotted his name on the glee sign-up sheet, and they'd pelted him with footballs, screaming some of the most homophobic names half of the guys there probably didn't even understand. Fag… queer… butt boy. Turning his head to Kurt and wincing at the thought of calling him any of those names, Blaine wandered over to his bag and ripped it open. After a second of digging around, he discovered his iPod and switched it onto speaker mode, skimming through the songs until he found his perfect match.

Playing the song, Blaine glanced up to see Kurt rustle around on the bed, peeking over his shoulder at the music. As the intro clattered up the silence in the room, Blaine approached the bed and slid his arms under Kurt's thighs and shoulders. Kurt writhed in protest as Blaine lifted him against his chest with ease. "_Blaine!_ Are you serious? Put me down! I am _so_ not in the mood for this! Blaine, _memettre! Maintenant!_"

Blaine frowned, releasing Kurt from the cradle of his arms but keeping him trapped against his chest, "I have no idea what you just said, but I imagine you were swearing at me in French. Take my hand, Kurt. Oh, don't give me that face." Linking his fingers through Kurt's, Blaine placed Kurt's other hand at the nape of his neck then wrapped his free hand around Kurt's slender waist.

Swaying them to the music, Blaine soaked in Kurt's glaring face with ease as though it was expected and even accepted. "_Je vous déteste_." Kurt spat, his body like a coiled spring in Blaine's arms.

Blaine rolled his eyes with a curt laugh, "Yes, I know. Right about now you're wishing me dead. Just keep dancing. I'll make you a deal, Kurt Hummel. As long as I don't suck, I'll sing in glee club tomorrow. This song… Cough Syrup. The lyrics mean a lot to me, about how life is too short to care about a thing. I can never convince myself to follow the advice, though. But you must swear to keep up the story that I had to have one extra credit class to pass high school. Okay?"

Kurt's bitter expression immediately changed to one of confusion, "But… how will you know if you're any good?"

Smiling at Kurt, Blaine stretched his limits by parting his lips and joining in with the singer on the second stanza of the song. The first note vibrated from his lips rather shakily, but with Kurt's blue eyes on him he gained sudden confidence and rang out the next note a little louder. He raced through the next lyric like he'd done it a million times before, tossing his head back and belting out the notes to a song that meant everything to him. In front of a boy who had changed his life in such a short time, for better or worse he wasn't sure yet.

He opened his eyes at the sound of a quiet hum joining his singing, and shocked himself when he saw that Kurt had closed his eyes and was not only shimmying his hips to the music but translating the lyrics into French. Blaine's voice exploded on the climatic verse and Kurt threw his head back with the prettiest laugh Blaine had ever heard. Teasingly twirling Kurt under his arm then dipping him down, Blaine let him fall backwards onto his bed and Blaine threw himself down on top of him.

"You know," Blaine brushed his lips against Kurt's ear, causing Kurt to twitch at the momentary deafness when Blaine kissed there with a pop, "for a boy you're not that bad a kisser." For anyone, really. Kurt had given him the most mind blowing, firework exploding kiss of his life, but Blaine wasn't about to admit that out loud. Because he wasn't gay. Squealing with giggles, Kurt dug his fingernails into Blaine's hips, wrapping his legs around him while the two of them rolled across the bed. Blaine let go of everything that night, the fact that he was straight and his reputation, and he allowed himself to kiss Kurt well into the night until the French boy finally blacked out in Blaine's arms from pleasure overdose.

Long after Kurt was asleep, Blaine dragged himself out of the bed after laying Kurt down on the pillows. Wearily he flipped off the lights, tore off his shirt, and switched off his iPod because he didn't want anything to stir Kurt. Hearing Kurt's soft breaths from the bed, Blaine threw himself onto the bed beside of Kurt, sliding one leg under the blankets and leaving the rest of himself exposed. He lifted Kurt's head to his chest and cradled him gently, stroking his hair, and he wrapped his arms around him. In the darkness Blaine began to hum Cough Syrup again, aware of Kurt's arms unconsciously wrapping around him as though he were somehow aware of Blaine's presence. Near the end of the song, Kurt cuddled into Blaine's chest and, out of the blue, sighed Blaine's name affectionately.

In that moment Blaine realized that everyone else was second best to this boy, the unashamed, beautiful, and courageous Kurt Hummel.

Just because he was Kurt Hummel.


	8. When I Get You Alone

Author's note: Salut! Okay, so obviously for this story Kurt uses a lot of French in upcoming chapters and I am, by birth, an American who uses online translators to find out these French words. So, before I go on with this story, I want to apologize to anyone who speaks French who I might accidentally insult in the future :P I don't have much to say about this chapter so I'll just go on to say that future chapters will contain more M-ish content (language, violence, smut, and an overload of fluffiness, even though I'm not really sure why the fluffiness is M-ish... so I'll just warn that it's so cute I cannot be held responsible for the melting hearts of fellow Klainers.) Okay, I'm done here, so LOVE IT AND REVIEW IT.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my wonderful feelings for Klaine. Because they're so freakin' wonderful. :P

* * *

"Anderson! Yo, Anderson! Pass the flipping ball, dude!"

Shaken from his fantasies, Blaine reluctantly flicked his eyes from the cheerleaders back to Azimio, who eagerly spread his hands and parted his legs in anticipation. Karofsky, also gazing off into space like a love sick puppy, snapped his attention to their miniature game of football before second period began. Spiking the ball to an impatient Azimio, Blaine returned his eyes to the much more interesting cheerleaders, as well as their newest addition and only boy, Kurt.

Off to the sidelines, Kurt, dressed in a cherry red skirt and tank top that absolutely thrilled Blaine, stretched with a few of the other Cheerios that Blaine didn't know. And, damn, could Kurt stretch. Hooking his hand under his ankle, Kurt gracefully kicked his foot up to his shoulder, holding in that position for ten seconds then dropping again—"Blaine! Who are you digging after? Santana's not even here today."

Blaine turned his attention to Karofsky and Azimio, the former staring in the same direction as Blaine had been. "Sorry. I… I didn't get that much sleep." Which wasn't a lie at all. That morning he'd awoken with Kurt bow-tied around him, but luckily he'd escaped to his own home before Kurt could rattle off his regrets to him. In English class, with Karofsky hanging over their shoulders, neither he nor Kurt could so much as give each other a suggestive glance without Karofsky catching on.

Karofsky narrowed his eyes on something in the distance, his stance growing oddly predatory, "Well, look who it is. Captain Gaylord and his trustee Baby Daddy. What do you want, Pudson?"

Puck, casually meandering up to them beside of Finn, bared his teeth at Karofsky, "Oh, nothing. We're just here to talk to Shirley Temple. Listen up, Anderson, we saw Kurt write your name on the glee sign-up sheet this morning. We want you to know that if you're using glee club as an excuse to get back with your exes, think again. They're spoken for. Santana posted a sex tape of herself with Brittany so I guess neither of us get her. And we want to know what's going on with you and Kurt, because if you pretend to be gay with him and break his heart a week before Sectionals, and destroy our chances of winning because he's in mourning or whatever—"

"Why don't you just back off?" Blaine snapped, stepping up to Puck's face. "You don't have a freaking _clue_ what's going on with Kurt and me."

Karofsky blanched, "What, you're gay for Hummel?"

Azimio snatched Blaine by the shoulder, "_Glee _club? Blaine, glee club is for… faggy boys. You're not a faggy boy—"

"Okay," Blaine shrugged Azimio off and made a gesture with his hands, "Azimio, stop. First of all, have you ever said one word to Kurt Hummel? Has he ever offended or insulted you? No? So stop being mean to him. Kurt's dad is sick and nearly died, so don't dick off with him. That's why Kurt came here from Paris, to be with his dad. I'm helping them out, so cool it. Don't worry, though, if all of this is leading you to believe I'm gay, I only joined glee club because I'd fail this year without an extra credit class."

Something sparked in Karofsky's eyes, "Blaine… hold on. Why would_ you _hang out with Kurt? Why would you even get to know him? You're the biggest homophobe in the school—"

Blaine tossed a glare over his shoulder, "Kurt's different. He needs…" _me,_ "help. He's lost everything. And I'm not willing to torture Kurt just because he's gay. So back off." Throwing the ball down, Blaine jogged away from the rest of them. He darted toward the locker rooms to change back into his jeans for glee club. Passing by the cheerleaders where Kurt practiced, he continued running despite hearing Kurt call his name.

He stormed over to the locker rooms on the outside of the gym and slammed through the doors. He ripped open his locker door, rummaging through it for his jeans. Without modesty, he pushed his sweats down his thighs and stepped out of them, balancing on one foot as he slid his leg into his pants.

Suddenly the door creaked open, followed by rustling silk, and Blaine glared at the sliver of light growing across the hallway then fading again. Quieting his breath, Blaine skeptically watched a tall, slender shadow creep across the floor. "Blaine?" a high, heavily accented voice whispered, "Blaine, it's just me."

_Well, you have no idea how much _you_ mean to me._ Gasping, Blaine whipped around the corner with one hand still clutching his jeans. He ushered Kurt's body against the wall and heard Kurt's sharp intake of air, his hands raising as if he would slap Blaine away, but then he laid them on Blaine's shoulders instead. "Blaine…" Kurt's round eyes flicked over Blaine's intense expression.

Pulsing with hunger for that soft, sweet kiss again, Blaine ducked his head into Kurt's neck. Kurt sighed at Blaine's kiss and tilted his head back. He whimpered quietly as Blaine licked a vein on the side of his neck, biting down and suckling the skin. "Blaine," Kurt stroked his fingers through Blaine's wild curls. "Blaine, you'll leave a mark. Let me go."

The thought of marking Kurt brought out an animalistic side of Blaine he didn't know existed. He slid his arms around Kurt and lifted one of Kurt's legs to wrap around his waist, cradling Kurt in the air by digging his fingers into the backs of his soft thighs. Kurt hooked his arms around Blaine's neck, his hips writhing against Blaine's. The more Kurt wriggled the more Blaine's boxers rode up his own muscular thighs. Blaine sucked Kurt's skin with his teeth, lips, and tongue, painting fiery kisses onto every inch of Kurt's exposed neck that he could reach with his mouth. He felt Kurt stiffen against him, and a low moan which sounded like a thick, French accented version of Blaine's name rolled off Kurt's tongue. With one lasting, moist kiss to Kurt's rosy mouth, Blaine lifted his head, panting and drenched in the faint aroma of salt and a fine layer of perspiration.

"Damn," he growled more gutturally than he thought humanly possible, eyeing the purplish, swelling bruise on Kurt's neck. Kurt whimpered in Blaine's arms, his hips still rolling. "I can't get enough of you. You look like an angel, Kurt. Does it hurt?" Rubbing his fingers across the hickey, he pressed his thumb into a spot of wetness on the bruise as though to engrave it in Kurt's skin. He sighed in relief when Kurt shook his head, "Good. Sweet baby… you're so beautiful, Kurt." He kept his hand behind Kurt's back and leaned him into the wall to give him a minute to catch his breath, his eyes squeezing shut. Blaine soothed him by rubbing circles into his warm shirt and holding him up against his chest. Lips bruised and red from the kisses and his cheeks flushed, it was pretty obvious what Kurt Hummel had been doing. And Blaine imagined that he looked precisely the same.

Abruptly, cackling laughter burst into the room and Blaine nearly swore, hearing Karofsky shout out Azimio's name. Startled, Kurt opened two wide eyes and they shot to Blaine, who chucked both of them into one of the empty showers. Kurt flailed and started to release a high sound of shock, but Blaine covered his lips and shook his head wildly. Kurt nodded and hushed his breath, both of them listening to lockers swing open. "Dude," Karofsky muttered, "What's been going on with Blaine? He's been acting—"

"He's acting like that lady boy, Hummel." Azimio interjected, "You think Blaine's gone faggy? Hummel's, like, converting him. First Hummel, now glee club? Those aren't good signs, Karofsky."

Blaine felt Kurt blow out warm air on his hand and he let him slide down to his feet, his arms still a lasso around Blaine's neck. Karofsky groaned, "We _can't_ have the entire team going faggy. Hudson wasn't so much of a loss but Puck was surprising… If Anderson goes down, we _know_ that there's something wrong with this school."

"What do you want to do about it?" Azimio muttered, slamming his locker shut.

"Well, first we've got to get rid of Hummel." Karofsky replied slyly. "And then I—we—have to get Blaine back." The voices faded to silence and the door clamped shut again.

Remaining stiff, Blaine reached down to pull his pants up to his hips. He buckled them closed and stayed silent, while Kurt in turn ripped away from him and covered his mouth with his hand. "No!" Kurt slammed himself against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the floor, "Blaine, what do they mean? What are they going to do to me? Blaine, what if they hurt me—?"

Blaine, noting the turmoil in Kurt's eyes and his fear that next time it'd be worse than a Slushie in the face, knelt down in front of Kurt and slid him into his arms, letting the frail boy huddle into his chest. He stroked and kissed Kurt's pretty hair, "No," he cuddled him tightly, "hush. No one's gonna hurt you. Okay? No one's gonna touch you. I'll protect you, Kurt, promise me you know that." When Kurt only twitched, Blaine shook him lightly, "Kurt. Kurt, promise me. You're safe, okay? You're safe."

Kurt eventually nodded his head, wrapping his trembling arms around Blaine. Blaine tugged Kurt into his lap, humming a soft lullaby version of Cough Syrup to Kurt. Blaine kissed the lobe of Kurt's small ear, "Why are you so scared, Kurt?" Blaine whispered to him, "That really shook you up."

Kurt closed his eyes, "M-My best friend was killed by a homophobe. He was gay, too, and we were never romantic but I liked having someone around who was like me. But one night a homophobe caught him kissing my other friend and punched him so hard that his neck snapped. I guess it scared me that some homophobes hated us so much they were willing to kill us."

Blaine squeezed Kurt tighter, "No… no, honey. Karofsky and Azimio care more about their personal records than about doing any physical damage. They fight each other like dogs but they would never hurt you badly, okay? And if you ever feel threatened by them tell me and I'll shut them up pretty damn fast. Just… try not to worry, okay? Come on, let's go to glee club. That'll take your mind off things." Rising to his feet, Blaine lifted Kurt up and intertwined their fingers in a way that felt so natural. He walked with Kurt hand in hand toward the school, stunned at himself for being so comfortable with their silence as they walked.

It almost felt too comfortable to even be real. And too beautiful of a moment to last forever, which was, to his disappointment, the truth. After this year Kurt was leaving and he'd never have a friend like him again. The thought of losing Kurt to Paris and not only that but big named, gorgeous, French men who spoke his language and had the same dreams, ached his heart. But he would never tell Kurt that.

* * *

Glee club was in full swing by the time he and Blaine arrived, music and laughter echoing a mile down the hall as Kurt rushed up to the beloved room with Blaine on his heels. Throwing the door open, Kurt noticed the laughter on everyone's faces hesitate, return only for a second, then drip away like rain. "_Salut!_" Kurt piped up, only to receive a half smile from Rachel for about two seconds.

"Kurt," said Schuester from the piano, getting to his feet, "welcome back. We were worried you weren't returning. Luckily, you're here. Rachel told me you know a little of Lady Gaga, so the girls proposed we do her number Bad Romance. The guys weren't so appreciative and are coming up with another song. Either way, why don't you join the girls over there?"

Kurt squeaked with joy and darted toward Rachel and Mercedes, who instantly sucked him into their group. Blaine stayed behind, aware of every eye on him. Schuester frowned, "Blaine Anderson, we weren't expecting you. But a recruit is a recruit—by the way, thank you, Kurt, for reeling him in."

Kurt popped his head out of the group of girls and grinned from ear to ear, "_De rien_." He dipped back into the group, disappearing from sight as he and the girls chattered about Lady Gaga and their excitement for doing the song.

Schuester took Blaine by the shoulder, "So, Blaine, can you sing? Do you have a song you can do?"

"Uh… yeah," Blaine grumbled, "but I kind of need to do it with Kurt."

Puck, sitting in the back beside Finn, perked up at that and snorted, "Well, didn't you take care of that last night? I mean, where else did he get that hickey from?"

Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers. _Shit, the hickey._ In his rush to soothe Kurt he'd completely forgotten about the hickey. Sneering at Puck, he growled, "The last person I gave a hickey to was Quinn, before you went and knocked her up, Baby Daddy."

"Alright," Schue snapped, "Blaine, I won't put up with this if you're only in here to start fights. Puck, don't provoke anything. Kurt, _have_ you agreed to sing this with him?"

Kurt curiously glanced at Blaine, who nodded his head. He hopped to his feet, "I did. We'll be singing Cough Syrup." Sliding up next to Blaine, he whispered, "Don't be nervous, okay? You're wonderful."

Blaine nudged Kurt's shoulder with his own, wanting to wrap his arm around him, but he couldn't. He inhaled sharply at the sound of the track playing, his eyes watchful of the smirks and whispers and pointing fingers. Kurt's sang the intro, his French words ringing in the air harmoniously. Suddenly Blaine froze up, his throat tightening, and he choked on words that wouldn't come out. Kurt, finishing up with the intro, glimpsed expectantly at Blaine. Blaine swallowed a few times, the music to his part trilling along without the vocals to go with it, and Blaine heard Puck snicker. "I think he's gonna puke. Hey, if it's white we'll know what he's been doing with Kurt."

_If Anderson goes faggy…_

_My best friend was killed because of a homophobe…_

_Stop being such a lady boy, princess…_

_Butt boy…_

_You'll be trapped in a life you don't want…_

Shaking his head, he was aware of something hissing and popping before he saw Kurt's face, then everything went black.

* * *

Gagging on a cold liquid swishing in his mouth, Blaine turned his head to the side and spat. "Shh…" someone pushed his heavy curls off his forehead, "drink. It's water. Well, you didn't vomit, luckily, or else you would have hit my Chanel flats. You did faint, though. How do you feel?"

Blaine struggled to sit up but a pair of hands pushed him back down, "Kurt…" he groaned, "Kurt. I want Kurt. Where is he?"

"I'm right here," Kurt whispered, squeezing his hand. "You're in the nurse's office. Mr. Schuester dragged you here because I couldn't lift you."

Blaine smirked, "Well, no wonder. I have twenty pounds on you. Damn… my head is throbbing. What happened?"

An icepack was instantly pressed to his forehead, "You fainted. When you fell you hit your head. You're not concussed but you do have a pretty, little bruise." Feeling Kurt press his lips to the sore place on his forehead, Blaine cracked one eye open.

"That's embarrassing. Am I still required to come to glee club?"

Kurt frowned, "If you're this uncomfortable with it, no. I don't want you getting hurt, Blaine."

"It's not…" Blaine boosted himself up despite the dizziness in his head, and Kurt made a sound of sympathy. "It's not just that. I guess…I got up there and started thinking about… the way people are acting around me. I've never been suspected for being gay before, and now everyone is saying it—"

"Wait," Kurt furrowed his brows, "I thought… you were gay. The first time you kissed me I tried so hard to accept that you were curious, but you did it again and you seemed to like it."

"I'm not gay, even though I did like it… a lot." Blaine muttered a breath too quickly. "Kurt, a kiss doesn't mean anything—"

Kurt jolted backwards as though he'd been slapped, his face blanching, "Is that what you told Rachel?" Kurt murmured soto voce. "That kissing her meant nothing? I thought you liked me, Blaine! I thought all of this meant something, but you're exactly the same man you were when you told Karofsky and Azimio to be as homophobic as possible to me! Is this amusing to you, Blaine? I should have believed Rachel when she—"

When Kurt fumbled off Blaine's bed, Blaine clamped down firmly on his wrist, "Kurt! You know I didn't mean it like that! Fine, maybe I'm being bi-curious but I'm not gay—"

The mention of being bi-curious only seemed to worsen the situation because Kurt's eyes filled with tears and he pulled his wrist from Blaine's grip. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

Blaine frowned, sliding his fingers through Kurt's as his tiny fist clenched and unclenched, "Kurt, I don't know what I am yet. It doesn't mean that I think less of you, that you don't mean… a lot… to me. I just need time, honey, to figure things out—"

Kurt shook his head and released a soft sob, "Please, Blaine. Please, don't. I… need time to think. Please, leave me alone tonight. Don't call me or come to my house."

"Kurt, don't be like this." Blaine whined, but Kurt tore away from him and raced out the door, tears spurting from his eyes. "Damn…" He gazed at the door and pressed his fingers into the bruise, wincing at the sharp pain in his head. _What do I have to do to get with you?_ He thought to himself, then wondered where a thought like that had come from.


	9. Bills, Bills, Bills

Author's note: So, this chapter makes me horribly sad and depressed so I just spent an hour replaying Kurt's performance of I Have Nothing and typing this while mentally crying. That. Is. Pathetic. Anyway, I've decided to update two chapters tonight just because I can, so enjoy this... if you can. Unless you're like me and mentally cry while Blaine is being sad. Okay, I'm done now. Enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't even own the computer I wrote this on. Again, that is pathetic.

* * *

Kurt, squished between Rachel and Mercedes as they provided last minute adjustments to their costumes, plucked fuzz off of his purple trench coat, tight at the chest and bloated out at his hips. Underneath the skirt of it he wore purple, baggy, wrap around sweats that flowed out at the ankles. His ballet flats provided his outfit a plum color to match the rest of his Lady Gaga array. With black streaks painted through his messy, spiked hair, white lipstick covering his lips, and purple eyeliner drawn in patterns and loops around and between his eyes, he felt closer to Gaga than he ever had before.

Rachel and Mercedes, dressed to their best Lady Gaga imitations as well, primped each other's hair and makeup, giggling at the strangeness of their costumes. Suddenly, Kurt heard Puck snicker and he raised his head to find Blaine standing in the doorway, his golden eyes zeroed in on him. Abruptly Puck burst out, "Hey, Anderson, try not to faint again!"

Blaine grimaced and stepped further into the room, lowering as subtly as possible onto the chair in front of Kurt. Despite Blaine's will to remain invisible, a few of the girls peeked and frowned at him. Twisting around in his chair, Blaine whipped out a half glaring face, "Kurt, please, we've got to talk about this. You _know _what I meant."

Kurt stiffened, pointing his nose at the ceiling, "Honestly, Blaine, I don't. And this isn't a good time. I'm about to perform."

"Well, then, when _is?_" Blaine hissed, thinking back to the previous night when Kurt had ignored Blaine's hundreds of calls. "You can't just block me out, Kurt."

"But you're allowed to treat _me_ horribly?" Kurt's voice broke, surprising Blaine. He didn't want to hurt him so he instantly changed his ferocious expression, swallowing thickly and trying to capture as much of Kurt's beauty in that costume as possible before he turned away.

Before another word was spoken Schue strode in with a chipmunk faced kid who looked like he might be a junior, a quirky grin lingering on his face that caused his horse teeth to push out of his mouth. "'Morning, all," Schue greeted the room casually. "Before we start our Bad Romance performance—which, by the way, great costumes, guys—I'd like to introduce Sebastian. He'll be joining New Directions. I expect you all to welcome him and help him out. Sebastian, why don't you take a seat by Blaine? Monsters, are you all ready?"

The girls squealed when the music blared from the speakers and they climbed out of their chairs, along with the only boy singing with them, Kurt. Crossing his arms over his chest, Blaine frowned with an odd fascination as Kurt clawed his fingers through the air, giving the sexiest smirks as he began singing in a tenor tone that Blaine had never heard before. Aware of another presence beside him, Blaine snapped a swift glimpse at Sebastian, his ruddy hair and horse grin making Blaine want to gag. His muddy brown eyes were glued to the stage, so Blaine curiously followed his gaze to where Kurt was swiveling his hips to the music.

Kurt jerked his head up to look out on the audience, his pretty blue eyes sparkling under an intricate tattoo of eyeliner. At first he settled on Blaine, but then his eyes flickered to Sebastian who hollered out a noisy cheer, pumping his fist. Kurt gave him a half flirtatious smile and spun around, strutting toward Rachel and dancing with her. He shimmied his shoulders into hers, swinging back around to face the audience as he raised his hands above his head, circling his hips. Suddenly switching to French, Kurt slid his body to the ground, his hands seductively skimming over his stomach, hips, and thighs, and Blaine could have sworn he heard Sebastian inhale sharply. Blaine glared at him and wanted to tell him that Kurt had been claimed, or maybe he'd just punch him.

As the song finished, Kurt pranced back to his seat, beaming, but before he could sit Sebastian popped up like a jack in the box and touched Kurt's arm. "Hey," Sebastian mumbled, flushing, and Kurt cocked his head curiously, "You're Kurt Hummel, the French boy."

"_Oui,_" Kurt giggled, placing his hands on his hips, "Do you sing, Sebastian?"

"Uh, yeah," Sebastian nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Listen, are you doing anything for lunch? I'd really love to take you out and get some tips on singing."

Kurt smeared that dimple which Blaine had claimed as his own on his cheek, and Blaine had to bite down on his tongue to keep from telling Sebastian so, "_Oui,_ no one's ever asked me that before! I'd love to! It's all about finding your own voice and growing to the sounds of the music that suits you. Eventually you can start to expand."

"Mm," Sebastian nodded, though his expression on his face proved that he was after much more than singing lessons. Naïve to that, Kurt looped his arm through Sebastian's and led him out of the room, chattering on about music that Sebastian didn't care about.

Sighing, Blaine rose to his feet the exact moment Schue appeared from his office, "Blaine? Can we speak for a moment?" _Oh, perfect, what'd I do now?_ He mentally groaned and flipped his jacket hood up, slumping over to where Schue was poking his head out of his office. "Take a seat. You're not in trouble."

Blaine threw himself down, grinding his teeth at the thought of his Kurt roaming the halls with Sebastian while Blaine was helpless to even follow them and keep Kurt safe from Sebastian's flirty advances. Schue dropped into the chair opposite of Blaine's, "Blaine, Em—Ms. Pillsbury and I have… have been noticing you struggling. Yes, it's only the third day of school and maybe you miss summer or you're worried about what'll happen after high school—like most kids going into their senior year—but, Blaine, you're not acting like yourself. You're very angry and pushing people away. And there have been rumors, Blaine. That you're… gay. Now, I love having recruits for glee club, but… I'm not sure about your motivation. Is it the singing or is it… Kurt?"

Crossing his arms and slouching in his chair, Blaine grumbled, "Kurt's going through a hard time. Does me helping him rub his gayness off on me or something? Why is this school so freaking homophobic?"

Schue's mouth tightened, "Well, Blaine, if I remember correctly, you used to be one of those people. Up until the very moment Kurt came. Ms. Pillsbury and I just want you to know that if you need somebody to talk to, we'll be here. Either of us. You might want to read this pamphlet." Schue slid a pamphlet to Blaine, the front of it blatantly exposing two cartoon boys kissing, the title of it stating _Is this just my growing hormones or was that boy cute?_

Blaine resisted throwing up. "Schue, I really appreciate the concern but I'm totally not gay. Kurt's a friend. I'm going to go hit up some lunch, so… thanks for the offer but… I'm just helping Kurt out. Nothing more than that."

Slipping out of Schue's office, Blaine strolled into the hall, a chaotic kingdom that belonged to him. The student body respected and feared him, handed him their remotes to control them by their own will. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master. It was simply how things went at McKinley. Strolling through the hall, Blaine was offset by the amount of pointing fingers, low snickers, and mocking whispers that followed him down the halls. He furrowed his brows as one of the nerds—_nerds_—dared to make a kissy face at him, and while he glared him down half threateningly he slammed right into Jacob Ben Israel. Knocked a step back, he shoved Jacob aside, "Get out of my way, Israel. Damn—"

Undeterred, Jacob's next words froze Blaine on the spot, "Blaine! We're dying to know. Is it true that you gave Kurt Hummel the hickey on his neck?"

Blaine's jaw dropped and he whipped around, "Who told you that?"

"Puckerman," Jacob immediately answered. "It's true, Blaine. You have been spending a lot of time around Hummel. Your reply?"

Usually this would have been one of those moments where the romantic hero rattled off this dramatic speech, but with every eye pinned on him waiting for him to fess up what they wanted to hear, Blaine could only slam Jacob aside and prowl down the hall. "Screw you," he called over his shoulder, leaving his books behind as he stormed down the hall. Outside he had the horrible experience of having to slash through the bullet drops of rain to reach his car, and when he slid inside he wasn't even sure where to go. He didn't want to go home and Kurt wasn't an option and he wasn't returning to school, so he called the one person he had left.

After a few rings, a Latino voice hollered, "Blaine? What do you want?"

He shut his eyes, "I… I don't have anywhere I can go right now. Can I stay with you, San?"

Another few seconds passed before she replied, "Yeah, come on over. Brittany and I are filming another sex tape, though. If you want to be in on it you'll have to go down on both of us."

"Whatever," Blaine whispered hoarsely, remembering how easily Kurt had welcomed him in without asking for anything in return.

Speed dialing another number, he was relieved at first when he heard a click, but nearly threw the phone down when Horse Face murmured, "Hello?"

Blaine grinded his teeth, throwing the car in reverse, "Where's Kurt?"

"He… went to the restroom." Sebastian replied innocently, "Oh, wait, no! Here he comes. Kurt, your phone rang." A moment's pause, then, "I dunno. Some boy." _Yeah, some boy who wants to knock your horse teeth out and pierce your eyes with them._

The sound of Kurt's sweet, melodic, French accent made Blaine's skin warm, "Hello?"

"Kurt," he breathed, "Kurt, we really have to talk. Listen to me, I… I really need to see you, Kurt. Please talk to me."

Kurt hesitated, "I… I'm busy, Blaine. Besides, you did talk to me and you made it very clear what you wanted. So, I'm moving on, Blaine—"

"What if I asked to be your friend?"

"I would say… I won't put myself through that. Maybe one day, Blaine, but for now I need distance." The line clicked off without leaving Blaine any more room for pleading.

"But I miss you," Blaine whispered, but like all the other words he wanted to tell Kurt, Kurt would never hear any of them.

* * *

Hidden away inside of his mind, Blaine arched his body whichever way Santana pleased, wondering how broken a person had to become before his own sorrow became his past, present, and future. When Blaine lost the one person who meant everything to him and he ended up under the sheets of one of the many people he wanted to run away from, to escape? Yes, probably then. Closing his eyes, Blaine breathed through his nose and suddenly Kurt's pretty face popped into his head, an image of Kurt laughing, his nose wrinkled, eyes rolled back and his dimple sweetly popped on his cheek. Blaine remembered how soft Kurt was, and that taste that only belonged to Kurt's lips, and that beautiful way Kurt had arched and cried out underneath Blaine as they rolled across the pillows, the sheets tangling between their legs—

Santana pushed on his chest, "What the fuck, Blaine? You _just_ said that boy's name, Kurt Whatshisface. Are you really daydreaming about fucking a boy?"

Blaine blinked a few times, drawing himself back into reality. Damn, what he would have paid to have Kurt in his arms right at that moment. Had Blaine been a good guy he would have let Sebastian keep Kurt to himself since they were so brave together, willing to admit to anyone that they were gay and proud of it. But Blaine wasn't a good person, and he wanted what was rightfully his back.

"It's okay," Santana nuzzled into his neck, "we all have dirty secrets."

But Kurt wasn't a dirty secret, Blaine thought helplessly as Santana slid down his body, only to realize that Blaine wasn't hard for her seductress ways at all. Kurt was the purest thing in Blaine's life, and in that moment Blaine permanently decided that Kurt Hummel was his.

No one else's.


	10. It's Not Right But It's Okay

Author's note: Okay, here's my second draft of this chapter :) The beginning didn't really change but I feel like the ending is better.

* * *

Gazing from afar at Blaine Anderson, who was dressed in a very tight and very defined wife beater that boldly highlighted a delicious four pack and bronzed, toned arms, Kurt sighed and thought of how unfair it seemed that after a week Blaine seemed pretty well moved on from everything they once had. Blaine's relationship with Santana had improved to the point that Santana practically mauled his lips every time she saw him, and Kurt had seen them doing some nasty things with their tongues in Blaine's car before and after school, just as Rachel had warned. Blaine, slipping on a jacket, jerked his head up as Azimio raced past him and cracked him on the thigh with a soaked towel. "Dude!" Azimio shouted, "We've got Jacob in a port-a-potty! Come on, we're gonna tip it!"

Blaine, bursting into laughter that sounded fake, broke into a sprint after Azimio. _Well, he's back on top and I'm still down here, among the glee club losers,_ Kurt thought, shutting his locker and jumping at the sight of the grinning face on the other side. "_Oi!_ Sebastian, you scared me! How long have you been standing there?"

Sebastian laughed, "Long enough to admire you in that man skirt." Sebastian gave him a bold once-over, soaking in Kurt's white, tailed coat, ankle length, white, drape skirt and white, buckle shoes. "You got anything under there?"

Naïve to Sebastian's suggestive tone, Kurt lifted the hem of his skirt partially to expose his white leggings, "These. Do you… need something, Sebastian?"

Even for Kurt Sebastian's constant optimism was starting to wear him down. At first it'd been startling but Kurt had appreciated Sebastian's kindness. Of course, compared to his recently lost love, Blaine, Sebastian didn't really excite Kurt the way Blaine did. After sending Blaine suggestive movements and smiles during Bad Romance and receiving nothing but unimpressed glaring, Kurt had picked up on the fact that while Blaine hadn't taken to the flirting, Sebastian had completely assumed it was all for himself. Since then, Sebastian had become clingier than Kurt's own shadow. He even started to copy Kurt, going so far as to buy the same shirt as him and wear it on the same day. And copy cats for fashion were where Kurt drew the line.

"Just wanted to know if you wanted to go out tonight," Sebastian muttered, still eyeing Kurt's skirt. "Seven o'clock, Breadstix?"

Kurt frowned and slid a book into his bag, "Um… Actually, I can't tonight. I'm staying home to care for my dad. I haven't seen him for five years. I hope you forgive me."

"Easily," Sebastian smiled and reached out to take a piece of Kurt's skirt between his fingers, "Why don't I come over tonight? You've never let me in your home before. I can help you with your dad."

Licking his lips, Kurt tugged his skirt free. What it had been like to bring Blaine home and feel the pleasure and protection of Blaine's arms encircling him, his lips decorating his skin in wet, frantic kisses, his mouth forming words of love and assurance that he would protect Kurt no matter what. Although he didn't appreciate the idea of Sebastian intruding into his personal space he had shared with Blaine or even introducing Sebastian to his dad, something had to be done to remove his heartache, so he hesitantly nodded his head, "Sure. I'll give you my address at lunch. I have to get to calculus."

"Okay," Sebastian flirtatiously patted Kurt's thigh, "bye, beautiful." Sebastian winked over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner of the hall.

Releasing a shaky breath, Kurt lifted his trembling fingers to his lips as a tear flirted with the rim of his eye, momentarily blinding him. "Blaine," he whispered hoarsely, "Blaine…"

* * *

Blaine chucked the football to Azimio, pacing to the sidelines to douse himself with a drink of water. He lowered onto the bench and opened his phone just out of the dead hope in his heart. A picture of Kurt recently awoken and still sleepy, a half smile curved on his lips, greeted Blaine from his wallpaper. Frowning as he opened the trillion texts to Kurt—please talk to me; I'm sorry I hurt you; we need to talk, Kurt—he noticed that none had a single reply. Giving up seemed easiest, but night after night of sitting in his window and staring at Kurt's house, obsessively watching Kurt's bedroom light flick on and off, flashing his eyes to him every chance he got or brushing against him in English and feeling that addictive shock of electricity shoot through his skin motivated Blaine to keep after Kurt. He was just too beautiful to give up on so easily.

And, _damn_, when Kurt had walked in with that skirt on. Blaine so wanted to see Kurt twirl with it on, to watch it fly up around his hips then wrap back around his pretty, soft legs. But Sebastian had that privilege. Not Blaine. Flicking his eyes up to the practicing cheerleaders, Blaine zeroed in on Kurt Hummel dressed in that same cheer outfit that emitted so many lascivious thoughts from Blaine that he—

"Blaine!" Karofsky jogged up behind Blaine, and Blaine swiftly snapped his phone shut. "Dude… what are you doing? You've been digging after Hummel all day since he dragged in that lady skirt. What's with you and him?"

"Nothing's _with _us, Karofsky." Blaine growled, his body heating up with fury. "Do you know how many times I've been asked that? The answer's always going to be the same. Kurt and I have _nothing_."

Karofsky suspiciously twitched his eyes to Kurt, "Good. 'Cause it was kind of sickening, thinking of you screwing his lady boy hips into a bed. A boy should never walk around swinging his ass like a princess—"

Something inside of Blaine snapped. A thousand times Blaine had heard someone bad mouthing he and Kurt, which he batted down without much affair, but hearing someone personally mock Kurt caused something to pop and hiss inside of him. Cracking down his whip, Blaine whipped around in a blur of motions and slammed Karofsky against the bench, "What the _fuck_, Karofsky?" Blaine screamed, alerting everyone within a ten mile radius. "Tell me what he's done to you! Tell me what he's ever said to you! Do you realize how _fucking_ insecure you look? Making fun of someone as brave and strong as him when he's done _nothing_ to you!"

Karofsky's eyes widened, "What the fuck, Blaine? Let me go! What is your problem?"

"This whole fucking school is my problem!" Blaine shoved Karofsky again, who backed the charge with his own shove. Blaine slammed himself into Karofsky. Karofsky flailed his hands, searching for a way out of the fight when something cracked into Blaine's eye, causing him to shout.

"Blaine!" Someone else cried out as Blaine held the palm of his hand to his pulsating eye. "Karofsky, _stop! _You hurt him!"

"Get out of this, Hummel!" At the mention of Kurt's name, Blaine squinted through his remaining eye just in time to watch Kurt punch at Karofsky's chest as hard as he could, despite Karofsky being a brick wall three times bigger than him. In his annoyance at Kurt's intrusion, Karofsky swept his arm out and knocked a frantic Kurt aside. Kurt cried out when he tumbled to the ground, his eyes wide as Karofsky cinched his fingers around the collar of Blaine's wife beater. "Stop acting so _gay_, Blaine. It's disgusting!"

"Fuck you," Blaine spat, ripping out of Karofsky's grip and hurling himself down beside of Kurt, who kept himself by brushing grass off. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt nodded his head with a wince, leaning into Blaine when Blaine curled an arm around him and huddled him into his chest, "Yes, I'm fine. I… Oh, Blaine, your eye! It's bruised! Let me see it… Blaine, let me—"

Blaine shoved away from Kurt, for fear of staying around him any longer in case he blurted something he'd regret later, "I'm fine. I'm fine, Kurt—"

"Kurt!" Someone else interrupted, and Sebastian pranced over to them. "Kurt, what happened? Did _you _hurt him? Gah, what an animal—"

"Sebastian," Kurt said shortly, allowing Sebastian to pull him to his feet. "Blaine didn't hurt me, okay? Let me take him to the nurse's office."

When Kurt held his hand out Blaine rejected it, his eyes on Sebastian, "No, you're right," he whispered. "I did hurt him. Why don't you go take care of him?"

"Gladly," Sebastian was oblivious to the true meaning behind Blaine's words, yet as he tugged a protesting Kurt away there was no undoing anything. Blaine had said what he said, and in the process hurt Kurt. If only Blaine could bring himself to accept that he'd broken a heart as beautiful as Kurt's, and now it was time for him to realize that he was no good for Kurt, but he couldn't.

* * *

Banned from football practice, Blaine drove home at a decently normal time that night. As long as his family wouldn't be home until morning, he was safe to go home. Despite his black eye, little damage was done to him, but it was his paranoia over Kurt that bugged him. Kurt's fall normally would have been innocent, but with Kurt being as fragile as he was and trying to hide the limp that remained all day, Blaine sighed that he wouldn't be able to sleep that night without assuring that Kurt was okay. He dragged out his phone before his dread of being rejected again could overwhelm him, and, calling Kurt's number, he waited a few moments before a gruff voice replied, "Hello?"

Blaine blinked, rechecking his phone to make sure he hadn't called the wrong number, "Um… hi… is Kurt there?"

"Uh…" the voice contemplated that, "he just got home with a boy. Want me to give him a shout? He's downstairs."

_Shit, Sebastian is in Kurt's bedroom. I don't want him there so get him out._ Blaine made a soft sound of recognition, "Wait… Mr. Hummel? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. It's… It's Blaine. From the hospital. Do you mind if I come over? Kurt forgot a book at school. He needs it for his English homework."

Burt replied lazily, "I don't care. Blaine… I don't mean to pry, but did something happen between you and Kurt? He's been acting very… off. Depressed. He sings those sorrowful, female-power, breakup songs nearly every morning while he gets ready. I'm not accusing you, though. I just want to make sure he's alright at school and everything."

"Kurt's great at school," Blaine half lied. "He's a good friend, Burt. One of the greatest people I've ever met. I don't mean to keep you but… how's your heart?" Oh, wasn't he just dapper. More like manipulative to keep Burt on the phone as long as possible.

"My heart's fine. It's that damned diet Kurt's enforcing that's bugging me." Blaine forced a laugh at that, all the while straining to hear any sounds of Kurt's laughter or what he might be saying, but he must have had his bedroom door shut because Blaine couldn't hear a thing. _Sebastian, you better keep your horse hands off my Kurt._

Stepping down on the gas firmly, Blaine put the phone against his other ear, "Kurt really loves being around you, Burt. Coming here from Paris to be with you… He's… He's…" _Perfect?_ "Really brave, huh?"

Burt huffed out a laugh, "I guess so. Paris is… his one love. Nothing will ever stop him from going back, but I don't really want him to go. Paris was good for him, though. He shined there. It brought out a life in him that was never around in Ohio. But… you definitely think he's doing alright? His English isn't very strong. He hasn't been around it since he was little. I just want to make sure he's doing fine."

"Yeah," Blaine whispered, turning onto his street, "he's fine, Burt. Well, I'm almost there so I'll see you in a minute." Clicking the call off, Blaine drove past his house towards Kurt's, where the Navigator was parked along with another car on its bumper. Blaine pulled over onto the curb and stepped out of his car, his heart racing. Damn, how much he wanted to see Kurt. Just the two of them. But first he had to get rid of Sebastian.

Slamming his car door, he stormed toward Kurt's door and pushed inside, spotting Burt lying on the couch with a blanket covering him and his eyes glued to the TV. He flicked his eyes to Blaine, "Hey, kid. Go on downstairs. He's down there."

Blaine nodded and prowled down the stairs. He headed toward Kurt's half closed door with Rihanna's Only Girl blaring out at him. He threw the door open the rest of the way and a startled Sebastian, slouching in Kurt's vanity chair, snapped his head up. Kurt, who lounged on his bed, also flicked his eyes up. Kurt had changed into a plain, white tee shirt and black, silk shorts so short they barely covered three inches below his hip and, lying down, they rode up even further. Oh, shit, if Sebastian hadn't been present, Blaine so would have had Kurt pinned already. Legs smooth and porcelain white, Kurt had his soft thighs crossed and one small, bare foot kicking in the air. "Blaine?" Kurt cocked his head, his brows furrowing. "What are you… doing here?"

Blaine's eyes went white, "Why is he here? I was barely fine with you and him going out to lunch and practicing your singing or whatever but _keep him out of your room._"

Sebastian glanced from Blaine to Kurt, "What, you have a jock babysit you now?"

"No," Kurt started to lift up. "Blaine? Why do you look like that?"

"Why are you wearing that outfit in front of him?" He used his body to block Sebastian's view of Kurt. Throwing a glare to Sebastian, he hissed, "Get out. Now."

"Kurt?" Sebastian squeaked, but when Blaine stepped toward him Sebastian hopped off the chair, scampering past Blaine.

Kurt leaned over and turned the music off, "Are you _trying _to make me unhappy? First I can't have you, now I can't have anyone?"

Eyeing Kurt's pretty mouth, Blaine kicked the door shut behind him and watched Kurt's eyes widen slightly, but then he blinked, determined to keep his emotions from Blaine. "You never wanted Sebastian." Blaine sneered, "Let me remind you that we didn't last ten minutes in your bedroom before you took me to bed. Your dad just acknowledged Sebastian as _some boy_. He hasn't met him before. You've never brought Sebastian here. Has he touched you, Kurt?"

Kurt's mouth quivered, his thighs rubbing together, which was very obvious to Blaine. "What would it matter?" Kurt's voice was unnaturally high, his cheeks flushing, "Blaine, you've made it very clear to me that you don't want me. And then you sent me those texts and called me and left those voicemails—Blaine, I don't know what you want from me. I'm very confused."

"I want _you,_" Blaine snatched Kurt's wrist in his hand, drawing a high sound from Kurt's throat. "Damn you, Kurt, I told you I wasn't gay. I never told you I didn't want you. I think you're the most beautiful thing. Seeing your face every day has kept me sane. But seeing _Sebastian_ drool over your every step—"

Kurt shook his head, "No. No, Blaine. I've _never_ been attracted to Sebastian. He's never touched me. I've never even flirted with him—"

"But during Bad Romance," Blaine countered, squeezing Kurt's hand, "you did all of those suggestive things right _at him_."

"Those were at you, Blaine!" Kurt cried out, "You were _right beside of him_ but you didn't even respond! You just glared at me and I've never been so hurt, Blaine. You were so kind to me and I loved how I felt around you. You hurt me, Blaine, and you promised you wouldn't—"

Blaine moaned and he pressed his mouth to Kurt's, desperate for the taste of him. It was just like he remembered, sweet and warm. Wrapping his arms around Kurt's trembling body, he smoothed his hair and tugged him to his chest. "I'm so sorry." He looked down at Kurt's unsure face, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I want you back… let me do something to make up for what I put you through."

Kurt shook his head, "Oh, Blaine, you don't—"

Kissing Kurt's mouth again, Blaine whispered, "Do you want me to take you on a date? To dinner. Have you ever been on a date, baby?"

Kurt looked startled, his eyes huge. "N-No. Well… Sebastian took me to Breadstix, but that wasn't a date." He blushed and hung onto Blaine tighter, "A date… with you? You don't have to… I know how you feel about me, differently than how I feel about you… but I'd love to."

Blaine smiled and kissed Kurt again, "I'm not just asking, Kurt. I do like you… you make me happy, and not a lot of people do." Burying his face in Kurt's neck, Blaine sighed, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'll do everything I can to not make you cry again. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes." Kurt grinned, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and kissing his cheek. "Your apology was very nice, Blaine… you are a gentleman. I forgive you. Let me get dressed and then I'll go wherever you want to take me." Scooting off the bed, Kurt wandered into his bathroom and peeked out at Blaine once before closing his door. Blaine smiled after him and he couldn't wait to take him somewhere as his date, where he doubted anyone from school—the people who could recognize him—would be.

* * *

Blaine took Kurt's hand and lifted him from his car, wrapping his arm around him when they were both standing on the sidewalk. Kurt shivered and snuggled closer to Blaine, who tightened his grip as they walked toward Breadstix. "Thank you… you're very warm." Kurt whispered, and Blaine gently rubbed his back while he held the door open for him. He didn't know exactly what to say to Kurt, part of his mind still caught on how easily Burt had given up permission for Blaine to take Kurt out, as if he really trusted him when not a lot of people did, and most of his thoughts on the fact that he was actually out with Kurt.

Kurt smiled at the man waiting at the podium when they approached him, and the man was obviously taken by Kurt, but then he noticed Blaine and backed off. "A table for two?"

Blaine nodded, and the man took them back to a private table by a window. Pulling Kurt's chair out for him, Blaine helped him sit down and walked around the table. Kurt smiled at him and blushed, his lashes lowering over bright eyes. "You're very good at this." He giggled, then nipped his bottom lip. "Do you want… to sit closer to me? I'm still a little cold."

Kurt's skin was bright red, which Blaine thought was cute. He could have gone on fighting with himself for hours about why it was bad for him to scoot closer to Kurt, let alone be on a date with him. But he didn't, enjoying this too much, and he moved closer to Kurt. Wrapping his arm around his shoulders, he whispered, "Is this better?"

Swallowing thickly and crossing his legs, Kurt shyly laid his cheek against Blaine's chest. "Yes."

For some reason, Blaine couldn't stop there and he just had to take Kurt's hands. "Do you want me to hold your hands?"

Kurt's smile widened, but he also seemed more embarrassed as Blaine lifted his hands to his face and kissed the backs of both of them. Before they could continue with their nervous flirting, a waiter walked up. This one looked very interested in Kurt, but Kurt didn't even bat a lash. "Can I get your drinks?" the waiter asked, and Kurt looked at Blaine, who was staring at him.

"Can I please have an iced tea?" Kurt peeped softly, and Blaine asked for the same. After the waiter left with one last glance over his shoulder at Kurt, Kurt looked at Blaine and grinned, "You like iced tea."

Blaine was alarmed by the statement, "If I'm in the mood." At Kurt's perkiness, he raised a brow, "What?"

Kurt tilted his head from side to side, "I'm just trying to understand you." Blaine was even more startled by this, as he didn't want anyone to figure him out, but Kurt went on. "So far I know that your moods change constantly. You don't show many emotions but it's obvious when you're happy or sad. You rub your jaw when you're nervous. You're actually very quiet… you don't talk to many people." At this, Kurt frowned, looping his arms around his neck. "You like iced tea. And you like me… but I'm not sure why yet."

Blaine smirked at him, realizing that Kurt wasn't trying to figure him out so he could put him down for his weaknesses. "Anything else?"

Kurt bounced in his seat, and Blaine still found the habit adorable. "Can you tell me?"

Shaking his head, Blaine muttered, "No. I don't even know a thing about myself. But I know a lot about you. You tell everyone everything."

Kurt pointed his nose at the ceiling, faking offense, "I'm very chatty. My aunt calls me a gossip."

"I think it's cute." Pulling Kurt closer, he whispered, "I know you liked to be touched… but only by certain people. You love being around others. You're very emotional. When you giggle you scrunch your nose. And you have this adorable habit of bouncing when you get excited. You like to be happy, and you don't like being upset. You like me… I think."

Kurt scrunched his nose with a giggle, "I love you," he whispered, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers the exact moment Blaine's did. "I mean… I love being around you. Not that I don't—"

Blaine, getting nervous at the thought of anyone falling in love with him, pressed his lips to Kurt's to hush him. "Kurt…" he suddenly didn't know what to say, overwhelmed by his own feelings. He usually didn't feel much of anything, and he didn't like feeling too much. Clearing his throat, he turned his head and muttered, "Never mind."

"Tell me," Kurt cupped Blaine's face and turned his head, pressing his nose to Blaine's. "You look worried."

Rubbing his nose against Kurt's, Blaine pulled away when their drinks arrived. The waiter asked if they were ready to order, but Blaine waved him off. He suddenly felt too sick at his stomach to down anything, and Kurt hadn't even looked at a menu. "Find something you want to eat, sweetheart."

Kurt tilted his head again, and he wouldn't stop looking at Blaine. "What were you going to say to me? Please? I'll listen to whatever it is."

Blaine looked at Kurt again, wondering if he'd gone absolutely insane. If his friends walked in right now, he'd definitely be labeled as gay. But for some reason he didn't really care what they had to say. Rubbing the nape of his neck, Blaine reached across the table and took Kurt's hand. "I… w-want to…" He couldn't get the words out without stammering so he shut himself up again. "Kurt… I want to…"

Kurt smiled, "I'll do anything you want."

"Don't tell me that." Blaine muttered harshly, knowing that could go to his head. His foot twitched and bumped Kurt's under the table, and Kurt jumped. He rubbed the side of Kurt's foot again. "Do you…?" He lifted his eyes to Kurt, who was still smiling and had his chin on his hands. "I want to sleep with you."

Kurt's eyes flew open wide, and he seemed very startled by what Blaine said. He flushed bright red and blinked a few times, "Oh. Do you mean… lay in bed with me… naked?"

Blaine didn't know what he was thinking. Biting his bottom lip, he squeezed Kurt's trembling hand, "Y-Yes." He rubbed his aching forehead, "Sweetheart… I… Kurt. I know how I feel about you and it scares me. But… I do want to… lay in bed with you… naked. And be inside of you. Tell me no… and I won't ask again. I just… the way you make me feel… I've never felt it before. I can open up to you and feel safe."

Pursing his lips, Kurt wrapped his arms around himself, then he put his hands back on the table. "Blaine… I…" He touched the back of Blaine's hand. "I want you, too. I am scared… but I know you won't hurt me."

Blaine, wanting to look anywhere but at Kurt, closed his lips around the edge of his drink and tilted it up. The cool sweetness ran down his dry throat, and the ice bumped his cracked lips. Kurt kept staring at Blaine, playing with the fingers of the hand he had on the table. Blaine finally put his drink down and furrowed his brows at Kurt. Kurt scooted much closer, almost onto Blaine's lap, "How do you feel about me?"

Blaine choked. He didn't want to answer that because he didn't know the answer himself. He knew he cared about Kurt very much, and he loved being with him, and he definitely liked him, but he didn't know how to handle the throb between his thighs every time he got near Kurt, and the urges to be closer to him. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his scratchy face, "Can you tell me?"

Kurt suddenly giggled, "I like you."

And it was as easy as that. Blaine really wanted to be like Kurt, to know exactly where he stood with people and to make things so much easier than having fights with himself over every question he was asked. He opened his eyes again and smiled, "I like you, too." Smoothing a fallen hair off Kurt's forehead, Blaine saw him wriggle even closer. His small hands grabbed Blaine's forearm. "Do you want a kiss?"

Kurt blushed and nodded, so Blaine leaned down and pressed his lips to Kurt's. Sighing, Kurt cupped Blaine's face and tilted his head, trying to deepen the kiss. Blaine slid his tongue out and licked between Kurt's lips, feeling Kurt's hand come to his thigh for balance. His fingers slid up until he felt the hard bump of Blaine's arousal, and he pulled his hand away. "Oh, it's hard—"

Blaine never thought he'd be hearing that sentence out of another boy, but it turned him on. Taking Kurt's hand, Blaine hesitantly laid it on his thigh again, just as unsure about this as Kurt. Kurt flushed and accidentally tightened his fingers, squeezing Blaine. Blaine twitched, "Oh, fuck—" Kurt squeezed again and rubbed his fingers up and down the very visible length.

"It's very warm," Kurt whispered, his cheeks still flushed. "I like touching it."

Blaine closed his eyes and kissed Kurt again, "Do you want to go home? I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Kurt slid his hand up to Blaine's stomach, which didn't really help. "To sleep with me?" He shyly pointed at the large bulge under Blaine's pants. "And put this… inside of me?"

"You act like you've never had a sex talk." Blaine got up and helped Kurt to his feet. "I know you're still a… virgin, but have you ever looked up anything about sex?"

Kurt shook his head, "No. It makes me nervous."

Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt, leading him out onto the sidewalk. He took his jacket off when Kurt shivered and draped it over his shoulders. "And I know too much about straight sex… but nothing about gay sex. I think I'll make it okay for you, though. Just tell me if you don't like something."

He opened Kurt's door for him, and Kurt stepped inside and watched as Blaine walked around the car and got in on his own side. The drive home was almost silent, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Kurt listened to the radio to keep his nerves down, while Blaine fought with himself on everything that could go wrong. But they held hands the entire way, Blaine's thumb stroking circles on Kurt's tingling palm.

About five minutes later, Blaine pulled up in Kurt's driveway and he grabbed Kurt's wrist when he reached for the door handle. "Go on in, baby. I'll be there in a minute." He kissed Kurt's mouth and watched him blush and fumble from his seat, nervously walking up to the house. He gave Blaine a few quick glances as if to assure he wouldn't drive away, then he disappeared into his house.

Blaine stayed behind because he had to calm himself down. Taking deep breaths, Blaine wondered if he was making a mistake. If they were here right now, his friends would have been mocking him, calling him a faggot, and he would have been thrown to the bottom of the food chain. That terrified him, but he still wanted Kurt more than anything. Blaine threw his car door open and stomped out, ignoring the voices of his friends yelling at him in his head.

He quietly pushed open the door and heard Burt's snores coming from down the hallway, so he walked past it and went down the stairs. Blaine opened Kurt's door and closed it behind himself, finding Kurt in front of his mirror, sliding a nightgown over his almost naked body. He had on a pair of blue panties with bows at the top, and Blaine's jaw dropped. He wouldn't ever be able to stop obsessing over those.

Kurt quickly pulled it the rest of the way on, blushing and hiding his body from Blaine by wrapping his arms around himself. "Oh, Blaine—"

Blaine pulled his shirt above his head, leaving his chest completely naked. He worked on the zipper of his jeans and managed to push those down his thighs, and then he was only wearing shoes and his boxers. He kicked his shoes aside, then looked at Kurt again. Kurt was bright red, nervously biting his bottom lip and staring at Blaine's ass. "Do you want to… lay down… with me?"

Kurt instantly scurried over to the bed and burrowed under the blankets, and Blaine followed him. He got rid of his boxers before he climbed on top of Kurt, both of them anxiously shaking. Kurt peeked above the blankets at the heavy weight on top of him, and his mouth fell open at the sight of Blaine's naked body. Blaine smirked at his expression, slowly gaining some confidence since it was Kurt laying underneath him. "Have you ever seen a naked man before?"

Kurt shook his head, still blushing. "You can touch… if you want." He took Kurt's quivering hand and pressed it to his hot chest, and Kurt moaned. He slid his fingers down Blaine's stomach and paused at his abdomen, staring at the heavy weights below. Blaine was very long and thick, almost intimidating, and Kurt wondered how he would fit into his tiny hole that he had poked his fingers into before. His shaft was veiny and tan, and his head was purple and dripping a white-clear liquid. Kurt closed his hand around Blaine's shaft, and Blaine groaned deeply.

He started rubbing up and down, similar to what he'd done in the restaurant, and Blaine quickly pulled his hand off. "Sorry, I… I feel like I'm not going to last long."

Kurt went along with it, even though he didn't know what that meant, and he sniffed his palm. He poked his tongue out and tasted it, "Oh… it's so salty."

Blaine was about to lose his mind. He reached for the bottom of Kurt's nightgown and he slipped it off his little body, tossing it aside. He stared at his tiny, pink nipples, and he wanted to taste them. Hooking his thumbs in Kurt's panties, Blaine slid them down Kurt's thighs and threw them aside, his eyes widening at the sight of Kurt's small, pink cock. His tip was pale pink and leaking moisture, and his shaft was very thin, soft, and white. Hesitantly touching the shaft, Blaine heard Kurt moan lowly.

"Spread your knees, sweetheart." After Kurt opened his legs, Blaine laid down in the little cradle they formed. His heavy weight pressed to Kurt's, and Kurt mewled and arched into Blaine. "Do you like that, feeling my cock on you?"

Kurt helplessly rubbed himself against Blaine's cock, but Blaine pulled up and slid his hand between Kurt's thighs. He pushed one of his fingers inside that tight heat, and Kurt squeaked. "It's okay," Blaine assured him. "Shh… I'm stretching you out. You're so tight."

He slid another finger inside, making Kurt cry out and dig his fingers into Blaine's arms. He wrapped his legs around Blaine's waist, which brought them even closer. Blaine started moving his fingers in and out, then slid in a third when he thought Kurt was ready for it. His walls were warm and moist and very tight on Blaine's fingers. He could feel Kurt squeezing around him.

Pulling his fingers out, Blaine slowly pushed his balmy tip onto Kurt's little hole. Kurt mewled again, and Blaine took that as the okay. Rocking his hips, Blaine pressed his tip inside of Kurt, then slid in another inch. He pulled himself back out, "How does that feel?"

Kurt laid his head back on the pillow, his cheeks flushed and lips quivering, "More… don't stop…"

Blaine pushed his hips against Kurt's again, sinking two inches into Kurt. Kurt moaned and reached for Blaine's head, tugging him down to him. They kissed feverishly, their tongues dancing between their mouths. Blaine rocked his hips and slid himself halfway inside, then a little more. Suddenly, Kurt shrieked and had a spasm underneath him, "Oh! Blaine, it feels good!"

Blaine searched for that spot again, and Kurt mewled and clawed at Blaine's arms. He realized he'd found a sweet spot. Slamming into that little bundle of nerves, Blaine rubbed his tip against it over and over, and Kurt started scissoring his legs around Blaine. "Oh! Oh!"

Kurt started to tighten around him, which milked Blaine's come toward his tip, and he could feel himself shaking. "Kurt!" He shouted and exploded inside of him, and Kurt squealed and sprayed between their stomachs. His warm cum soaked Blaine's chest and abs, and it was the hottest thing he'd ever felt. "Oh, baby…"

Kurt trembled and went limp under him after he'd finished his orgasm, and he closed his eyes. "Blaine… Mm… Blaine…" He was asleep in seconds, obviously exhausted from his first time.

Blaine had a little more energy, as he'd been through sex before, but he was still a little tired. That was the hardest orgasm he'd ever had, and he wanted more. He thought about pushing in and out of Kurt while he slept, but he knew Kurt was probably sore. Gently rubbing Kurt's bottom, Blaine rolled so that he was on the bottom and Kurt rested on top of him. He slid his fingers up and down Kurt's ass crack, massaging around where his cock was still pushed inside of him. Kurt sighed in his sleep, and he tightened his arms around Blaine.

Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead, knowing what he was doing was wrong. Part of him knew that, and he knew that his friends would be right there to ridicule him if they ever found out, but holding Kurt… none of that mattered. For the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed, even comfortable, like he didn't have something to be scared of.


	11. Last Friday Night

Author's note: Hey there :) Welcome back to my story. Aside from the chapter, I'd just like to mention a scene from Props-which, by the way, the switch-ups frightened me-but Kurt and Blaine as Snooki and The Situation! Best scene in the episode! I don't have much to say about this chapter so enjoy it and I'll update again tonight. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated. I love everyone who has reviewed.

Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own Glee. So, I still don't own Glee. And I'm trying to accept this fact but it's not working.

* * *

Slamming into the locker room, Blaine shoved through piles of guys everywhere, all of them half naked and tugging on their jerseys. He ignored them, not in the mood to get friendly with any of them. Not that he ever had been friendly with them. He kept his distance from most of them. Walking up to his locker, Blaine pulled the door open and saw a picture of Kurt on the inside of it, one of him in his cheer outfit. He immediately heard a few of the guys chuckling, but he didn't bother to turn around and see what had amused them. Probably a used condom or a picture of a naked girl.

Blaine pulled off his shirt and reached for his pads, but was stopped by one of them muttering, "Women's locker room is over there." He instantly whipped around, startled by the homophobic comment. A few of the guys were staring at him, smirks on their faces.

"What?" He whispered, yanking his shoulder pads over his head. One of them stepped forward and arched his brows.

"I said… the women's locker room is over there." He pointed at the door over his shoulder, "Maybe your ears are clogged with come." He got a few laughs and shoulder slaps for that last one, and another one of them got right up on Blaine and stole the picture from his locker.

"Don't do it, Blaine." The guy smirked, dangling the picture above the trashcan. Blaine quickly lunged at him and shoved him back, ripping the picture from his fingers. "He's turning you into a fag. You even put your shoulder pads on backwards. Are you already forgetting about sports?"

Gasping, Blaine backed into his locker and waited until all of them left, then he put the picture in his pocket and ripped off his shoulder pads. He didn't really feel like playing, so he shoved them back into his locker and reached for his shirt on the floor. A voice interrupted him from tugging it back on, "What are you doing? The game is in ten minutes."

Blaine looked up at Karofsky, who smirked at him. He reached out and grabbed Blaine's bare shoulder, his fingers sliding up and down it. Blaine pulled away from him, "I'm sick. I can't play."

"I know you better than that." Karofsky raised his brows. "I know something's wrong. If you want to be an asshole and not tell me, then whatever. Are you still coming to the party after the game?"

Pulling his shirt back on, Blaine walked by Karofsky, "I don't know. It depends on what Kurt wants."

"What?" Karofsky was immediately on Blaine's heels, as nosy as ever. "What do you mean, what Kurt wants? You're still fucking around with him? Blaine, he's a fag!"

"Shut up!" Blaine yelled and hit Karofsky, forcing him back a step. "Leave me alone. You don't have to know everything about me." Striding forward, Blaine walked around the field where the football players were lining up their positions. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued on to where the cheerleaders were performing, Kurt off to the side of the girls and happily shaking his pom-poms.

He looked very cute in his little skirt and tank top, his legs kicking up every few seconds and his hands spastically shaking. Feeling himself relax, Blaine walked up to Kurt and tugged him away from the girls. Kurt looked very surprised to see him, "Oh! Blaine, shouldn't you be out there?" He pointed at the field as if Blaine wouldn't know what he was talking about.

Blaine shrugged his shoulders, taking Kurt away from the hooting cheerleaders and the cracking of helmets on helmets. He pulled him under a set of bleachers, where it was much quieter, and he said, "I didn't want to play."

"I'm happy you wanted to be with me." Kurt giggled, snuggling into Blaine's chest. They kissed, but were interrupted by another person slipping under the bleachers. Kurt let go of Blaine and put some distance between them, and Blaine watched one of his former friends walk up to them.

Finn had been Blaine's best friend until high school, when they went their separate ways with Puck and Karofsky. He remembered that leaving Finn had been one of the hardest things for him to do, but it was too late to try and glue their broken relationship back together. They'd become distant, and they both knew it was time to let go. Shaking his past from his head, Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, "What do you want?"

Cocking his head, Finn looked at Kurt, who shyly smiled at him. "Hey, new kid. Nice to finally talk to you." He returned his attention to Blaine, "I wanted to know if you're coming to the after party. It's at Puck's place, if you're interested."

"I love parties!" Kurt squeaked, patting his fingertips together. "Especially tea parties."

Finn suddenly looked awkward, "It's not a tea party." Blowing out heavily, Finn looked at Blaine again, "Why aren't you playing?"

Blaine turned away from Finn, his jaw tightening, "I don't want to."

Taking a step back, Finn held his hands up, "Okay. Whatever, Blaine. I'll see you at Puck's house." He walked away from them, and Kurt immediately closed the distance between himself and Blaine.

He didn't understand the unspoken tension between Blaine and Finn, but Blaine had seemed to clamp up. His eyes were vague and his lips were pursed. Kurt stroked his jaw, "Blaine, are you okay? You look upset."

It took a long time for Blaine to move, then he turned around and stared at the field, where someone on their team made a violent tackle. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it to one side. Kurt followed his gaze across the field to where Karofsky was slumped over on a bench, his hand on a bloody nose. He wondered how he got hurt so quickly. Karofsky's eyes were directly on them, watching Blaine's every move. Blaine finally tore away from him and hid behind a pole, crossing his arms and scuffing the ground with his shoe.

Kurt looked back up at Blaine's hardened face, "Why doesn't Karofsky like me?" He peeped, glancing back at the man who was glaring at him. "Did I do something to bother him?"

Blaine stayed quiet for several minutes, his cold eyes on the ground. Kurt thought he wasn't going to reply, but then he finally muttered, "Karofsky doesn't like anyone." He started walking away from Kurt, so Kurt scampered after him, reaching for his hand.

Sliding their fingers together, Kurt followed him a few feet away from the game, behind the bleachers and distant from everyone. He looked back at the field where the football players were shouting and smashing each other to the ground. Then he glanced at Blaine, who still looked bothered by something. "Is it Finn?" He whispered, squeezing Blaine's hand. "I thought he was very nice… but did you get in a fight with him?"

"No." Blaine said instantly, "It's just… some things I've done that I shouldn't have." Pulling Kurt closer to him, he stroked his hair. "Do you want to go to this party? It's just a lot of drinking and making out."

Kurt frowned at that, then he looped his arms around Blaine's neck, "Will there be music?"

Blaine nodded and wrapped Kurt in his arms, gently rubbing his bottom. "Yeah."

Smiling, Kurt kissed Blaine's mouth. "We should go! I love music… and dancing to it." He twirled just to show Blaine how much he loved to dance, and Blaine smirked at him. Kurt jumped when the bleachers physically shook as crowds of people got to their feet and applauded wildly. Curious as to what happened to excite them, Kurt scurried away from Blaine and pressed himself to the fence lining the field.

Blaine was quickly on his heels, and he stood behind Kurt, his hands sliding to his hips and his chin resting on top of his head. "We just got another touchdown." He told Kurt, who wiggled.

"Is that good?" He touched Blaine's hands, which were rubbing up and down his sides, his fingers slipping slightly down Kurt's skirt.

"Yeah." He pointed at their team, "We start out on that side and we have to get the ball to the other side of the field." Kurt seemed at least a little interested in what he was saying, following his fingers to everything he pointed at. "That guy right there… the quarterback… gives the ball to the running back. The fullback will block for the running back until he gets a touchdown—"

"Are you really trying to teach a fag how to play football?" Both Blaine and Kurt looked up at the sound of Karofsky's voice, and Blaine narrowed his eyes and pushed Kurt slightly behind him.

Karofsky held a red towel to his nose, his eyes narrowed and glazed. Blaine hissed, "Back the fuck away from us, Karofsky. I don't want you near me right now."

Glancing past Blaine to where Kurt was hidden, he sneered, "Stop, Blaine. You don't know what you're doing. That fag is going to drag you down. You'll lose everything." He suddenly reached out for Kurt, and Blaine hit his hand away. "I'm warning you now, fag, stay the fuck away from Blaine."

Kurt squeaked and buried his face in Blaine's shirt, and he stayed like that until Karofsky staggered off. Shivering, Kurt whispered, "Oh, he frightens me. Why is he so mad? I would be nice to him if he'd let me."

"Don't." Blaine muttered in a tone that gave no room for arguing. "Don't try with him. I don't want you anywhere near him. Karofsky has things he needs to figure out on his own."

"Like what? Did someone hurt him and make him so angry?"

Blaine reached down for Kurt's hand and gently squeezed it, "I don't know. Karofsky doesn't talk about his past. Someone might have… but I think Karofsky just hurts himself." Sighing, Blaine closed his eyes and kissed Kurt's forehead, then lifted his head when he saw a few of the football players walking past, Puck with a black eye. Finn had his arm around him, leading him toward the locker rooms.

Kurt pressed his fingertips to his lips, "What happened? Are you okay?"

Puck lifted his head and showed them his swollen eye. He squinted out of the one remaining, "I got in a fight." He muttered, "This guy punched me in the face. The good thing is… the party starts early!" He hollered, and the guys around him hooted and punched each other.

After they hurled themselves into the locker room, Blaine sighed that in the next ten minutes he'd be at Puck's house and sitting through a game of spin the bottle and watching everyone he wanted to avoid drink and make out. He really hated these parties. He looked down at Kurt, who was watching the game again, "Are you ready to go, sweetheart? Puck's house is just a block away."

Kurt followed Blaine when he started walking toward the parking lot, where he found his car and opened Kurt's door for him. Sitting down, Kurt watched Blaine walk around the car and get in, then he asked, "Have you been at Puck's house before?"

Blaine pressed his lips together, obviously bothered by the question. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove onto the road before he finally answered Kurt, "Yes."

That was all Blaine said, so Kurt thought that maybe he didn't want to talk about it, the same as when he didn't want to talk about Finn. He didn't push the subject out of Blaine, and the rest of the car ride was silent. This time it was a little uncomfortable, as Kurt really wanted to know about the things that Blaine wasn't telling him, and Blaine realized that.

After ten minutes, Blaine pulled up in front of a nice looking house, and he opened his door. Unstrapping himself, Kurt glanced up when Blaine popped his door and held his hand out. Kurt happily took it and walked with Blaine up to the front door, where they could already hear yelling. Some of the football players must have beaten them. Blaine knocked on the door and let go of Kurt's hand, and a few seconds later a massive boy with whipped cream on his mouth opened it.

He smirked at Blaine, calling over his shoulder, "Hey, look, it's Blaine." Moving aside, he let them come in, not that Blaine really wanted to.

It was dark inside, but he could see their eyes on him and Kurt, judging them and what they had together. Kurt suddenly looked very uncomfortable, clinging to Blaine's arm as he tried to avoid stepping on empty beer cans and bags of chips. Heavy music blared from the speakers in the corner, music that Kurt definitely couldn't twirl around to.

A guy approached them and held out a beer, "What are you guys drinking? Blaine… a beer?"

Blaine took the beer, even though he wasn't planning on drinking much. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the beer, "Do you have tea or milk?" He asked softly, and someone behind them snorted.

The guy curved half of his mouth, "You're funny, new kid. Have a tequila." He shoved a wine glass into Kurt's hands, running past them when the door opened again. "Hey, it's the girls! Where's the bottle? Where's that fucking bottle? I get to smack my lips to the baby mama's."

Blaine pulled Kurt off to the side of the room, where Kurt wrapped his arms around him and made himself as small as possible, "Oh… this isn't like a party I've ever been to before. My friends and I always had muffins and cake and tea and had nice, lady chats."

"This isn't one of those parties." Blaine said, watching a herd of football players pile into the house. The cheerleaders followed them, among them Blaine's on-and-off girlfriend. Santana was holding hands with Brittany, looking disgusted as the guys shouted and threw themselves at each other.

"Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!" One of the football players shouted, shoving his friends away to get to Quinn, who rolled her eyes at him. "I'd hit that."

"A game?" Kurt squeaked, happily bouncing. "I like games." He hurried forward when everyone started gathering in a circle, and Blaine panicked and reached out for him.

"It's not that kind of game." Blaine frowned when Kurt found a spot beside of Finn and plopped down, "Oh, fuck."

Quinn laughed at something Puck whispered in her ear, then she looked up at Blaine. "Come on, Blaine. I'd make out with you any day."

Rolling his eyes at her teasing, Blaine touched the back of Kurt's shirt and said, "Come here, Kurt. You don't want to play this."

"Don't tell him what to do." One of the football players whacked Blaine away, "If you want to be a pussy, then fine. But let the gay kid live a little." He grinned at Kurt, "You want to be straight for a while?"

Kurt didn't know what he meant, "What?"

One of the football players laid a bottle in the middle of the floor, and Puck immediately reached out and batted it. It landed on one of the cheerleaders, and Quinn looked horrified as Puck leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth.

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "Why did they kiss? What about playing a game like charades… like this?" He held his hands up in front of him, then put his fingers above his head. "What am I?"

A few of the cheerleaders laughed, while most of the football players looked shocked. "Really fucking gay?" One of the guys said, and he got a few laughs.

Kurt looked disappointed at their reactions, and he wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chest. Blaine rolled his eyes, "Don't be mean. He was a bunny."

One of the cheerleaders grinned at Kurt, flipping the bottle toward him. "They kissed because this is a make out game. Take a spin and see who you get."

Kurt stared at the bottle as if he didn't know what it was, and he started scooting toward Blaine. "I don't like this game." He let Blaine lift him to his feet, and the guys laughed at him. Blaine glared at them and nudged Kurt over to the door.

"You want to go home?" Blaine muttered, but saw Finn get up from the corner of his eye. Finn walked over to them, looking just as bored. Well, Kurt didn't look bored, just startled and embarrassed.

"Hey, you guys don't have to leave." Finn offered, "The game sucks but they'll stop when their mouths get sore. You want to hang out?"

Kurt was a little more cautious now, "Does hanging out have anything do with kissing?"

Finn laughed, "No, it just means sit and talk."

Bouncing on his toes, Kurt said, "Sure! You're the first person who's been nice to me at this party, besides Blaine." He held onto Blaine's hand and was instantly on Finn's heels as he walked over to the couches and brushed off a few beer cans. Kurt perched on one of the couches next to Finn's, and Blaine sat down next to him.

Exhausted, Blaine leaned against the arm of the couch and briefly checked on the game. One of the cheerleaders was sucking on Azimio's face, and Blaine grimaced with disgust. Turning back to Kurt and Finn, he heard Kurt chattering about his favorite dress that Paris Hilton wore. He was talking very fast, a little too fast for Finn who was struggling to keep up with him, his eyes glazed and his mouth hanging open.

He relaxed when he realized they weren't going to talk about Blaine's past with Finn, and he rested his cheek against Kurt's shoulder. Closing his eyes, Blaine tried to go to sleep. Kurt was very soft underneath him, his chin brushing the top of Blaine's head every time he said a new word. He felt Kurt's hands come to his head and tangle in his hair, and Blaine sighed heavily.

He was almost asleep when he was disrupted by the feeling of someone's eyes on him. Cracking his lids, he glanced around and saw that Karofsky had arrived and was standing against the wall behind the game of spin the bottle, staring at him. Furrowing his brows, Blaine looked away in rejection and laid his head on top of Kurt's, a protective stance that showed Karofsky that he couldn't get to Kurt.

Yawning, Blaine closed his eyes again, and he felt Kurt shift under him. Kurt gently pushed him away, holding onto him, and he whispered, "You're very cute when you're sleepy." He looked at Finn and smiled, "Thank you for talking to me, Finn. I think Blaine and I are going home now."

"Nice seeing you." Finn said, "Bye, Blaine."

Blaine half opened his eyes and scowled at Finn, then noticed that he looked very sincere. Turning away, Blaine got up and held onto Kurt's waist. Kurt tiptoed in front of him, still trying not to step on anything gross. "I had fun!" He chattered. "Finn was very polite and nice."

Blaine said nothing about that, opening Kurt's car door for him after they got outside. Kurt slipped inside and waited for Blaine to get in on the driver's side, then he started going on and on again. It was nice hearing his voice the entire way home, listening him to him tell Blaine all of what Finn had said to him.

Once they got to Kurt's house, Kurt had finally stopped talking and was curled up in his seat, sleepily rubbing his eyes. "Can I stay over again?" He muttered, staring at his house with dread. He didn't want to leave Kurt, but he also hated going home.

"I'd love that!" Kurt peeped, happily bouncing.

Blaine got out and walked around the car, then opened Kurt's door and picked him up. Cradling him against his chest, Blaine carried him inside and down the stairs. They stripped their clothes off, but then they just laid together, Blaine's arms around Kurt and his hands on his stomach, and Kurt's hands reaching back and grabbing Blaine's thighs. They were both exhausted, and things were still a little tense because Kurt was more curious than ever about the things that Blaine wouldn't tell him.


	12. I Have Nothing

Author's note: Here's my second, and hopefully final, draft of this chapter. For those of you just now reading this or rereading it, you've probably become aware of many changes. For those of you rereading this and/or waiting on my sequel, my revisions are taking so long because I decided to rewrite a few chapters. California should be the last chapters I want to rewrite, so my sequel should be up by next weekend :)

* * *

Blaine stepped down the stairs and spotted Kurt curled up in his bed, his naked body tangled in the messy blankets. Smiling at Blaine, Kurt held his hands out when he handed him a glass of warm milk. "Mm… thank you…" He sipped the top of it and closed his eyes, "Delicious. Do you want some?" He held the glass up to Blaine, who took it and pressed it to his lips.

After he finished drinking, he set the glass aside and laid down beside of Kurt. He wrapped him in his arms and kissed the top of his head, "It's really good, Kurt." He whispered, leaning down and kissing Kurt's lips. "Sweet and thick."

Kurt giggled, rolling over and reaching back to rub Blaine's thighs. Blaine tightened his arms and pressed his nose to Kurt's hair. "I have to go home tomorrow morning." He said to Kurt, who frowned and instantly turned back around, staring at Blaine with wide eyes. "I need new clothes. It'll only take me an hour, then I'll be back."

"Can I come with you?" Kurt peeped, sliding his hands to Blaine's back and rubbing. "We drive by your house every day but I've never seen the inside of it. I want to see your room."

Despite his worry of Kurt running into his parents, Blaine chuckled and nuzzled Kurt's forehead, "My room isn't that interesting, I promise. But… I'd rather go alone, honey. It's not that I don't want you to see it… it's… my parents. They're a lot like how I was… when we first met. I just worry… that they would hurt your feelings or insult you."

"Oh," Kurt stopped rubbing his hands up and down, and he turned his head to the side. Blaine kissed his cheek, rubbing the tip of his nose on his soft skin. "Do you ever still feel that way about me?"

Blaine blew out heavily, cupping Kurt's cheeks in his hands. "No… I don't. Kurt, look at me. I didn't even feel that way in the beginning… it's just what I've always known. I'm sorry if I ever hurt you… because I was homophobic to you." Kissing Kurt's mouth, he whispered, "You're so perfect."

Kurt blushed and closed his eyes, feeling Blaine kiss everywhere on his face. "Blaine?" He opened his eyes and looked at Blaine, "Can I tell you something? I don't want you to get mad at me."

"Honey," Blaine pulled away from Kurt and stared into his big, blue eyes, "you can tell me anything. I won't get mad at you." Running his fingers through Kurt's silky hair, Blaine tried to soothe his worry.

Pressing his lips together, Kurt slid his trembling fingertips to Blaine's chest, brushing his tight nipples. Blaine swallowed thickly and took one of his hands in his, lifting it to his mouth. "Just talk to me, sweetheart." Blaine begged, and Kurt trembled.

"I feel so much for you." Kurt whispered, twisting the mat of hair on Blaine's chest in his fingers. "My hands shake when you're near me. And when you hold me in your arms… I just want to be closer to you. You're all I can think about. I love how you can make me smile… and when you tease me and I giggle and you tell me how pretty my giggle is. I love falling asleep against your chest, and knowing you'll be there when I wake up—" When Blaine shifted underneath him, Kurt lifted off of him and looked like he'd been slapped. Tears instantly filled his eyes and he pulled away from Blaine, "I made you uncomfortable because you're straight, didn't I?"

Blaine also sat up, wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind. "No… No, sweetheart. Look at me… shh." Rubbing his thumb over Kurt's damp eyes, he kissed the side of his face, "No one's ever said things like that to me. I didn't know I meant that much to you. That makes me happy." Pulling Kurt against his chest, Blaine pressed his face to Kurt's shaking shoulder. "I don't deserve you."

Kurt kept crying as Blaine gently rubbed his shoulders, so he nibbled his ear and whispered the one thing he never thought he'd be saying to another boy, "What if I told you I loved you?"

That instantly stopped Kurt's crying, and he peeked over his shoulder. "But you're straight—" he peeped, interrupted mid-sentence by a hiccup.

Blaine shook his head, bundling Kurt up tighter, "My sexuality doesn't matter when it comes to the way I love you. I've tossed and turned about the way I feel about you… and I realized that I need your kisses. I need you here…" he tugged on Kurt and made him collapse against his chest, and Kurt turned his face into Blaine's chest, quietly sobbing, "in my arms. I haven't loved anyone before. And I know you have strong feelings for me… do you love me?"

Kurt cooed and clung to Blaine, "I love you so much…" he breathed on Blaine's nipple, and Blaine twitched. "Blaine…"

Rolling Kurt underneath him, Blaine desperately pressed their lips, "I love you…" He lowered his head and kissed Kurt's neck, and Kurt whimpered and wrapped him in his arms.

* * *

Blaine stormed into his house a little after eight and crept through his living room, not wanting to be seen by anyone. He heard his mom's voice from the living room, and before he could hurry upstairs and vanish into his bedroom, his mom poked her nose above the back of the couch. "Blaine!" She waved him over, "Aren't you going to say hi?"

Blaine wasn't in the mood for idle chat, not when Kurt was waiting for him, but he shrugged his shoulders, "Hi."

Another head popped up from the couch, and Blaine raised his brows at his older brother, Cooper. He hadn't seen Cooper in a while, as he was busy with shooting commercials. Although Blaine and Cooper weren't very close, Blaine favored him to the rest of his family. He'd been the one to raise Blaine when he was just a baby, since his parents had little interest in him. "Blainey!" Cooper waved at him as if he didn't already see him. "Surprise! I'm home!"

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you doing here?"

Maddie, his mom, scowled at his lack of emotion, "Blaine, the least you could do is smile. This is your brother." Rubbing Coop's shoulder, she said, "He's just a little grumpy."

Cooper smiled and held his arms out for Blaine, "I want a hug from my favorite brother!"

Blaine sighed and forced himself to walk across the room, bending down to wrap his brother in his arms. He spied a little, blond girl on another couch, recognizing her from a few years ago. She waved at him, "Hi, Blaine. I don't know if you remember me but I'm Alicia."

Raising his brows, Blaine said nothing to that and glanced over his shoulder when a pair of heavy boots thudded down the hallway behind him. His dad walked into the living room with his arms full of paperwork, "Maddie, where did you put our credit card for travel?"

"In the top drawer of your work desk." Maddie told him, and then he disappeared back down the hallway, not even acknowledging Blaine with a nod. She returned her attention to Cooper, "I can't wait to go on this trip. It'll be relaxing getting away from home."

For the first time since he'd overheard them talking, Blaine wanted in on the conversation. "What trip?"

Cooper glanced up at Blaine, "I was asked to be in the fourth Transformers movie… The producers are having a dinner in California for the entire cast. It's a family thing… so I invited all of you."

And Blaine regretted asking. Turning away, Blaine stepped onto the first stair, but his mom's sharp voice cut him off. "Blaine, don't just walk away. You're coming, too, and that's final."

"I don't want to go to California." Blaine snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets. Because he hated Lima so much, he usually would have gone along with them, but he had Kurt to be with now. "You can't make me go."

"Oh, yes, I can." Maddie's pale face turned red with anger. "You're still living in my house and I'm paying for all of your food, so you're going. Don't be so stubborn, Blaine. Your brother just got home and invited you to a nice dinner. Can't you not be yourself for five minutes and actually appreciate this?" She instantly realized she was raising her voice and calmed herself down, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tell you what… you can bring a friend."

Blaine rolled his eyes and started to lash out at her, then he looked at Coop's wide eyed face. Cooper seemed hurt by what he was saying, so he took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine…" he muttered, "I'll come."

"Oh, good!" Maddie clapped her hands, as if she was the one who convinced Blaine. "You can bring that nice girl you date around with… Santana, right? Or that boy… David Karofsky? He really likes you. You have so many friends to choose from." She touched Coop's shoulder again, "He's very popular at school."

Rubbing his scratchy face, Blaine sat down on the edge of a lounge chair, "I'm going to ask Kurt. He's the one I want with me."

"Kurt?" Her brows furrowed. "You mean Burt Hummel's son? I know I told you to be nice to him… I didn't think you'd get close to him."

"Kurt Hummel?" a voice muttered behind them, and Blaine looked over his shoulder at his dad. He had his thick arms crossed, his dark brows pushed together. When Blaine didn't make a sound, his dad shook his head. "No, I don't want you bringing him."

"Why not, Richard?" Maddie asked, obviously concerned. "He seems like a sweet boy. And Burt's a very nice man."

Richard shook his head, "That boy is gay, and I don't think Blaine needs to be around that. And that Burt Hummel approves of it… didn't even try to get his son help. I know if either of my boys told me they were gay, I'd put them on medication. It's not normal, Maddie."

Maddie looked shocked, "I told Blaine to be nice to Kurt. I had no idea he was gay—"

"What difference would it make!" Blaine abruptly yelled, "Dammit, what are you saying? That I'm suddenly supposed to be cruel to Kurt because he's gay?"

"Homosexuality is sick, Blaine!" Richard threw his paperwork down on a table, showing his frustration, "You never hang out with your friends anymore, and they don't want to be around you because he's always with you. He's not normal, Blaine, which is why none of your friends like him—"

Slamming past his dad, Blaine took the stairs three at a time and yelled, "Am I not normal because I kissed him?" Stomping into his bedroom, Blaine heard his dad yell his name, but he slammed his door shut.

* * *

Kurt rolled over when he heard his phone buzz, and he set his nail polish aside. Staring at his drying nails, Kurt carefully picked up his phone and saw Blaine's picture on the screen. He smiled and instantly forgot about his nails, swiping the screen to answer the call. His polish smeared and he frowned, wiping the ruined nails on a towelette. "Blaine! Will you be home soon? I miss you so much but I've been painting my nails to keep busy. It's a pretty, sparkly color. I think you'll like it! I like anything sparkly."

It sounded like Blaine huffed out a laugh. "I know I'll like it." He was quiet for a few seconds, then he muttered, "I'll be back in a little while, honey. I'm sorry it's taken so long… I talked to my family. I have to tell you something."

Startled by Blaine's flat tone, Kurt flipped onto his back and started painting his ruined nails again. "What's the matter? Am I not allowed to be with you anymore? Oh, please, tell me that I am. I like being with you."

"No…" Blaine sighed heavily, "honey, no. No one's going to take you from me. It's my brother… he came home and told me we're taking a trip to California. I can't get out of it."

"That's great news!" Kurt peeped, not seeing how Blaine was so upset. "I don't know much about California but I heard that it's warm and bright and pretty!"

Blaine took another few minutes to reply, and Kurt heard him zipping something up. "I can't go without you." He suddenly whispered, "I have to take you with me."

That caused Kurt pause, and he immediately thought about his dad, who was still very sick and weak. "Oh, Blaine…" Kurt lowered his voice, rolling onto his side and curling into a small ball. "That's so sweet of you to ask me… but I can't. My dad still needs to be looked after. I feel terrible, but you have plenty of friends you can ask."

"I'm not going without you," Blaine repeated. "I'll… do something. I just can't be without you. I'll tell my parents I'm sick and can't go."

"You can't!" Kurt slowly sat up and he slid off of his bed. Holding his drying fingers up, he walked over to his window and looked out at Blaine's house. He saw a few lights on, and he wondered which one was Blaine's room. "Oh, Blaine. I can't stop you from leaving for California. It could be a good time."

Kurt saw the slightest of movements in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and then a dark figure pressed against the window. He made out Blaine's hard face, his golden eyes staring right back at Kurt. Blushing, Kurt turned away, but then he heard Blaine's voice, "It's okay. You don't have to be embarrassed. I used to watch your house all the time."

At that, Kurt helplessly giggled and looked back at Blaine's house. Blaine was still there, and he smirked at Kurt. Smiling, Kurt whispered, "Do you really want me to come?"

Blaine's eyes narrowed and he sighed heavily, and he put his cheek against the window. He nodded, "I don't like being away from you."

Kurt's skin turned bright red, and he hid from Blaine until it faded to pink. He peeked back out and Blaine was still there, still watching him. The blush was back, but this time Kurt didn't hide. "My dad… has friends he could stay with while we're away. I'll be nervous to leave him, but I don't like being away from you, either."

Blaine pressed his lips together, something he did when he wanted to kiss Kurt but couldn't, so Kurt touched his fingertips to his lips and blew Blaine a kiss. Smiling, Blaine whispered, "I love you."

Kurt trembled at those three words, "I love you, too. Can you come back now? I want you to hold me… and tell me what California is like." He giggled at the thought of going to California with Blaine.

"I'll tell you right after I kiss you." Blaine muttered, "Because I love when you blow me kisses… but I like pressing my lips to yours even more. I'll be over in five minutes." Lowering his phone, Blaine stayed at the window for several seconds, almost unable to pull away from Kurt's blue gaze, but then he shook his head with a deep sigh and turned around.

Kurt giggled and stayed there, wanting to watch him finish packing. His view wasn't that good, but he could see Blaine's dark shadow moving. "California… with Blaine…" Squealing, Kurt bounced up and down and forgot that Blaine had just put his phone down and hadn't actually hung up. He must have heard Kurt's funny sound because he returned to his window, his brows raised, and then he started laughing when Kurt blushed again.


	13. Teenage Dream

Author's note: Okay, here's the second draft of this chapter! I still don't know who I'm talking to here, if you've already finished this book or are just now reading it. Either way, I will have all of the errors (I hope) taken out by this weekend. I'm working really hard to get this edited and want to have the sequel up as soon as possible!

* * *

Kurt folded a yellow sundress and slipped it into his suitcase, smiling as he felt a strong pair of arms wrap around him from behind. Burying his face in Kurt's bare shoulder, Blaine pressed a kiss to his pale skin and rubbed his nose against it. "My parents just left with Cooper and Alicia." Blaine muttered, pulling away from Kurt and sitting down on the edge of his bed. "We can meet them there in a half an hour. They're getting us checked in."

Putting a white blouse on top of his dress, Kurt zipped up the main pouch of his suitcase and put his makeup bag in the front one. "I'm almost ready. I just can't choose between my icing dress…" he picked up a white, short dress with thick shoulder straps, and held it up to his body, then a golden, tight dress with wrinkles in the front, "or my pencil dress."

He did a little twirl to show them off, and Blaine laid back and put his hands behind his head. "Take both of them. I know you like to change outfits a lot."

Kurt clapped and bounced on his toes, "Oh, that's a very good idea! If only I could get my airport outfit to stay together." Frowning at the back of his baby doll dress, where two sashes hung limply, Kurt tugged at them, "My bow keeps coming untied."

Blaine slowly sat up and gestured for Kurt to turn around, "Come here." Taking Kurt's hips in his hands, Blaine grabbed the sashes and twisted them together, making a bow. He slid his hands down to Kurt's round bottom, "I think they'll stay together now." Rubbing Kurt's butt, Blaine leaned forward and pressed his lips to Kurt's lower back, kissing his way down to Kurt's bottom.

"Mm…" Kurt stretched and pushed back into Blaine, feeling him bite down onto his left butt cheek. "Oh, Blaine… don't. I won't ever get packed if you take me to bed."

Blaine pressed a sloppy kiss to the middle of Kurt's butt cheeks, then he hesitantly lifted his head. Falling back on the pillows, Blaine stared at Kurt as he turned back around and got busy packing again. There was an obvious, small bulge in the front of Kurt's dress now, and it turned Blaine on. Crossing his arms so he couldn't reach down and touch himself, Blaine watched Kurt tap his chin as he thought of new things to grab. When Kurt walked away to find something in his closet, Blaine scooted to the end of the bed and threw a few socks into the open pouch.

Kurt returned with his hands full of silky panties, and Blaine's mouth fell open. Blushing, Kurt quickly stuffed them in and closed that pouch. "I think that's everything." He murmured, sitting down beside of Blaine and resting his cheek on his shoulder. "Oh, packing is exhausting… I'm going to snooze for the entire plane ride."

Pulling Kurt to his chest, Blaine smoothed his hair and kissed the top of his head, "We'll be in California in a few hours and you can relax. Coop has a beach house and it's really nice out there. Quiet. I think you'll like it."

Giggling, Kurt snuggled into Blaine's arms, "I'm so happy to be going with you. I feel spoiled that you chose me… and so flattered." He tilted his head up and kissed Blaine's mouth, "Thank you."

Blaine smiled and fell back on the bed, taking Kurt with him, "You don't have to thank me, sweetheart. I love being with you."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and laid his cheek on his chest, "I am a little worried…" he whispered, and Blaine instantly frowned and lifted his head. "What if people talk? Blaine, you're straight. If I vacation with you, they'll think we're together."

Blaine shook his head, "I'm starting to think that's not a bad thing." When Kurt blushed and his eyes widened, Blaine kissed the top of his head, "They already talk. Nothing they say is going to hurt me… or us."

Snuggling into Blaine, Kurt whispered, "I just don't want you to be mad at me if I ruin your reputation."

Pressing his face to Kurt's, Blaine assured him, "You won't ruin anything, honey. I'm not going to get mad at you." He gave Kurt a soft kiss, "I want you to know how much you mean to me… more than anyone else. Nothing is going to put distance between us."

Kurt finally smiled and lifted his head, "You're very sweet to me." Pressing a kiss to Blaine's mouth, Kurt whispered, "Thank you." He rolled off of Blaine and slid his legs off the bed, and Blaine followed him.

"Are you ready, baby?" Blaine rubbed his back, feeling him leave his hand when he went over to his dresser to grab a pink purse. Pulling Kurt's luggage off the bed, Blaine snatched his luggage at the doorway and opened the door. Kurt pranced by him and scurried up the stairs, and Blaine was right on his heels.

They walked through the house and out the front door, and Kurt skipped to Blaine's car. Blaine threw their luggage in the back and got in the front seat, instantly reaching for Kurt's hand. The drive to the airport was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Kurt had his cheek on Blaine's shoulder, and they were playing with each other's fingers, and they kissed each other every time Kurt snuggled a little closer. Blaine was happy to be with Kurt, and he knew he was just as happy from the smile on his face.

As they got closer to the airport, Kurt turned his face into Blaine's neck and asked, "What will your family think of me?"

Blaine swallowed and squeezed Kurt's hand, "They'll think you're nice… of course they'll think you're beautiful. My brother will do his best to embarrass me… he'll try to make you laugh. I think you'll get along with my mom… but don't get intimidated by my dad. He's strict and he scowls, but he won't say anything bad in front of you."

"About me being gay?" Kurt whispered, but Blaine didn't say anything to that.

Blaine pulled into the airport parking lot and found a spot near the doors, and he got out and walked around to Kurt's door. Opening it for him, Blaine reached in and helped him out. After he grabbed their luggage, he walked with Kurt into the building, his arm around his waist. He got a few strange looks that he was very aware of, but Kurt didn't react to much of it. He must have been used to it.

They found his parents in the waiting room for the flight going to California, and Blaine was shocked to see his brother standing at the edge of the waiting area, waving at him. Kurt's eyes widened and he looked up at Blaine, "Is that your brother?"

Blaine's jaw hardened, "Yeah… that's Cooper." Rolling his eyes at his brother's dramatic show, Blaine approached him and was startled when Kurt was stolen from his arms. His brother happily scooped him up and squeezed him tightly, much to Kurt's surprise.

"Look at you!" Cooper almost shouted, shaking Kurt until he got dizzy. "You're even cuter in person. Blaine has lots and lots of pictures of you in his bedroom." He lowered his voice at that last, but Blaine could still hear him. He sighed.

Kurt was excited to find another person as bouncy as he was, and he clapped his hands, "Hi! I'm so happy to meet you!"

Cooper kept squeezing him, looking up when Maddie walked over. Her eyes flicked up and down Kurt's body, and her shock at his dress was obvious. But she managed to hide it behind a tight smile, and she held her hand out, "Hi, sweetie. I'm Blaine's mom, Maddie Anderson. It's so good to meet you. I had no idea you and Blaine were so close."

While Kurt shyly draped his hand over Maddie's, Blaine turned his eyes to where his dad stood about a foot away, glaring at him. He looked absolutely disgusted, but at least he wasn't saying a word. Shaking his head at his dad's rudeness, Blaine took Kurt back into his arms. Maddie glanced over her shoulder, "Our plane should be boarding any minute now. Do you know much about California?"

Kurt shook his head, "No, but Blaine told me all about it and I've seen pictures! It's so pretty!"

"It is," Alicia agreed, getting up from her chair after Kurt finished greeting all of the family who wanted to greet him. "It's beautiful there. Coop's house is right on the ocean. Have you ever seen the ocean?"

Kurt shook his head again, and Alicia playfully hit Blaine, "Blaine, you have to take him swimming. He seems adventurous."

That made Blaine smile, and he rubbed Kurt's back, "He's very curious. Kurt, this is my brother's girlfriend, Alicia."

Kurt smiled at her, "It's nice to meet you. I like your shoes."

She glanced at her sandals and grinned, "Oh, thanks. I like your entire outfit. You're so fashionable… you have to take me shopping on the boardwalk. The shops on the boardwalk are so trendy and unique… the stuff is all homemade and it's so bedazzled."

"I love bedazzled clothes." Kurt touched his pink purse, which was bedazzled with a little rose on the corner. "I did this one… but I buy a lot of bedazzled clothes from Chanel. They're big on bedazzles."

"You made that?" Alicia touched the fragile artwork, "That's so pretty." Wrapping her arm around him, she grinned, "I have a feeling you and I are going to be best friends."

The doors opened for them to board the plane, so Blaine started gathering their stuff and took Kurt's hand. They followed his family down the hallway and onto the plane, where Blaine guided Kurt down the wide hallway of the first class part of the plane. He found them seats a few rows away from the rest of his family, and Kurt picked the seat beside of the window. Sitting down next to him, Blaine wrapped his arm around him and pulled him to his chest.

Sighing, Kurt cuddled into him and closed his eyes, feeling Blaine's lips on the top of his head. "I'm so comfortable."

Blaine smiled, "Do you want to put your head on my lap and take a nap?"

Kurt happily took Blaine up on his offer, and he laid down on his lap. Kissing Blaine's thigh, he whispered, "Tell me a little more about California."

Chuckling, Blaine stroked his soft hair, "I haven't been there in years. Coop's been traveling a lot so we haven't visited his house in a while. I do remember that I didn't like the city… the boardwalk was alright because I loved the food." At Kurt's soft giggle, he looked down and kissed the side of his face. "The food was amazing. But I really liked the beach… it's not that crowded where Coop's at, and I could just sit there and not have to talk or listen to anyone. Sometimes I get tired of hearing my friends yell and shout and smack each other with their helmets. I just want them to be quiet… or leave me alone."

Kurt didn't make a sound at that, and Blaine glanced at him again. His eyes were closed and his face was pressed to Blaine's stomach, his small hand rubbing up and down Blaine's abs. Blaine liked the soothing feeling of it. Breathing out heavily, Blaine bent over and pressed his face to the side of Kurt's head. Kurt opened his blue eyes and peeked at Blaine, "Will you want me to leave you alone?" He peeped, and Blaine nuzzled him.

"No." He muttered, kissing Kurt's cheek. "I want you near me." Smiling, Blaine whispered, "I'm taking you to California. I won't want this to end, just you and me on vacation together."

Kurt giggled, and Blaine liked the way his shoulders shook against his stomach, "It's not just us, silly man. We have your parents, and your nice brother and his girlfriend. I like them—"

Blaine interrupted Kurt with a kiss, "We won't be around them much… so, for me, it's just us."

Cracking open one eye, Kurt asked, "We won't?"

Blaine shook his head, "No. We'll be sleeping in our own bedroom and I won't want to leave it much." At that, Kurt turned bright red and hid his face. Blaine rubbed his back again, then looked out the window when the plane shuddered. "I think we're taking off, baby."

"I'm very excited." Kurt peeped, lifting his head and peeking out the window. "Oh, Blaine! The plane is moving!"

Blaine took Kurt in his arms and watched his excitement, his eyes sparkling as he bounced up and down. He thought it was cute. Stroking Kurt's hair, Blaine pulled him close and sat back in his seat, his eyes flicking over to the rest of his family. His parents were already buried in paperwork, and his brother and Alicia were bent over her stomach and smiling. Furrowing his brows at that, Blaine turned away again.

He rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, closing his eyes. Kurt peeled away from the window and wrapped his arms around Blaine, pecking his lips to the top of his head. Sliding his hand up Kurt's little dress, Blaine rubbed his soft thigh with his palm and knuckles. Kurt suddenly yawned and he squished his face to Blaine's hair, "I feel so tired. I was so excited last night that I couldn't even close my eyes."

Blaine smiled and lifted his head again, cuddling Kurt into his chest. He laid his head on top of his, "Go to sleep, honey. I might… you're very soft and comfortable." Kissing Kurt's nape, he whispered, "When you wake up, we'll be in California."

Sleepily yawning, Kurt tried to smile and he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, Blaine could feel his head nodding, so he laid him down on his lap. Running his fingers up and down Kurt's back, Blaine turned and looked at his family again. His dad had headphones in and was reading a newspaper, and his mom was going through her purse. He turned his eyes to Alicia and Cooper, and Cooper had his hand on Alicia's stomach. Blaine still didn't understand.

Returning his attention to Kurt, Blaine gently ran his fingers through his hair when he sighed. He closed his own eyes and rested on top of Kurt, breathing in his sweet perfume. Kurt was very soft and warm, his dark blond hair tickling Blaine's cheek. He could feel himself getting tired, and he let himself sleep on top of Kurt.

* * *

Blaine opened his eyes when someone patted his back, and he yawned and stretched his muscles. Lifting his head from Kurt's small back, Blaine looked up at his brother, who touched a piece of his hair and stroked it back into place. "We're here, Blainey. Come on." He walked away and helped Alicia off the plane, so Blaine turned to Kurt and gently rubbed his back.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, and Kurt's lashes fluttered. "Come here. We're in California." Lifting Kurt up, Blaine rested him against his chest and kept rubbing and stroking him until his blue eyes opened. He sleepily mewled and clung to Blaine, and Blaine slowly got to his feet and almost picked Kurt up. Half carrying Kurt off the plane, Blaine found his family waiting at the end of the hallway.

After they got their luggage, they walked out of the airport and got into a car his dad rented. Sitting in the back with Kurt, Blaine kept him in his arms and watched his lashes bat a few times, his pink mouth opening in another small yawn. He finally turned to look out the window, although he still seemed dazed, and he said, "It's so warm here."

Blaine's dad pulled out of the airport and onto the main road, and Kurt's eyes widened as he saw palm trees and the ocean in the distance. Blaine smiled at how fascinated Kurt looked. The beach house was about twenty minutes away from the airport, so it didn't take long to get there. When his dad pulled into the parking lot, Blaine followed his brother out of the car so they could get some of the bags. Kurt quickly scampered after Blaine, gasping when he crunched on some sand.

Blaine turned away from the trunk, his arms full of bags, and he led Kurt onto the beach. Kurt sunk into the sand and he couldn't get the right footing, almost toppling over a few times, so he held onto Blaine's arm for balance. Blaine stopped so Kurt could look around. Pointing at the ocean, Blaine said, "Kurt, sweetheart, look. You can see some fish on the surface."

Kurt followed Blaine's finger and gasped, hopping up and down. He started sinking again, so he held on tighter to Blaine. "Oh, Blaine, it's so pretty!"

"So beautiful…" Blaine quietly agreed, and Kurt looked at him and blushed when he realized he was staring at him and talking about him. Leading Kurt over to the small, mostly glass house, Blaine opened the door and nudged Kurt inside. It was an ocean theme on the inside, lots of blues and seashells decorating the living room. "My room is upstairs. Cooper let me have it for when I visit."

"No, Blaine." said a voice from behind them, and they both looked at his dad. "You're not staying in the same room. Kurt, you'll sleep in the guest bedroom. I want the doors to stay open."

Blaine rolled his eyes and ignored his dad, not actually planning on listening to him. He nudged Kurt up the stairs and to the door of his bedroom. Pushing it open, he let Kurt go in first, and he frowned at all of the football stuff lying around, all of the pads and jerseys. For some reason, he felt like he didn't belong there, that those weren't his things. It looked like Karofsky's bedroom.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Blaine turned around to face Kurt, who was peeking into the door of the guest bedroom that connected to Blaine's room. He glanced over his shoulder, "Is that mine?" He peeped, and Blaine tilted his head. "This room is yours."

He nodded, "Yeah… this one is mine." Opening the door to the guest room farther, Blaine followed Kurt inside. "I don't want to sleep away from you, so we can sleep in here." He didn't really want Kurt in his bedroom, not when he didn't feel like it was actually his. Dropping the luggage to the floor, Blaine pulled off his thick sweatshirt and knelt by his black suitcase.

Kurt wandered around the room, then he boosted himself onto the bed. Squeaking when he sank in, he wiggled to the middle of it, "You could get lost in this bed!" He giggled, sitting up and watching Blaine pull on a thin tee shirt.

Blaine chuckled and stood up again, lowering onto the edge of the bed. "What do you think?"

Scooting over to Blaine, Kurt wrapped his legs around him from behind and nibbled on his earlobe. "I really like it here, Blaine." When his stomach gurgled, he blushed and said, "I'm a little hungry. Do you have anything to snack on?"

Blaine turned his head and kissed Kurt on the mouth, "We can go to dinner on the boardwalk. Do you want to, baby? Then we can eat it on the beach if you'd like that." Grabbing Kurt's thighs, Blaine stretched his legs out and rubbed his hands up and down the soft skin.

Kurt giggled, "I'd love that. That sounds so romantic…" Getting up, much to Blaine's grievance, Kurt did a little twirl. "I'm so happy."

Pulling Kurt against him again, Blaine spread his legs so Kurt could stand between them. He kissed him again, "You make me happy." He whispered, standing up and collecting Kurt in his strong arms. "Kiss me."

Kurt stood up on his toes and kissed Blaine's lips, and Blaine parted and licked the tip of Kurt's tongue. Backing him against a wall, Blaine groaned when Kurt shyly lifted his leg and hooked it around his ass. He smirked against his mouth, "You are so sexy." Taking Kurt's hand and lifting them above their heads, Blaine spun Kurt under his arm and led him over to the door.

Walking hand in hand with Kurt down the stairs, Blaine saw his parents on the couch and said, "We're leaving." They didn't acknowledge him, too caught up in their work, so Blaine opened the front door and stepped onto the sand. It was so warm outside, and that and Kurt's warm hand in his and their shoulders brushing made Blaine feel so good. "The boardwalk is just up there. What kind of food do you like?"

Kurt laughed, "Cheesecake is my favorite. And then I love anything sweet. And salads." Squeezing Blaine's hand and hopping, Kurt followed him onto the sidewalk where little shops were lined up. He could smell frying food and hear blenders making smoothies, and he peeked into every jewelry store they passed. "Mm… this all smells delicious."

They walked for a little while until Blaine found a sweets shop, and he nudged Kurt up to the little stand in front. He ordered a slice of cheesecake for Kurt, and Kurt happily took it and instantly bit down into the cake. "Mm… Blaine. It's yummy. Thank you."

Blaine rubbed his back and took them up to a seafood restaurant where he ordered two salads and iced teas. They took their things back to a quiet part of the beach where no one was, and Blaine chose a spot right on the shore. Helping Kurt sit down, Blaine dropped beside of him and started opening their salads.

Kurt pulled off his shoes and set them aside, putting his toes in the cool water. "Oh, Blaine… this is so beautiful." Curling into Blaine's side, he whispered, "I love you so much."

Blaine kissed the top of his head, "I love you, too." When Kurt took a bite of his salad, Blaine reached in his pocket, "I have something for you." Kurt looked startled but pleased, so Blaine picked up his hand and slid a tiny, gum wrapper ring with a bow on top onto his ring finger.

"_Blaine,_ you made me a ring?" Kurt squeaked, turning his hand this way and that to admire the little ring. "Oh… Wrigley's Juicy Fruit… my favorite. And a little bowtie! I love it!"

Blaine smiled at Kurt's adoration of his gift, and he laid back on the sand and put his hand behind his head. "I know I'm not romantic or… good at showing my emotions, but I want you to know how much I love you."

Kurt put his fingertips on his lips, his eyes sparkling and his dimples popped, "Blaine, you are very good at romancing. And I love this… all of this. Spending time with you… and being in California with you. It's so exciting." Sighing, Kurt laid down on Blaine's chest, and Blaine wrapped him in his arms.

"Kurt…" Blaine whispered, stroking Kurt's back with his fingertip, "Kurt."

Giggling, Kurt kissed Blaine on his mouth. "My Blaine…" He cupped Blaine's face and rubbed the ring against Blaine's cheek. "I love you."


	14. The Antidote

Author's note: Here's my second draft. I plan on getting a lot edited today because I don't have much to do. I'm sorry about the long wait for my sequel!

* * *

Blaine felt the car stop in front of the multimillion dollar house of Cooper's producer, but he didn't move. He didn't want to be suffocated by mindless chatter and faked smiles and noisy laughter of tipsy people. He didn't like parties. Opening his eyes, Blaine stared at the rest of his family, his parents stepping out and looking away from everyone else as if they were so much better than them. He sighed heavily and unstrapped himself, loving his brother enough to do this for him. Following Kurt out of the car, Blaine stuffed his hands in his pockets.

His mom walked a step in front of him, whacking him with her purse, "Stand up straighter, Blaine." Blaine instantly took his hands out of his pockets, pushing his shoulders back just because he wanted them to leave him alone, and they wouldn't until they got their way.

Alicia and Kurt glanced over their shoulders at his mom's harsh tone, and Kurt seemed bothered when his dad yanked him back and hissed in his ear. "You better not be an embarrassment tonight. This is a big deal for your brother. Smile and look like a normal person. If I see you yawn or frown once, I'll kick you out of my house."

"I get it," he snapped, yanking out of his dad's grip. Cooper quickly left Alicia's side and wrapped his arm around Blaine, pushing him away from their dad.

"Blaine's fine. Calm down." Rubbing Blaine's back, even though Blaine didn't want to be touched, Cooper muttered. "Dad, everything's good. I'm just glad he's here." He pulled Blaine up with him and returned to his fiancé's side, and Blaine hesitantly went to Kurt. He felt humiliated, and he didn't like being seen as weak.

Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's, glimpsing back at his parents only once. "Is everything okay?" He whispered, his eyes huge with worry. When Blaine didn't answer him, he asked softly, "Blaine, what's the matter? What did your dad tell you?"

"Nothing that he hasn't said before." Blaine growled, then softened his voice when Kurt flinched. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm just… upset because I don't like parties. You don't have to be around me right now. You can go with Cooper and Alicia."

Shaking his head, Kurt walked a little closer to Blaine, "I don't want to leave you." He assured him, squeaking when someone almost stepped on him. Blaine picked him up off his toes and half carried him over to a quiet table, putting him down on one of the chairs.

Blaine lowered beside of him, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek. His ears still hurt and he had a headache, but it was getting bearable. Feeling soft fingers thread through his hair, Blaine sighed when they started stroking him. "Come a little closer." Kurt whispered, and Blaine scooted his chair against Kurt's. "When I was little and I had a bad day, my mom would always take me on her knee and stroke my hair."

Closing his eyes, Blaine leaned into Kurt. Kurt slid his hands down to Blaine's nape and massaged his neck, and it felt so good. "You're very different from what I thought you would be like when we first met." Kurt told him, and Blaine opened one eye. He wondered what Kurt had seen him as when they met. "Why don't you like parties? I think some can be fun."

Blaine laid his cheek on Kurt's shoulder, getting as close to him as possible. Kurt cupped his face and kept rubbing. "I want to like parties." He muttered, knowing how scary it was to tell someone everything. But he trusted Kurt. "I want to be normal and have fun like everyone else. I don't know what's wrong with me… it's terrifying getting to know others. And I just get bored at parties."

Sympathetically snuggling into Blaine, Kurt tapped his bottom lip, "What makes you happy?" He lifted his head, even though Blaine grunted at him to stay, and he nipped his lip and smiled. "Lots of things make me happy." Suddenly getting distracted by something, Kurt ran his hands up and down Blaine's sides.

Blaine raised his brows, "Honey, what are you doing?" Gasping when Kurt slid his hands to Blaine's thighs and kept searching him, Blaine covered his flushing face, "I—get out of my pocket."

Sticking his tongue out, Kurt patted his chest, "I'm looking for your ticklish spot. I want you to smile."

Helplessly chuckling, Blaine took Kurt's hands and kissed both of his palms, "I promise, I don't have a ticklish spot. My skin is too rough."

"Everyone has a ticklish spot!" Kurt squeaked, returning his hands to Blaine's body. He touched Blaine's arms and stroked the inside of his forearms, and Blaine snorted at the feeling of his soft fingers brushing up and down his hard skin. "I found it!" He patted his fingertips together and tickled the spot again.

Laughing, Blaine pulled Kurt onto his lap. He scratched Kurt's stomach, and Kurt squealed and squirmed to get away. "Blaine!" Kurt giggled, pushing on Blaine's hands. "I'm very ticklish there!"

Blaine leaned down to kiss Kurt's lips, "I know." He muttered and stroked circles around Kurt's belly button. "You kicked me off the bed last night because I kissed your cute, little belly."

"I'm sorry," Kurt teasingly stuck his bottom lip out. "I couldn't stop laughing." Wrapping Blaine in his arms, he murmured, "You look happy now."

Sighing heavily, Blaine pressed his face to the top of Kurt's head. He breathed in the scent of sweet raspberries. "You make me really happy." He held Kurt close and suddenly didn't notice any other person, even though the room was just as loud. It was just Kurt in his arms. "I love you."

Kurt smiled and snuggled deeper, but before he could say it back, Blaine felt himself get ripped off the chair. Knocked aside, Kurt scrambled for balance and he squeaked, reaching out for Blaine. Blaine was dragged away from him, and he whipped around to stare at Kurt. He turned back around and saw his dad, who looked furious. "What the fuck?" He yelled, his mood back to being worse than ever. "Let me go!"

His dad pulled him down an almost empty hallway, "I asked one thing of you!" He shouted, slamming Blaine against a wall. "To not be a fucking embarrassment to this family! And not only did you seclude yourself from everyone, you were kissing on that boy!"

Blaine shoved his dad off, "Stop!"

"Dad, what are you doing?" Blaine heard his brother's harsh voice, and he glared over their dad's thick shoulder at him. Coop reached for their dad and yanked him away from Blaine, putting himself between them. "Leave him alone. He wasn't doing anything wrong."

Blaine watched the rest of his family walk down the hallway, Alicia with her hand on her stomach and his mom right behind her. Kurt poked his nose around the corner a second later, and Blaine looked away, not wanting him to see him like this. "Cooper, don't tell me he has you thinking it's okay to be gay!"

"It's not that big of a deal, Dad!" Cooper shouted. "Dammit, you're the one embarrassing me by freaking out and dragging him across the room." He turned his attention to Blaine, who clamped up and jerked away from him. "Blaine, are you okay?"

He ignored his brother, knowing that he actually did care, but not wanting to say a word because he felt like curling up somewhere and hiding. Tears pressed on the corners of his eyes like heavy weights, but they dripped off his lashes when someone slapped him across his cheek. He heard a tiny squeak from Kurt, and then Alicia murmured something to him. "You want to be silent and act like an asshole to your brother? He asked you a question. Answer him, Blaine. He's the only one who cares about you right now and you want to look away from him?"

"Stop it, Dad!" Cooper pulled Blaine against his chest, and Blaine weakly collapsed against him. He didn't want to lean on him, but he liked feeling the protection of his strong arms. "Don't hit him! Maybe that's why he won't answer us, because you yell at him for everything he says and does."

He was tired of being talked about as if he wasn't in the room. Even though he wanted to stay in Coop's arms, he hated all of the yelling and shouting and pushing. It was giving him a headache. Shoving away from Coop, Blaine ran down the hallway and heard Kurt on his heels.

"Blaine, wait!" Coop yelled, also going after Blaine.

Blaine just wanted quiet. He wanted away. Almost knocking people over to get outside, Blaine burst through the back door. Everyone was inside, giving Blaine the privacy he needed. He turned around and saw Kurt about a foot away from him, his eyes huge and tears streaking his soft cheeks. "I'm sorry I'm not normal." He muttered, and Kurt started to shake his head, but was interrupted by the door swinging open again.

Cooper appeared in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as he panted. "Blaine, you can't just run away from me." Walking outside with them, he held his arms open. When Blaine didn't twitch, his head turned away, Cooper sighed and shoved his fingers into his hair. "I'm sorry. I know you're hurt. I get it… Dad can be an ass." Blaine's jaw hardened and he kept still as Coop hesitantly approached him, still holding his arms out. "I really am sorry, Blaine. You can lean on me if you want. You're my baby brother and I love you." Bending down, Coop kissed Blaine's forehead, and Blaine closed his eyes.

Pulling Blaine into his arms, Cooper rubbed his back until the door opened again. Alicia slid out and folded her arms over her chest, "Blaine, are you okay?"

Blaine lifted his head and looked at Kurt, who was still staring at him with wide eyes. Dropping his head to his brother's chest, Blaine blew out heavily. Cooper stroked his hair again, kissing his forehead. "Blaine… can I tell you something? I think you'll understand. You've been through it."

Swallowing thickly, Blaine pulled off his brother and returned to Kurt, who reached down for his hand. "What?"

Cooper grabbed Alicia around her waist, and he tugged her against him, "Blaine… Alicia is pregnant. It hasn't been long… she's due in June." At Blaine's emotionless face, he realized his brother wasn't going to freak out. He slowly continued, "You know I'll be going to India to shoot that movie, and Alicia's busy with her own career. You're the only person I trust… I won't have our parents raise the baby while I'm away. They couldn't even raise you, and they probably messed up a lot with raising me. Alicia and I were wondering… if you could watch the baby for a while."

Alicia quickly added, "We know it sounds like a lot… you're only eighteen years old to be making a decision like this. But you are very mature and you'll be nineteen by the time the baby gets here. You can tell us no, Blaine… because you will be graduating and you'll probably be looking at jobs or colleges—"

Blaine shook his head, abruptly quieting her. She turned to Coop and whispered something about her aunt being able to watch him in case Blaine couldn't, but Blaine actually wanted to. He didn't see himself at a college or getting a job. His parents would give him money at his graduation. He realized that after Kurt left, he would be completely alone. He thought that raising a baby, who wouldn't judge him and would grow up loving him—since few people did, wouldn't be all that bad.

Nodding his head, he muttered, "I'll watch the baby."

"You will?" Alicia seemed startled by his answer. She realized how she sounded and shook her head, "I'm sorry… you just don't seem like the type to like children."

Blaine didn't say anything about that. He knew how people saw him because of his cold personality, and he wondered sometimes if they were right about him. His jaw tightened and he turned to his brother, who smiled at him. "Thanks, Blaine." He held his arms open again, but Blaine ignored the kind gesture.

"I want to go home." He muttered, walking past them with Kurt bouncing on his heels. He caught his brother's wounded expression, and he didn't like hurting his brother, but Blaine hated that look of absolute adoration and appreciation on his face. When Karofsky asked him to do things—which he did—it was never good enough. He could have done something better. That was what he was used to, so he didn't want his brother to look at him like that, especially when he doubted that it was a good idea to put a helpless, innocent baby in his hands.

He was too damaged for a baby, the same way he was too damaged to stay with Kurt for long. He guessed it was a good thing that Kurt was leaving him, as much as that hurt him.


	15. Fighter

Author's note: This story is giving me whiplash. I cried so much at this chapter. I FINALLY have this story outlined. Because I'm such an angsty type of person, there will be a bunch of angst. It's just the way I write. But if you stick with me through that, I promise to make such a lovey and sweet ending it's almost disgusting. I swear that'll happen in the end. So... stick with me through the angst! My exams are almost over then I have three months of nothing but focusing on this story-seriously, I'm not even taking a vacation this summer until the very end of it. So, a lot more updates a lot quicker. I should start the sequel this summer but I have no idea how long this story will take to write. So... enjoy and review this chapter! I adore reviews almost as much as I adore Kurt Hummel :)

Disclaimer: Guess what, I suddenly own Glee! That's a joke. I just wanted to know what it felt like to say that. I still don't own Glee, and I don't want to go on about how I don't own it because this fact depresses me. So, I'm going to stop talking now.

* * *

People stared. This wasn't unexpected, and Blaine should have been used to the eyeballing and crude whispers, but he wasn't. Pushing into the locker room, he ducked his head and tried to hide from the stares. Not in the mood for fighting with anyone, Blaine snuck past the football players and opened his locker, but his eyes widened as he found that his pads and jerseys were missing and replaced by the spray painted word, _fag,_ on one of the sides. He whipped around, his eyes wide. Across the locker room, Azimio shrugged, "You vacationed with him. A lot of people think you screwed him, too. You've done this to yourself, faggot."

The entire football team walked out of the room, leaving Blaine behind. He heard them yell hateful comments at him, and he heard the whispers and saw them point their fingers, but they had never called him a name to his face. And he _wasn't _a fag. Right?

Something inside of Blaine snapped. He flicked his eyes to the stained word inside his locker again. Releasing a shaky breath, Blaine slammed the locker shut and screamed, dropping to his knees. He covered his head with his arms, stunned at himself for his reaction. He didn't care, though. Not anymore, at least. He'd had it with the names and the mocking stares and the rude snorts as he walked side by side down the hallway with Kurt, their arms linked together. Tears rimmed his eyes in red, a few of them slipping out and rolling down his cheeks. Closing his eyes, he collapsed to the floor and cried harder than he had in years. "I'm not gay…" he moaned to himself. "I'm not gay…"

Holding his stomach, Blaine gasped and heaved, unsure why something he heard every day could have brought him to tears. Maybe he was just grumpy, or maybe it was that every insult that had bruised and shaken him had finally broke him. Whatever the case, he wouldn't let them have this over him. He wouldn't let them see him cry, especially when Kurt needed him to be so strong.

Lifting his head, Blaine fumbled to his feet and zombie-shuffled to Karofsky's locker. He violently opened it and threw Karofsky's books to the floor, knowing that he had a pocket knife somewhere in here. Grabbing the knife when he found it, he flipped it open and strode out of the locker room. He headed toward the parking lot where Azimio and Karofsky were gathered by Azimio's car.

Blaine stormed up to them, and they both frowned. Karofsky dragged his eyes up and down Blaine's body. "What do you want, fag?" He spat, but he cut off his insults when he noticed the blade in Blaine's hand. Backing away when Blaine knelt by Azimio's front tire, Karofsky made a harsh noise. Without a single word, Blaine slashed the knife across the tire. The air exploded out of it.

Getting to his feet, Blaine shoved the knife into Karofsky's hands. He whipped around and prowled back into the school, knowing that he was better than Karofsky and Azimio.

Because he had Kurt, and they didn't.

* * *

Kurt swished down the hallway toward glee club, the one class of the day he was actually very good in—besides French class. Glee club was the one class where he could sing songs he loved, knowing that Blaine's proud eyes were watching him the entire time.

Humming the soft tune of Le Jazz Hot! to himself, Kurt rounded the corner and jumped when Karofsky walked out of the locker room. Startled, Kurt wrapped his arms around himself and pretended that he hadn't seen Karofsky. He heard Karofsky call out his name and he squeaked, picking up his pace. Suddenly, a large hand smacked his back and pushed him into a locker, and Kurt cried out at the pain in his shoulders.

Karofsky narrowed his eyes and glared at him, "Hummel, I was talking to you."

"No," Kurt's lips quivered, and he turned his face away from Karofsky's when he got very close. A scream for help started to fall off his tongue, but it caught on the tip of his tongue. He twisted in Karofsky's hands. "No, l-let me go. Please, Karofsky!"

Karofsky tightened his grip, and Kurt's shoulder ached. He squeaked and writhed. "Your boyfriend—" he pulled out a knife and waved it by the tip of Kurt's nose, and Kurt shrank away from it, "used this to bust Azimio's tire."

Kurt squirmed when Karofsky pressed closer. Crushed between a hard wall and a huge, threatening body, he gasped and pressed himself against the wall. "Let me go, Karofsky!"

Karofsky slapped his hand across Kurt's cheek, and Kurt's mouth fell open as his cheek started to sting. "Shut up, Hummel! After school, meet me in the locker room. I want a blow job or I'll fucking kill you—"

"Hey!" Screamed another voice, and a startled Karofsky jumped away from Kurt, who instantly held his hand to his throbbing cheek. Feeling wetness on his hand, Kurt panted at the sight of the blood dripping from a cut. Suddenly, Finn grabbed Kurt's wrist and yanked him away from Karofsky, "Keep off of him, Karofsky! Unless you want someone to find out about this, get out of here!"

Trembling, Kurt slumped against Finn, who wrapped an arm around his waist. Finn waited until Karofsky slammed his fist into a locker with a frustrated noise and tore down the hallway, then he peeled Kurt off of him so he could look at his bloody cheek. "Does it hurt? Come on, let me get you to glee club. Schuester will get you some ice. It doesn't look as bad under the blood."

Kurt nodded, holding onto Finn. "Thank you. I was so frightened. I'm glad you were there."

"You're welcome. Karofsky's just an asshole." Finn said, "I think Blaine's already in glee club. He'll freak out when he sees you—"

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers. The last thing he wanted was for Blaine to hunt Karofsky down and get into another fight. "Please don't tell him Karofsky did this, Finn." He pleaded, wincing at the sharp pain in his cheek when he opened his mouth.

"Kurt, you've got to tell him," Finn demanded. "Karofsky told you to give him a _blow job_. If you won't let me tell Blaine, I'll tell Figgins. And then your dad will get involved and he's too sick to be stressed out right now. Blaine can shut Karofsky up pretty fast."

Stopping in front of the choir room, Kurt whispered, "Finn, I don't want Blaine fighting anymore. And my dad can't know… please… it'll hurt him."

Finn only shook his head with a sigh, opening the door for Kurt. Blaine was sitting in the corner, away from the rest of the group. At the interruption, his dull, golden eyes flicked to Kurt. He instantly lunged out of his chair, taking a startled Kurt in his arms. "Kurt," his fingers touched Kurt's cheek. He looked devastated. "Kurt, baby what happened? Are you okay?" Pressing gentle kisses to the sore spot, Blaine pulled Kurt close. He glared at Finn over the top of Kurt's dark blond head, "_What happened?_"

At the disruption, Schuester poked his head out of the office and his eyes widened, "Kurt. Oh, my gosh. What happened? Are you alright?"

While Blaine obsessively stroked his fingers over Kurt's bloody cheek, Kurt tried to soothe him, "Blaine, please, I just tripped—"

Blaine's wild eyes narrowed, then he roared, "Someone hurt you! Tell me what happened! I want to protect you."

Kurt squeaked, trying to keep Blaine calm, especially when in temper, "No one hurt me, Blaine."

Finn abruptly blurted, "It was Karofsky, Blaine. He slapped him." Blaine whipped around to face Finn, who reluctantly followed up with, "And he had a knife. I heard him threaten to kill Kurt… unless Kurt gave him a blow job."

Blaine staggered and almost collapsed had it not been for Kurt's arms around him. Tears spilled from Kurt's eyes, "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I just didn't want you to fight him. I was so afraid you'd get hurt. Please, hold me."

After a moment of fighting with himself, Blaine tugged Kurt into his arms. Schuester quietly muttered, "Kurt, why don't you go on home for today? I'll call your dad and let him know what's going on. Blaine… you should probably stay with him. He'll need you. I'll let your teachers know you'll be out of class."

Blaine said nothing and took Kurt out of the room, aware that he'd just admitted to a room full of people who thought he was a homophobe how much he and Kurt loved each other.

But Blaine didn't—or shouldn't—love anyone. Especially not a gay boy.

* * *

Blaine walked into Kurt's house, pushing through the door and hearing the TV, some mumbling about a football game or something. Running his fingers through his hair, Blaine glanced in the living room at Burt, who was staring at the screen. "Burt?" He muttered, and Burt looked up at him. He seemed exhausted by something, dark circles under his eyes. "Can I talk to Kurt?"

Burt gestured at the basement, "Have at it." Turning back to the TV, he put his chin on his fist. "You know, your school called me today. Told me about some bullying going on with Kurt… but that they suspended the guy who hurt him. I don't have the money to put Kurt in some fancy private school that has a zero-tolerance policy on bullying… not that even a school like that would be able to completely stop it. Can I ask you to do something for me?"

Pressing his lips together, Blaine closed the door behind him and muttered, "What?"

Burt looked back at Blaine, then at the closed door to his son's bedroom. "I want you to keep my son safe. Kurt can't stick up for himself… so you'll have to. Your friends are in on it, aren't they? Bullying him because he's gay?"

Blaine shook his head, "No… I don't want them around me anymore."

Rubbing his forehead, he said, "You stopped hanging around them because of Kurt, didn't you?" He sighed heavily, "Sometimes it's hard… with him being gay. I don't know you… I don't know anything about you. But… I know you're taking care of him. Probably taking black eyes for him. And I'm glad you're here."

Blaine swallowed thickly, folding his arms over his chest. Turning to Kurt's bedroom, Blaine walked over to it and pushed on the door. He headed downstairs and found Kurt in the middle of his bed, laying on his side with his phone by his nose. "Hey, honey." He whispered, and Kurt's big eyes lifted to his face. "How do you feel? Do you want me here?"

Kurt curled his toes, reaching out for Blaine. Blaine approached the bed and climbed next to Kurt, laying down beside of him. "I feel better." He closed his eyes when Blaine touched his shoulders and rubbed. "I was so scared. I couldn't stop trembling. It's good that Finn was there to protect me."

"I should have been," Blaine whispered, nuzzling Kurt's cheek. "I promised that I would keep you safe… and I wasn't there. I won't ever let you get hurt again." Wrapping his arms around Kurt, he kissed his raw cheek. Kurt whimpered, making Blaine smile, "Does that feel good?"

Kurt helplessly nodded, "Your lips are very warm."

Blaine kissed the sore spot again, pulling Kurt's leg around his waist. His brows furrowed when Kurt's phone buzzed, "Who is that?"

"Oh…" Kurt glanced at his phone and turned it off, "that's just Rachel. I'm sorry. She was asking me about her homecoming dress." After he set his phone aside, he wriggled closer to Blaine and whispered, "Blaine, what is homecoming? Is that like a party?"

Shrugging, Blaine patted Kurt's bottom, "Sort of. It's like a school dance."

"Did someone ask you to go with them?" Kurt peeped, lifting his head and looking at Blaine. When Blaine shook his head and bit his bottom lip, Kurt blushed and lowered his eyes to Blaine's chest. He stroked the hard skin through his thin shirt, "I would go with you if you asked me."

Despite Blaine's hatred of school dances, where everyone got tipsy from the spiked punch and made out, he thought he'd like taking Kurt as his date. Smiling against Kurt's hair, he whispered, "You want me to ask you?"

Kurt giggled, "Yes. I like being romanced."

Kissing Kurt on his sweet lips, Blaine nuzzled a little closer, "Can I take you to homecoming?"

Blushing, Kurt rolled on top of Blaine and grinned at him. "I'd love that, Blaine." He parted his lips for a kiss, and Blaine pressed their mouths.


	16. Taking Chances

Author's note: I've been rewriting a lot more than I thought I would so I'm really sorry, guys! It's been exhausting so I've been taking longer than I thought and ugh. I combined three chapters into one and took out stuff I didn't like so yeah. I hope my sequel will be up really soon!

* * *

Blaine walked out of the school with his hands in his pockets, his head low and his shoulders slumped. Prancing a few feet ahead of him with Rachel at his side, Kurt chattered on and on about how he was so excited for Sectionals. He was bundled in a white pea coat and a white, faux, fur hat that made him stand out. Blaine thought he looked adorable. Approaching the bus with everyone else, Blaine watched a few of the guys pile on and swarm the front seats around Schuester. He followed the girls and Kurt onto the bus, feeling the guys' eyes on him as he passed.

Tucking a piece of hair behind his ear, Blaine saw Rachel and Mercedes sit down beside of each other, and Kurt sat down in a seat by himself in a row right behind them. The girls immediately turned to Kurt and started talking to him, but Kurt kept his eyes on Blaine. He patted the spot beside of him, "Blaine."

The girls lifted their heads and rolled their eyes at Blaine, which made him very uncomfortable. "Why is he even here?" He heard Rachel whisper, and he quickly turned away from them. Hurrying down the aisle as if he hadn't even noticed Kurt offer him a seat, Blaine slid into a seat near the back of the bus. He pinned himself against the window, shuddering with anxiety. He didn't know how he'd handle spending the next day with the entire glee club.

Kurt poked his nose into the aisle and stared at Blaine, so Blaine hid himself from his line of sight. Before he could make a move, Schuester stood up and started taking names. Schuester sat back down and the bus pulled out of the parking lot, and Blaine heard the guys start talking about something he didn't care about.

Pulling his bag onto his lap, Blaine looked through it and found a few of Kurt's things, including his iPod. He pulled it out and stuck a headphone in his ear, not wanting to hear the people who hated him. But even over the music, he made out the girls' voices, each of them talking about the dance routine. He didn't hear Kurt's voice, and he wondered if he was taking a nap. Looking at Kurt, he saw him at the edge of his seat, still staring at Blaine.

Kurt blinked at him, then said something to the girls. They immediately turned to Blaine with furrowed brows, but didn't stop Kurt when he got up. He walked back to Blaine's seat and sat down next to him, his eyes huge with worry, "What's the matter? I wanted you to sit by me."

"I'm sorry." He pressed himself against the window again, taking out the headphone. Kurt followed him, curling against his side. "I didn't want to be near the girls. I know they don't like me." Wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist, he whispered, "You can go up there and talk to them."

Kurt tugged on his arm, "Will you come with me? I won't leave you back here by yourself. You look so lonely." When Blaine looked at the girls again and shook his head, Kurt whispered, "I'll stay back here if you want me to, but I want you to have fun. Do you want to hold my hand?"

Sliding his fingers through Kurt's, Blaine held onto him tightly as he got back up. "Kurt—" Kurt wiggled out of the seat, and Blaine got up with him. Following Kurt over to his seat, he heard the girls suddenly get very quiet when he sat down by him, huddling into his side.

He avoided looking at them for several seconds, resting on Kurt. Kurt, realizing that none of them were going to speak, stroked Blaine's hair and said, "Does anyone have pictures of our costumes?"

It took a moment for any of the girls to reply, but Rachel finally muttered, "Fine, let's just ignore this problem." Blaine's head snapped up and he found Rachel staring at him, but her eyes flickered to Kurt. "No, we don't have any pictures. The costumes are already at the auditorium."

Kurt didn't answer her, and Blaine turned around to face him. His mouth was slightly parted and his eyes were wide, "Rachel, what you said to Blaine was very mean. Please say you're sorry."

"No!" Rachel folded her arms over her chest, pointing her nose at the ceiling. "I won't apologize to him! He is a problem, Kurt! I warned you about him but you're still with him, anyway! He's a bully and he's going to mess up our performance. Do you want us to lose? You know, sometimes I think it'd be better if you'd never come from Paris, that way I wouldn't have to deal with _him!_" Rachel pointed her finger at Blaine, who growled because she insulted Kurt.

Before he could lash out at her, Schuester got up and glared at her over the tops of the seats, "Rachel, calm down! I can hear you yelling all the way up here. Blaine, you know you're going to cause trouble by getting near them, so put some distance between you and them, okay?" He sat back down, and the girls looked away from him in rejection, Mercedes trying to bring up a topic about shoes.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Blaine realized that everyone's eyes were on him, a few of the guys halfway standing up from their seats to get a look at him. He covered his red face with his hand and slipped out of his seat, going to the one farther back. "Blaine," Kurt begged, scurrying after him. He huddled into Blaine's side after he sat down. "Blaine, I'm so sorry."

Blaine didn't want anyone to see him cry but the tears kept streaking his face. Kurt held onto him and kissed his tears. He realized that everyone hated him, and he was starting to regret all of those stupid mistakes he'd made.

* * *

About an hour later, the bus pulled up in front of a hotel and stopped, and the guys sluggishly poured out of it. Lifting his head from Kurt's shoulder and yawning, Blaine swung his bag over his shoulder and rubbed Kurt's back. Kurt, who had fallen asleep on him a few minutes before Blaine had gone to sleep, sleepily blinked and mewled.

He stood up and lifted Kurt, holding him against his chest. Half carrying him off the bus, Blaine waited about a foot away from the rest of the yawning guys for Schuester to give them room keys. Brushing Kurt's hair off his face, Blaine kissed his forehead, "Just a few more minutes. You can go back to sleep." He lifted his head and found Santana staring at him, but she glanced away when he caught her eye.

Schuester got off the bus and gave Finn a key, and the guys headed inside. Following them, Blaine walked around Rachel, who rolled her eyes at him and took a step away as if he was poisoned. He sighed heavily and walked upstairs with the guys, and they each took turns at the bathroom to change into pajamas. Blaine took Kurt in with him and stripped him of his clothes, pulling a thin nightgown over his head. After Finn found their room, they immediately picked their beds, and Blaine chose a bunk bed in the corner.

Blaine carried Kurt over to it and laid him down on the bottom, covering him in blankets. Climbing in beside of Kurt, Blaine rolled over so he was facing away from the guys. He didn't want to see the disgusted looks on their faces that he was sleeping with Kurt. Hearing quiet out of them, Blaine briefly glanced over his shoulder and saw a few of the guys eyeing him, whispering to each other and smirking.

Beside of him, Kurt sighed and snuggled into his chest, so Blaine returned his attention to him. Rubbing Kurt's back, Blaine burrowed as deeply into the pillow as he could. He didn't want to be seen.

"Did you see him freak out on the bus?" He heard one of the guys, maybe Mike, whisper to the others. "I've heard that he has issues."

Artie started laughing, "I think everyone can see that… except Kurt. Do you think he knows how awful Blaine is?"

Blaine could feel his cheeks get hot, his eyes filling with tears. Clinging to Kurt, he listened to them make fun of him for a few minutes until he couldn't take it anymore. Suddenly jerking out of the bed, Blaine heard them get absolutely silent, all of them pressing themselves to their beds as if to fake sleeping. He laid Kurt down on the pillows and almost ran out of the room, tears rolling down his cheeks.

* * *

Kurt woke up to the feeling of movement, his blue eyes opening on a dark room. A few of the guys were still mumbling, so he thought that he hadn't been sleeping long. Feeling around for Blaine, Kurt frowned when he didn't find him and he lifted his head. "I didn't know he was still awake." One of the guys coughed.

"Do you think someone should go chase him down?" Someone, maybe Artie, suggested.

Scooting off of his bed, Kurt got the attention of a few of the guys. Finn, who was in the bunk next to him, muttered, "Hey, Kurt. What are you doing up?"

"Where is Blaine?" He murmured, lifting on his toes to check all of the top bunks.

The guys glanced at each other, and Puck muttered, "We don't know. He just left. Do you want us to walk you around and help you find him?"

Kneeling by his suitcase, Kurt pulled out a robe and bundled himself in it, "No, thank you." Blaine wouldn't have just left, so Kurt wondered if something had upset him. Leaving the guys, Kurt opened the door and stepped into the empty hallway. He took an elevator down to the lobby because there were only rooms above that. After a few seconds, it dinged and the doors slid open, and Kurt stepped off of it.

He saw a gift shop off to the side and a café and bathroom on the other side of the room, and at first he started heading for the bathroom, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of someone inside the café. Looking inside, Kurt saw Blaine sitting by himself, his unblinking eyes staring at his lap, his hair hanging in his face. He looked so upset.

Walking into the café, Kurt sniffed the warm coffees and his belly gurgled. He ignored his hunger and approached Blaine, sitting down in the chair across from him. "Why did you go?"

Blaine finally lifted his swollen eyes, "You shouldn't have gotten out of bed." was the only thing he said, and he returned his eyes to his lap. Putting his elbows on the table, Blaine covered his face with his arms and dug his fingers into his hair.

Kurt reached for his hands and put his on top of Blaine's. "Don't pull so much." When Blaine loosened his grip on his curls, Kurt slid his hands underneath Blaine's and tugged them away from his head. Smoothing Blaine's heavy hair off his face, Kurt leaned across the table and kissed his forehead.

Blaine opened his eyes and stared at Kurt, then he glanced down at the coffee in front of him. "Are you thirsty?" He nudged the drink toward Kurt, and Kurt happily took it and sipped it. "We have a competition tomorrow. You should be asleep."

Kurt kept drinking until he was full, then he gave the drink back to Blaine. "Shouldn't you?" He whispered, sliding his fingers through Blaine's. "You have a competition tomorrow, too."

"It doesn't matter if I sleep or not." He reached for his drink and swigged it, then he put it aside when it was empty. "Everyone thinks I'm going to screw this up, anyway."

"I don't." Kurt peeped, squeezing Blaine's hand. He smiled at him, and Blaine looked startled by his trust in him. "I think you'll be wonderful. They just…" he turned around and stared at the elevator, knowing the glee club was just a few floors above them, "don't understand how nice you are. I thought they would give you a chance on the bus… and I'm so sorry that they hurt you."

"It's not your fault." Blaine's jaw hardened. "I had it coming. I've done some stupid things to all of them."

Kurt sighed and stroked Blaine's jaw, "I know you're sorry… so you didn't deserve that."

Leaning into Kurt's soft hand, Blaine turned his head and kissed his palm. "Let me get you up to bed." He stood up and held his hand out for Kurt, but Kurt hesitated.

"Will you stay?" He whispered, sliding his fingers through Blaine's. Snuggling into Blaine's side, he waited for him to answer, but he didn't. "Blaine… tell me you'll stay. I can't sleep without you."

Blaine finally shook his head, rubbing his face with his free hand. "No. I'm not going back to the room. I might buy my own room with my brother's money." Putting his hand at Kurt's waist, he muttered, "You can come with me… stay with me… you know, if you want."

Kurt nodded, happily following Blaine up to the desk. After Blaine ordered a room a few floors above where the glee club was staying, they got on an elevator and took it up. Blaine was quiet the entire time, resting against the side of the elevator, his dark eyes on the floor. Once the elevator doors slid open, Kurt popped out and hopped over to their room, waiting for Blaine to put the card in.

They walked inside, and Kurt saw that it had a dresser with a TV on it and one bed. Instantly scurrying over to the bed, Kurt slipped off his robe and wiggled under the blankets. "I'm so cozy." He chirped, watching Blaine take off his shirt. Blaine pushed his pants down but stayed in his boxers, getting in the bed beside of Kurt.

Kurt cuddled into his side, his fingertips tracing patterns on Blaine's hard chest. "Are you happy to be here?" He whispered and looked up at Blaine's emotionless face.

Blaine's jaw tightened, then he relaxed and bent to kiss the top of Kurt's head. "Yeah." Rolling onto his back, Blaine pulled Kurt on top of him. Kurt slid his leg between Blaine's, putting his arms on his strong shoulders. "I'm happy to be with you."

Tilting his head, Kurt whispered, "I like making you happy." He parted his lips, and Blaine realized what Kurt wanted and closed the distance between them. Moaning at the warmth of Blaine's mouth, he grabbed Blaine's hair and tugged him off the pillow, bringing him even closer.

"Oh, baby…" Blaine grunted and rubbed Kurt's bottom, his fingers slipping up his nightgown. They deepened the kiss with the turn of their heads, their noses bumping and eyelashes brushing. Sliding his tongue into Kurt's mouth, Blaine twisted the bottom of Kurt's nightgown in his hand and pulled up. Kurt let him peel it off his pink skin, leaving him in a pair of panties.

He scrunched those in his fist and tugged. Whimpering, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's huge shoulders, feeling his panties get lower and lower on his legs until they fell off. He touched Blaine's stomach and scratched his nails down to Blaine's boxers, but he was too nervous to touch them. "Blaine… please…"

Without taking his lips from Kurt's, Blaine ripped his boxers off and threw them aside. Both of them were completely naked, their cocks and legs tangled. Groaning, Blaine thrust his hips at Kurt's, and Kurt cried out. "Oh, Blaine… I can't take much more…"

"I want to feel you inside of me." Blaine groaned, startling Kurt. "I want to feel what I do to you." Spreading his knees, Blaine arched, making their cocks slide against each other. Kurt mewled at the warm pleasure.

"B-Blaine, I don't want you to be upset." Kurt pleaded, shivering as Blaine rubbed against him again. "Oh, Blaine… this feels so good."

Pressing their mouths, Blaine twisted his lips and moaned, "I can't regret you. I just want you inside of me." He suddenly lifted his head and stared down at Kurt's flushed face. "Are you uncomfortable? We don't have to do it like this… it's just… I'm aching for you."

Crying out again, Kurt turned his head and gasped into the pillow. "Oh, Blaine… I'm just so scared that you won't like it—" He mumbled when Blaine spread his knees, making Kurt fall between his legs. "Oh!"

Blaine wrapped his hand around his cock, making Kurt tremble, and he pushed it up against his puckered hole. He was very red between his ass cheeks, and he was so tight. Pressing Kurt's tip inside, Blaine threw his head back and snarled. Kurt gasped and pressed his fingertips to his lips, "Are you okay?"

Growling, Blaine lifted his head and kissed Kurt very firmly, his hands sliding into Kurt's soft hair. The kiss was frantic and needy, and Kurt got very dizzy. Laying down on top of Blaine, Kurt pressed another inch inside, and Blaine almost roared. Tearing his lips off of Kurt's, Blaine buried his face in his neck and sucked the soft skin. "Oh, Blaine!" Kurt squealed, feeling Blaine press down on his bottom. Pushing deep into Blaine, Kurt cried out as the warm, tight heat squeezed him. "Blaine!"

The bed violently shook with Blaine's thrashing, and when Kurt wiggled a little deeper and touched his prostate, Blaine yelled and arched at the ceiling. "Kurt!" Poking Blaine's prostate again, Kurt cried out at the hard sensations. He was a wreck, his body trembling and pressed to Blaine's.

He came inside of Blaine, something that was very unusual but very pleasurable for him. Feeling Kurt's come filling him, Blaine shouted, "Kurt!" He came and it never seemed to stop gushing out of him, spraying his and Kurt's stomachs. Kurt moaned when the warm liquid painted his pale skin. After Blaine got control of himself again, he collapsed to the pillows and tried to breathe. Stroking Kurt's stomach, Blaine felt his warm come running over his finger.

Kurt opened his mouth, so Blaine let him lick it off. "Mm…" he moaned, "you taste so good." Sliding his fingers down Blaine's thigh, Kurt held his hand up for Blaine to lick.

"Sweet." He muttered, his voice deep and broken. "Like sugar." Rolling over so he was on top, Blaine kissed Kurt again and tasted his salty flavor. It was so hot on Kurt's tongue.

"Do you like tasting yourself?" Kurt giggled, looping his arms around Blaine's neck. After a few seconds of staring at Blaine's dazed, grinning face, he kissed him again, "Thank you… that was wonderful. Did you like it?"

Blaine couldn't stop kissing Kurt, "I loved it. I love you." Dropping kisses to everywhere he saw Kurt's skin, he groaned, "I love everything about you. I love having you naked." Smiling down at Kurt, Blaine moved off of Kurt and laid down on his side. Putting his hand on Kurt's naked hip, he gently rubbed the skin and made it pink. "You're so beautiful."

Blushing, Kurt rested against Blaine's chest, "Blaine?" When Blaine looked down at him, he sighed and whispered, "Can I ask you something? I've been wondering… what you think about us."

Blaine raised his brows, smoothing Kurt's hair, "You mean… what we are?" Kurt nodded, so Blaine thickly swallowed and turned his head. "I like this, Kurt. I like what we have." Looking back at Kurt's small face, he stroked his cheeks, "Tell me what you want."

Kurt blinked and pressed his face to Blaine's chest, not wanting him to see his flushed face, "I do love you, Blaine. Very much. I'm happy with being your best friend… I love being so close to you, that I can tell you anything. I do want to hold your hand in front of my friends, and kiss you in the hallway, but I just like being with you." Lifting his head, he kissed Blaine again, and Blaine rubbed the tip of his nose with his own. "I don't want anything to change… because I am so happy just having you. I just want to know how you feel… with being straight."

Pressing his face to Kurt's neck, Blaine sighed, "I feel so attracted to you… I want you. I like holding you in my arms and feeling your lips on mine. I've never felt like this with a girl. If you want…" he paused and took a deep breath, "you can call me your boyfriend. I'll be your boyfriend. Can we just… keep it quiet for now? I'm terrified of…" He didn't know what exactly he was terrified of, but he knew what to expect if anyone ever found out about what they did when they were alone.

"Be my boyfriend?" Kurt squeaked, a small smile curving his lips. "I'd like that very much." Covering his mouth to quiet a giggle, Kurt shook his head, "I won't tell anyone. I'm good at keeping secrets."

Tightening his arms around Kurt, Blaine nibbled his ear, so happy that Kurt wanted this… wanted him. "I love you."

Smiling, Kurt parted his lips and sighed at Blaine's warm kiss. "I love you, too."


	17. Defying Gravity

Author's note: This was the hardest chapter to edit :( I hated that entire scene with Rachel at the beginning so I took that out and yeah... I really want to start my sequel soon and I'm sorry about the wait! My beginning chapters just really bother me and I'm redoing a lot of them :(

* * *

Blaine pushed through the dressing room door and saw Kurt at a little vanity, swiping lip gloss on his red lips. One corner of his mouth curved and he walked over to Kurt, who spotted him in his mirror and gasped with pleasure. "You look beautiful," Blaine muttered, kissing Kurt's cheek.

Kurt cooed and blushed, "And you're very handsome." Pinching his cheeks to make them rosy, he got to his feet and pressed himself to Blaine's chest. Tugging Blaine's bowtie to tighten it, he rubbed Blaine's chest, "Thank you for last night. It was excellent."

Smirking, Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist and led him into the hallway, where the ten minute lights were flashing. "I'm happy to pleasure you." He stopped Kurt outside the door, seeing the rest of the glee club at the other end of the hallway. "I want to give you something. You can wear it in your hair." When Kurt nipped his bottom lip and grinned, he reached in his jacket for a little rose.

"Oh, Blaine!" Kurt squeaked, happily taking the pretty flower. He sniffed it and closed his eyes at the sweet fragrance. "It's so pretty! Thank you so much." Kissing Blaine's cheek, he let him take the flower back.

Blaine gently slipped the flower into Kurt's dark blond hair, the petals brushing his pale forehead. Giggling, Kurt pinched one of the petals that were tickling him. "You're the best boyfriend ever." He whispered and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, pecking Blaine's stubbly jaw.

Blaine was startled by the label Kurt had for him, but when he tugged from Blaine's arms when the lights blinked again and pulled him by his hand, he realized he was happy.

* * *

Kurt hopped up to the curtain with Blaine on his heels, poking his nose out at the small audience in the rows of seats. Blaine looked with him, and his hand tightened on the back of Kurt's dress. Peeking over his shoulder, Kurt saw how pale Blaine looked, his lips parted and eyes wide, so he rubbed his chest. "Blaine, you'll be perfect." He whispered and kissed the corner of Blaine's mouth.

Blaine flicked his eyes to Kurt, and he slid his hand down to his waist. Following Kurt onto the stage when he pulled him, Blaine glanced at the audience and heard them clap, but he couldn't see their faces through the darkness. Swallowing thickly, he stayed on Kurt's heels and closed his eyes when the music belted out of the speakers.

Sliding his fingers through Blaine's, Kurt prettily smiled at the audience and sang the first word, humming into the second. Kurt danced across the stage with Blaine on his heels like a loyal puppy, his voice so beautiful that it almost distracted Blaine from missing his cue. He opened his mouth and made a noise, pausing when Kurt twirled in a circle around his body.

Wrapping his fingers around Kurt's twitching hips, Blaine took Kurt's knee in his hand when he lifted it to his chest. Kurt wrapped his leg around Blaine's hips, pointing his toes at the ceiling. Giggling, Kurt hummed the soft tune and let Blaine dip him, squealing when his hair almost brushed the floor.

Chirping the last two stanzas, Kurt spun into Blaine's arms where he curtsied, then bounced off the stage. Abandoned, Blaine froze as he realized he just performed that entire song with Kurt and sounded very good. Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers as the audience's faces lit up and they stood and clapped, some whistling.

The second the applause faded to silence and the lights dimmed once more, Blaine held out his hand for Kurt, who shimmied out from behind the curtains. Kurt put his hand in Blaine's and smiled at him, humming the first stanza of Defying Gravity. He matched Kurt's tempo as best he could, whirling behind Kurt and taking him by the hips. Kurt swayed side to side, bending at the knees while Blaine lifted him into the air. Kurt parted his legs and wrapped them around Blaine's thighs. Kurt shrieked the final few notes and Blaine followed his lead, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as he nearly ripped his throat in half with his finale.

Breath taken, Blaine caught Kurt in his arms and watched him smile at the audience, then his blue eyes lifted to Blaine's. "You were wonderful!" He squeaked, giggling when the audience erupted.

Blaine held onto him and looked at how happy he was on stage, his cheeks and eyes glowing, and part of him—just something selfish—was bothered that Kurt was going to leave him for this. His happiness wouldn't be Blaine.

Blaine walked backstage with Kurt at his arm, bouncing beside of him and humming a soft tune. The glee club was celebrating how good they did, slapping each other on their backs and noisily laughing. Kurt seemed interested in what they were doing, but he stayed by Blaine, which Blaine was relieved for. Sitting down on one of the chairs away from everyone else, he pulled Kurt onto his lap and stroked his hair. Kurt, wiggling, tucked his head under Blaine's chin, "I'm so happy I was on stage again. It was even better that you were there with me!"

Swallowing thickly, Blaine stared at the glee club, most of them gathered around Finn and Rachel. They were all screaming and shouting, clapping each other on their backs and chests. He looked back down at Kurt, who was gazing up at him. "What if my voice wasn't strong enough?" He muttered lowly, "What if we lose?"

Kurt whispered, "Blaine, I'm just happy you were on stage with me. I would even be okay with a loss… not that we will lose. You were too amazing for that. The performing is what I love." After he kissed Blaine's cheek to soothe him, he turned around to face Finn, who was hesitantly approaching them.

Finn held up a cooler, his eyes not moving from Kurt, "Hey, guys. Good job out there. Are you thirsty? We have water… and juice… and I think a few pops are left—" Looking down at the cooler, Finn moved aside a few of the water bottles to find the pops.

"Mm…" Kurt took a juice box from the top and sipped on the straw, "yummy."

Keeping his hands on Kurt, Blaine pretended like he didn't even notice Finn. He had spoken to two people, but Blaine still felt like he wasn't one of them. Finn obviously got uncomfortable because he rubbed his nape and muttered, "You can have one, too, Blaine. Do you want a coke? It's your favorite pop."

Blaine held his hand out when Finn offered him a coke, and he swigged it to show Finn his appreciation. Before he could finish the syrupy drink, Schuester waved them onto the stage again. Blowing out heavily, Blaine put his drink aside and watched Kurt pop up. He chattered on and on to Finn about how much fun he had, and Finn grinned at him and rubbed his arm.

"You did great, Kurt. I like your voice." Finn turned back to Blaine and stared at his emotionless face, clearing his throat several times. "Thanks for not screwing us up. What you did was really cool."

Blaine rolled his eyes. He was tired of people labeling him as the bad guy, when he had no intentions of upsetting Kurt, but he knew he deserved it. Getting to his feet, he shoved past Finn and wrapped his arm around Kurt. He ignored everyone else as he walked back onstage, Kurt clinging to his arm and hopping beside of him.

Lining up in the middle of the room with the rest of the glee club, Blaine kept his hand on Kurt's waist, feeling him shiver with nervousness. Kurt held onto Blaine tightly, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted.

One of the judges stood up and held up his hand for silence, and he looked at a card in his palm. "Thanks to everyone for performing. We had some great performances this year. Third place goes to Jane Addams Academy. And second place is Vocal Adrenaline… which means New Directions takes first place."

Kurt squeaked and bounced, tossing himself at Blaine and wrapping his arms around him. "Blaine, we won! I'm so happy! You were amazing!" Lifting his head, Kurt touched his mouth to Blaine's, which startled Blaine. But, in the chaos, no one seemed to notice.

Blaine felt someone clap him on the back, so he hissed and whipped around, but then he saw Finn grinning at him. "We're first place, dude. Smile a little." Finn walked away from him when Puck yanked him by his wrist, leaving Blaine with Kurt. Kurt was still purring in his arms, happily celebrating being on stage again.

Staring out at the clapping audience, Blaine realized this was really what Kurt wanted. It wasn't him, which hurt him.


	18. Ben

Author's note: Here's my edited version of this chapter. I don't really know what else to say... so I hope you guys like this one better :)

* * *

Blaine wanted to be anywhere else except in his small, cramped desk in the last row of the English room. Normally, Blaine didn't mind English. At the beginning of the year he'd chosen seats away from Kurt, always in the back of the class while Kurt preferred to sit with some of the glee club kids near the middle of the room, but now everyone knew that Kurt and Blaine always sat by each other no matter what. If anyone dared to sit next to Kurt—in Blaine's chair—Blaine fixed it pretty damn fast. In English, Lumbly moved them around by rows, so Blaine didn't have the threat of being separated from Kurt, but that also meant having Karofsky wedged up his ass the entire year. So, as they moved around in English, Kurt chose the row behind Mike, Tina, and Artie, and in front of Finn, Puck, and Sam.

At the beginning of the year Blaine probably would have acted the same way that Karofsky had when Kurt chose the new seats, by throwing a fit and hitting the desk, but this was now. And now Blaine couldn't exactly complain. Ever since he won them Sectionals, the glee club kids had warmed up to him, but the only one who really bothered with Blaine was Finn. Blaine didn't like him trying to get close, but he treated Kurt right, so Blaine didn't complain.

Today, though, Blaine had a lot to complain about.

Trapped in the seat that blocked Karofsky from reaching where Kurt usually sat, Blaine slumped over and slid his phone out of his pocket, checking for any messages or calls from Kurt. Rachel had wanted to talk to Kurt about something, and the two had gone shopping to accessorize their dresses.

Not having Kurt with him bothered him that he couldn't gaze at his pretty, blue eyes. He had absolutely no idea what to do with his right hand since he was always holding Kurt's during class so he stuck it in his pocket instead. He was forced to finally notice that Karofsky was _right beside him_ and he had to restrain himself from hurting him.

To his relief, his phone buzzed with a message, so he clicked on it and read Kurt's excitement, _Rachel found Louis Vuitton gloves! We're going to Chanel but I should be back in time to go out to lunch with you. Love you!_

Blaine smirked at Kurt's enthusiasm, replying to him when something kicked the back of his chair. He twisted around and hissed, then calmed down when he saw Finn staring at his phone. "Dude," he hissed, "if that's Kurt tell him to ask Rachel if she wants to do pictures at her house or mine. I forgot my phone at home."

Blaine started to nod, typing in what Finn wanted him to say, but was interrupted by Karofsky coughing beside of him. "Faggot." He barked, and Blaine's head snapped up. He was alarmed that Karofsky was even bothering with him anymore, but he wasn't as shocked by the rude insult. Karofsky looked at Blaine and frowned, cocking his head, "Does that hurt… cocksucker?" He stuck his tongue in his cheek, then turned away with a snort.

Blaine was startled by how much that still bothered him, and he jabbed his tongue at the inside of his cheek. "I'm not a fag—" he argued, but Finn put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Don't." Finn warned, his narrow eyes on Karofsky, who was looking at them again. "He just wants to upset you. Back off him, Karofsky. Damn." He tightened his hand on Blaine's shoulder, and even though his hard grip hurt, Blaine felt somehow safe with him. It was something he wasn't used to feeling. He leaned back into Finn, which made the corners of Karofsky's mouth turn up in a horrid sneer.

"What the fuck is this?" Karofsky cackled, making a few people around them glance at them. "I knew you were banging Hummel, but Hudson, too? I didn't know you had it in you. Who's a better kisser? I bet it's Hummel with his lady lips."

Finn's brows furrowed, "What?" Shaking his head, Finn pulled Blaine to the edge of his seat, away from Karofsky. "Stop it, Karofsky. Blaine's not like you anymore."

Blaine flicked his eyes to Finn, wondering what he meant by that, but before he could tell him that he wasn't like him, either, Karofsky reached over and grabbed his arm. "Queer. You can't even stand up for yourself. Or can you not talk because you strained your throat on Hummel's cock?" Holding his fist up to his mouth, Karofsky grinned at him.

Finn suddenly took his hand off of Blaine and slapped Karofsky's hand, taking it off Blaine's arm. "I said back off! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Karofsky's face turned bright red and he raised his fist at Finn, "Don't touch me, faggot! You'll get your fairy dust on me! I don't want to end up like Anderson after that fairy Hummel turned him into one—"

Blaine stood up from his chair so quickly that he didn't even realize he was on his feet, and he knotted Karofsky's collar around his fist. "Kurt's not a faggot, you asshole!" He yelled, curling his hand and whacking the left side of Karofsky's face.

"Blaine!" Someone shouted from the front of the room, "Get out of my classroom _now!_"

Blaine whipped around and stared at Lumbly, then at his classmates who were all wide eyed. His jaw tightened and he wrapped his arms around himself, staggering out of the room. He wanted to sit in his car until Kurt got back from the mall, probably cry a little. He was tired and wanted to curl up in Kurt's arms, feel his soft, gentle fingers thread through his hair and stroke him. In his daze, he didn't realize anyone was nearby until he bumped into someone.

"Blaine," the person sounded surprised, and Blaine looked at Schuester. He held his hand out and grabbed Blaine's shoulder to steady him. "Blaine, are you alright? You look pale."

Blaine didn't want to talk to anyone about his issues, so he jerked away, "I'm just going to the locker room."

Schuester kept a firm grip on him, "Hey… stop. I'm not going to bite you. Do you want to sit down in my room for a little while? I can get you some water." Putting his hand between Blaine's shoulders, Schuester pushed him in the direction of the choir room. "It'll be okay, whatever's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong—" Blaine snapped, weakly trying to escape again. Part of him wanted to walk away, but the other was so exhausted that sitting down and drinking a cup of water didn't sound that bad.

"You might not show that many emotions, Blaine, but I can tell when you're upset." Schuester warned him, which bothered Blaine. He didn't want anyone figuring him out. It hurt too much when he was betrayed.

* * *

Kurt slipped out of the curtain to the dressing room and showed Rachel his shoes, a pair of high heels that matched his eyes. "Do you like these?" He chirped, wiggling his foot. He did a little spin to show how well he could walk in them. "I think Blaine will think they're so pretty. He wants us to wear outfits with the color of my eyes… that's so sweet, isn't it? But I'm choosing his eye color when we go to prom. He has beautiful eyes… dark gold…" He shivered just thinking about them, and he realized he missed Blaine very much.

Rachel was stuck on one of Kurt's statements. "How do you know you'll go to prom with him? You know, a lot of people are betting that Blaine will play a mean prank on you at homecoming. No one thinks that he could actually like you. I told you, Kurt, Blaine isn't nice—"

Kurt gasped and turned away from a mirror to face her, his face pink and lips trembling, "You promised you wouldn't say anything mean about Blaine if I went shopping with you!"

"I'm trying to help you." Rachel insisted, sitting down on a bench and crossing her legs. "You don't know how awful he is."

Kurt's eyes filled with tears, "You're hurting my feelings." He put his hands on his cheeks, squishing them and puckering his pink lips. He looked like a little doll. "You broke a promise and you're being very mean to Blaine. He's nice, Rachel… a gentleman. He respects me and he's not mean. No one understands him."

"I understand him!" Rachel almost yelled, quieting her voice when one of the employees glanced at them. "You're the one who thinks everything is happy and nothing bad can happen." At that, tears slipped down  
Kurt's cheeks and he pressed his hand to his mouth, and she started to regret it but kept going. "But I get Blaine. You think he's good but he's not, and _nothing_ can make him better. You know, Karofsky told him to punch a kid just because he was gay… and he did it. He punched him so hard that the kid stopped coming to school and transferred. I don't know why Blaine hasn't punched you yet."

Kurt shook his head, poking his fingers into his ears. "That's not Blaine. I know he regrets it. He would never hurt me." Crying into his hand, Kurt turned around and wrapped his arms around himself. "I want to go back to Blaine. Please… just take me back to the school."

When Kurt started walking out of the store, Rachel hurried after him, "Kurt, I just don't want Blaine to break your heart."

"He won't break my heart." Tears dripped off the tip of Kurt's nose, and he rubbed it until it was pink. He kept walking, knowing that Blaine loved him and wouldn't ever hurt him.

* * *

Blaine walked into the choir room with Schuester on his heels, glaring at the empty seats and the silent piano. It all seemed so different without Kurt there, singing in the middle of the room, swaying his hips to the beat of a song. Blaine wondered if he hated it or loved it, but he felt emotionless. Schuester took a few steps in front of him and sat down at the piano, pulling up a chair beside the bench. Blaine stared at it for a few seconds, knowing what Schuester wanted him to do. Pushing his hair off his face, Blaine lowered onto the edge of the chair and crossed his arms.

Schuester sighed heavily at Blaine's defensive pose, and he rubbed his nape, "It's gotten worse, hasn't it?"

Blaine flicked his eyes to Schuester, then stared at the tips of his shoes again. Schuester hesitated before continuing, "I mean with Karofsky. You're hurting because of it, and you use moments when Kurt isn't around to lash out… because you don't want him to see you like that. People are talking, Blaine. You used to have everything put together. Sure, you were a bully, but you seemed… on top of things. Now that Kurt's here, you're missing class, you're always on edge, you don't talk much to others. You get stressed every time you're not with Kurt, and you withdraw from people. I'm not saying Kurt's a bad influence. Believe me, I think Kurt's the best thing that's ever happened to you. It's just… I see you struggling. You obviously love Kurt very much and you make it very clear that you do, but when you're alone it's like… you're defensive because you're just waiting for the next attack."

"I'm fine." He hated saying that because he knew he wasn't, but he didn't want to let Schuester in. "You don't know me. I'm always… like this."

"No, I don't know you, Blaine." Schuester quietly agreed. "No one really knows you, do they? I've seen you around, though, and that's enough. Like I said, it's very obvious when you're unhappy. Ever since Karofsky took you in, you've been frustrated and bitter towards everyone. You've slept with girls who you fight with now, like what happened on the bus with Rachel. Kurt got you away from all of that anger that Karofsky has… and I know that Kurt's a very perky person so it has to be different for you." He paused to smile at that, and even though Blaine privately agreed, he didn't smile back. "I've seen you around Kurt—you act like you've just realized what love feels like. And I know Kurt is at his strongest when he's with you. He loves you, Blaine… more than I think any of us will ever realize. He wants you to be happy."

Blaine didn't want to say anything, not because he was afraid of revealing too much, but because he didn't know what to say. Biting the inside of his cheek, Blaine tucked a loose strand behind his ear and shifted his weight.

Schuester sighed and leaned forward, touching Blaine's knee. "Alright, I know that pamphlets don't help, so I was thinking that we could talk as two guys. Blaine… without telling me that you're not gay, because I think you're pretty doubtful of that, will you tell me what the difference is between what you're going through now and what you would go through if you came out? You're just preventing yourself from everything that Kurt wants to give you. You're getting all the homophobic insults and pressure from your peers now that you would if you came out. If you came out, you'd still have all of that, but… you'd be able to hold hands with the person you love, and kiss Kurt, and—"

"I'm not gay."

Groaning, Schuester covered his face with his hands as he realized he wasn't breaking a single crack into Blaine's hardened heart. "_Why_, Blaine? Why aren't you gay? Why don't you tell me those reasons?"

"Because I know I'm straight."

He realized he was probably pushing Blaine, but he wanted to know. Blaine was so hard to figure out. "Who convinced you of that, Karofsky?"

Blaine's jaw tightened, and he raised his head slightly, "Is there a _point_ to coming out? I'd come out and be with Kurt for, what, another eight and a half months, then he'd leave for Paris and I'd be stuck here alone, dealing with the comments and sneers and I'd have no one because Kurt is the only—" Blaine stopped talking, realizing that if he told Schuester that he doubted that there was anyone else for him he'd practically be coming out right then and there. He quickly blurted, "He told me he'd stay with me if I came out, but I can't do that to him. I won't hold him back from Broadway. He deserves so much more than me and if he stays with me… I'll make him miserable and I'd rather him leave loving me than stay and hate me."

Schuester reached out to touch Blaine, but stopped himself when Blaine scooted away, "You don't have to be away from him. You could go with him. I know you feel like you have to stay here, but for you to reject Kurt—"

"I'm _not_ rejecting him," Blaine bit out, peeling his lips back. "I'm refusing to hold him back. Why don't you get into Quinn's business this way? Or Puck's? Why does it have to be mine when I've done everything I can to make it clear that I _want to be left alone__?_"

Schuester stared blankly at Blaine for several minutes, but Blaine, rather than feel intimidated, didn't look away from him. Finally, Schuester held up his hands and nodded, "Alright, Blaine. I get it. Someone has done something so bad to you that you can't even talk to someone who wants to care about you. I can understand you keeping this from Kurt. He doesn't need to hear about stress with Karofsky. But, don't… don't keep it inside. It's tearing away at you. I know people have let you down, Blaine, but you're letting yourself down by forcing yourself to suffer through this alone."

"There's no one I can talk to." Blaine whispered, returning his gaze to the floor. "All teachers do is hand me pamphlets about gay sex then call my parents with their concerns. My parents are homophobes, I have no friends, and Kurt is just… I can't put this on him. It hurts him to see me… dealing with stuff. I'd rather keep him out of this."

Schuester's jaw tightened, then he reached for a folder sitting on the piano. He slipped a plain piece of sheet paper out and handed it to Blaine. "You're really good at music, Blaine." He muttered, getting to his feet. "You can write a song about the way you feel… you can keep it to yourself if you don't want me to know. Or you can give it to me and we can try talking again… I could even give you extra credit for it. Or you could give it to Kurt and talk to him about it. It's good that you trust him… I can tell that he never wants to hurt you."

He waited until Schuester walked away and closed the door behind himself to breathe, staying in the chair with his arms crossed and his head low. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and rubbed his face, feeling his stubble scratch his hands. He lifted his lashes again and stared at the piece of paper in his hands, thinking about crumpling it up and throwing it away. How could he ever write a song if he didn't know his own feelings? Turning his head, he stared at the piano for what felt like a long time, remembering when he used to play. He'd been young, needy for something to hang onto, and then he'd heard the song Ben. He'd learned to play it on the piano, just because he felt like it was the perfect song for him, but he stopped playing when he got older. Karofsky had told him that playing the piano was for faggots, and Blaine had never looked at a piano since.

Hesitantly scooting onto the bench, Blaine touched the piano keys and felt them tremble under his strong fingers. He pressed down on one and was shocked when it made a noise, then he pushed another. He heard the notes chime out of the piano, but he didn't believe that he was the one making the music. He was so captivated by the music that he hardly noticed the door swinging open and a high pitched voice politely murmuring, "Thank you for coming with me today, Rachel."

Rachel said nothing, and when Blaine turned his head, he found her staring at him from the doorway. She looked very uncomfortable, then she turned around and left. Kurt, waving after her, shut the door and turned around. He smiled at Blaine, who raised a brow, "You're back early. How'd you know I'd be in here?"

Kurt bounced over to Blaine and kept his hands behind his back, his pink lips curved and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "I saw Mr. Schuester in the hallway. He told me you were here so I thought I'd visit you. Are you happy to see me?"

Holding his arms out, Blaine nodded for him to come closer. "Yes. Come here… let me hold you. Your hands are pink from the cold… I'll warm you up."

Kurt squirmed as he approached Blaine, his cheeks brightening to an almost cherry shade. "I brought you a present from the mall. It's more for me because he's so soft and cuddly…" he showed Blaine a stuffed dog with big eyes, then he squished him to Blaine's cheek. "But I want you to have him. Isn't he cute?"

Smirking at Kurt, Blaine took the dog from him, then wrapped his arm around his hips and tugged him to his lap. "You're so sweet." He muttered, kissing the tip of Kurt's nose. "Thank you."

Curling into Blaine, Kurt tucked his head under his chin and whispered, "Why do you look so upset? I'm sorry I left you like that… I wanted to go shopping with you but I want you to be surprised when you see my dress."

Blaine shook his head, kissing Kurt's ear, "No… I'll be fine, baby. You don't have to worry about me. Was shopping okay?"

"Mm hm." Kurt nodded and sighed against Blaine's neck, making his skin very warm. "I bought shoes… they're very cute. And a few necklaces… I love jewelry." Looking at the ring on his finger, Kurt smiled and held it up to Blaine's face. Blaine kissed the gum wrapper ring, happy that Kurt was still wearing it. "But I was very sad without you. I just wanted to go back to you."

Blaine grinned at that, closing his eyes and kissing the top of Kurt's head, "I really missed you, baby. Never leave me like that again."

"Never," Kurt agreed softly, his eyes sparkling. He looked down at the piano and stroked the keys, "I heard you playing when I walked in. It was a pretty song. What was it called?"

"Uh…" Blaine frowned at the piano. "Ben. It's about a boy who has no one except his best friend and they love each other. I relied on it a lot when I was younger… you know, before high school started and I began acting like… what I used to be. I didn't have many friends and this was just sort of my reminder that one day someone will be there, probably singing this song with me."

Kurt looked at the piano with a soft expression, and he lifted Blaine's hand and placed it on the keys. "Please, play it again. For me? It was lovely."

Blaine hesitantly pressed down on the keys, and Kurt watched his fingers skim over the notes. He wondered if Kurt was imagining his fingers sliding over his body that way. Catching the rhythm of the song, Kurt assumed the perfect singing posture and he hummed with Blaine's tune. Blaine smiled as Kurt closed his eyes and chirped with the music.

Blaine jumped in on the second stanza and watched Kurt's eyes pop open in surprise. He almost laughed at his startled expression but kept with the music, singing lyric to lyric with Kurt. Reaching the third stanza, Blaine tried to slow the song down, not wanting it to end. He could have spent all day singing it with Kurt. Suddenly smiling and snuggling into Blaine's side, Kurt sighed happily. Kurt sang higher than he had for the entire song, and Blaine peeled his fingers away from the piano.

In his four years at McKinley High, Blaine had never thought he would go in the choir room, let alone duet with the most beautiful boy he had ever seen to a love song he had never shared with anyone before.

Suddenly feeling someone's eyes on his back, Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder and saw Karofsky pressed up against the glass with a grimace of not disgust but what looked like pain or anguish or… heartbreak… on his face. Karofsky suddenly jerked away and ran down the hall. Noticing Blaine's tension, Kurt lifted his blond lashes and glanced up at Blaine's hard face. He stroked his jaw, "Blaine… what's wrong?"

Tearing his eyes away from the door, Blaine chose to deal with Karofsky and what that face could have meant later, because he wanted nothing to ruin this moment. As everyone was saying, his time with Kurt was coming to an end. If that was the case, he wanted to spend every second with him. Blinking at Kurt's small, furrowed face, Blaine soothed him with a swift kiss. "Nothing, sweetheart. I was just… thinking. You want to go home, baby? I'll take you home."

Kurt squeaked and stared at Blaine with very big eyes, "But you'll stay, won't you? You won't leave me."

"Not until you want me to." Blaine promised Kurt, stroking his thumb over Kurt's soft cheek. He almost felt dangerous, touching Kurt even lightly. Kurt was so fragile that he felt like he could shatter him with one wrong touch.

Kurt shook his head, his eyes still huge with worry. "I'll never want that, Blaine. I'll always want you."

Slipping his fingers through Kurt's, he lifted his hand to his lips, rubbing back and forth. "Good. Staying with you is the best thing that could ever happen to me."

Kurt's happy expression finally changed, "Don't you mean _will?_ We'll stay together, won't we?"

Blaine didn't answer Kurt, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he knew the answer and didn't want to say it. Kurt would just have to find out for himself that he wasn't good for him. Distracting Kurt from his heartbreaking question, Blaine tied him in his arms and lifted him onto the piano, laying him down. Climbing above Kurt's needy body, Blaine straddled him, nuzzling his mouth onto his. Brushing his long hair back to keep from tickling Kurt's nose, Blaine closed his eyes.

And every worry disappeared.


	19. I Feel Pretty

Author's note: I completely changed this chapter -.- but I guess it's okay because my Beta approved it! :D

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Blaine opened the door to Kurt's little house and put his foot inside, hearing the TV from the living room. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind himself and looked at Burt, who was sitting in his chair and sipping on a root beer. He stared at the screen, watching a football game, then glanced up when he heard Blaine. "Hi, Burt." Clearing his throat and rubbing his nape, he looked at Kurt's door, "Is Kurt here?" Blaine expected that Kurt would have told him about a shopping trip because he told him everything, so he wasn't worried about him leaving.

Burt looked at his son's bedroom, "Yeah, he's down there. The last time I saw him he came upstairs to get a cookie and told me he was going to have a Disney movie marathon." Shrugging his shoulder, he muttered, "I dunno. He always said he wanted to be a princess."

Smirking at that and thinking about how adorable Kurt would look in a ball gown and tiara, Blaine tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and started heading toward his door when Burt put his pop down with a clink. "Hey, kid… I want to talk to you about something. Don't give me any faces, you're not in trouble."

Blaine stopped walking and glanced at Burt again, his eyes wide with worry. He didn't know Burt well, so he wanted to keep his distance. Waving Blaine over, Burt nodded his head. "Come on. Nothing's wrong… you don't have to worry about me punching you. I will punch you if you hurt my baby, but Kurt's happy… so I'm happy."

Hesitantly walking into the living room, Blaine sat down on the edge of one of the couches when Burt gestured to it. Burt leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach, "I get that you and Kurt have… gotten a little closer. I didn't expect that in the beginning because Kurt doesn't usually hang out with…" he made a motion with his hand, "you know… jocks. Now that you've become Kurt's closest friend… I feel like you need to know that Kurt needs to be cared for. He's not a football buddy. He needs to feel respected and safe… you can't take him to wild parties and give him beer… or slap him around like you would your other friends. He's delicate and a little naïve… he can't stand up for himself and he doesn't know when someone's taking advantage of him. I don't know anything about you… but you seem responsible. Just… promise me you won't hurt him."

Shaking his head, Blaine shoveled his fingers into his hair and muttered, "I care about Kurt… so much. I'll never hurt him. He's… so precious to me." His brows slowly lowered over his eyes and he said in a much deeper voice, "You sound like he's been hurt before."

"No…" Burt shook his head. "I mean, not as far as I know. Kurt's pretty good about telling me stuff… he's the chattiest person in our family. When he was little, he met this boy who was a few years older than him. He took good care of him… treated him just like a little brother. He kept him safe… besides that night when…" his voice faded away and he cleared his throat. "A really good friend of Kurt's… who was dating that boy who took care of him… was murdered when the boy took them out shopping. But… other than that, no, Kurt's never been hurt badly. Anyway…" He leaned forward and picked up a tiny box off the coffee table.

"I heard homecoming is coming up so I pulled this out of my box of old trinkets." Handing the box to Blaine, Burt cleared his throat. "It belonged to Kurt's mom… I gave it to her the night of our prom. Kurt loves things from his mom… so I thought you could give it to him. It's pretty nice… still has all of its petals."

Flipping the box open, Blaine gasped at the sight of the beautiful jewel within. A white ribbon tied with a felt blossom of cerulean lilacs, the tips dipped in a pretty purple shade, sprung out at him. White pearls and lace looped and twirled around the flowers. Stroking the delicate petals, he suddenly imagined Kurt wearing only this as Blaine climbed over his limp, flushed body. So beautiful. Blaine murmured, "Burt, this is beautiful. Thank you."

Burt shrugged, "I'm just glad Kurt has someone like you. You're good for him."

Pushing his hair back, Blaine slipped the box into his pocket and got to his feet. "Thank you for trusting me with him. I promise that I'll do my best to make him happy." When Burt grinned approvingly at him, Blaine turned away and walked toward Kurt's bedroom. He opened the door and stepped downstairs, hearing a pretty humming sound coming from his bedroom.

When Blaine walked into Kurt's bedroom, he saw that Kurt's TV was on and playing what looked like Cinderella, but he didn't see Kurt anywhere. "Dad?" He heard Kurt chirp, and he turned his head to spy his tiny form at his closet.

Kurt pulled a dress from his closet and peeled away from the doors, peeking at Blaine. His eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he hopped. "Blaine!" His dimples popped and he scurried over to Blaine, snuggling against his chest. "I'm so happy to see you."

Bending his head, Blaine kissed Kurt, making Kurt purr with happiness. "I'm happy to see you, too. What are you up to? Are you watching Cinderella?"

Kurt looked at his TV as if to be sure, then he smiled and bounced again. "Oh, I am! It's so romantic… but then I saw how pretty Cinderella looked in her ball gown and I wanted to see if I had any dresses like hers. I found this blue one… I could add sparkles to it and look just like her!" Holding a blue dress up to his body, Kurt did a little twirl and giggled. "And you could be my prince. You look like a prince. You just need to kneel at my feet and give me a glass slipper."

Snorting, Blaine watched Kurt scamper back to his closet and search for more dresses that looked like the dresses the princesses wore. "I'll give you a hundred glass slippers if that's what you want." He went over to Kurt's bed and sat down on the edge, his eyes on Kurt as he hopped to reach something up high.

Kurt put the dress back and skipped over to Blaine, sitting down on his knee, "Why are you visiting me? I'm very happy you're here but you can't spend every day with me. You have to have football practice or…" he tapped his chin and furrowed his brows, "friends—"

"I can spend every day with you." Blaine corrected, taking Kurt in his arms and laying him down on the bed. Throwing his leg over him, Blaine stared down at his small face. "Nothing is more interesting or amusing than you. I like being with you."

Smiling from ear to ear, Kurt squirmed, "You're making me blush." He covered his pink face with his hands, then perked up at something and almost tossed Blaine aside. "Oh, it's my favorite part!" He sat up and clapped his hands, his huge eyes on the screen. "She loses her shoe and the prince wants to give it back to her… that's very nice of him. I would want a shoe like that given back to me… it's so pretty."

Blaine stared at the screen with him, watching the prince go mad over finding the girl who fits the slipper. Beside of the TV were a few other movies like Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, and Sleeping Beauty. "Is Cinderella your favorite?"

Kurt looked at Blaine with sparkling eyes, and he shook his head. "I like her dress best… she's the most fashionable. But Beauty and the Beast makes my heart race. I've always thought that it was the most beautiful love story… how the Beast is so hurt… but he gets better because of love." Just talking about it made his eyes fill with tears, and he giggled and blinked them away. "I'm sorry… I'm such a romantic."

"Don't be sorry about that." Blaine muttered lowly, absolutely enthralled with the emotion on Kurt's face. He'd never seen someone show how they felt so easily, and it made him feel trusted. "I think you're beautiful when you show so much emotion."

Kurt's eyes widened, his lips slightly parting. His mouth quivered and his cheeks turned bright red. "Oh, Blaine… you deserve a kiss." He whispered, pecking Blaine's cheek with a kiss.

Blaine smiled and pressed his cheek to Kurt's. Turning his head to the TV, Blaine saw the prince kneel by Cinderella's feet and slip the shoe onto her toes. "I'm so happy they're back together." Kurt sighed, still clinging to Blaine. "The prince must have been so sad."

"He was…" Blaine muttered, and Kurt glanced at him. "I know I would be if you left… but I can understand why he let her go. I'd let you go if you wanted to leave."

"Oh, no." Kurt shook his head, tucking his head under Blaine's chin. "I wouldn't want to leave you."

"Sometimes it's not really a choice." His voice got very low as he put his mouth against the top of Kurt's head. "She didn't have much of a choice… she lived a different life than the prince, and she thought they were too different to be together."

Closing his eyes, Kurt whispered, "But you'll promise me you'll never let me go?" He opened one eye and pointed at the screen, where Cinderella and Henry were running to the carriage after they were married. "I want a happily ever after with you."

Blaine blinked at the screen, watching the happiness on their faces, wondering if he would ever feel that way. He thought that Kurt could make him that happy, but he was also confused if Kurt meant marriage between the two of them. Deciding that he didn't because he knew that Blaine was straight, he muttered, "I can't promise you that, Kurt." At Kurt's hurt expression, he soothed him with a kiss to his forehead. "We'll always love each other… but I can't keep you from your dreams."

"You're my dream," Kurt whispered against Blaine's neck, and Blaine swallowed thickly and nuzzled Kurt, but he didn't say a word. Wrapping Kurt up tighter, Blaine pressed their cheeks and gently kissed him.


	20. Somewhere Only We Know

Author's note: Hey, everyone! I would just like to start out this author's note by saying that this story has over fifteen thousand hits so I'd like to thank all of my awesome readers for the support! Sorry for the late update but a lot of stuff has come up that's been delaying this chapter. I should have the next chapter up by next Friday. This chapter has been my most challenging yet because it has so much stuff going on in it that severely affects the entire trilogy. That sounds dramatic but this chapter sort of sends the rest of this story in a one-eighty that throws everything out of balance. Because it has such a huge impact I've definitely lost sleep, my social life and my sanity over this chapter but it might be one of my favorites. Hopefully all of you like the turn-out and if you do enjoy it, review! :)

Before I end this author's note I'd like to address a few concerns that have come up about me using the spelling _strait_ for sexuality. To answer that concern, I'd like to mention that for about three years now I've been working on gay and lesbian novels and have spent over half of a year researching anything I could about homosexuals for those novels and I've heard both the spellings, strait and straight, used interchangeably, so for continuation purposes and the fact that I'm so adjusted to using the spelling that I do, I'm going to keep it but thanks for the advice to the anonymous reviewer who brought up the concern :)

To address the other part of the concern that anonymous reviewer brought up, if you're thinking about when Kurt is telling Blaine that bi is just a term gays use to hide their true sexuality, that's actually a paraphrased quote directly from the Glee TV shows in Blame it on the Alcohol and does not reflect my personal views. In my story it also doesn't mean that Kurt is exactly downing bi-sexuals. He's more just angry that Blaine won't admit he's gay and he's trying to make him come out. I personally believe that if two people are in love, to go for it. I support homosexuality, transgenders, pansexuals, bi-sexuals, and pretty much any other sexuality a person can be. As far as this trilogy goes, I'm only going to have straits, homosexuals, and one pansexual character who won't have a huge part or even really talk of his sexuality until the third story. If there are any more questions about what I believe, feel free to ask :)

To finish my author's note off, a lot of people have been wondering what would happen were my story to get deleted. In the case that it does, I have two websites marked off that for now I do not have this posted on but will post it on if worst comes to worst. The two websites are scarvesandcoffee and livejournal. If those websites do not take my story because of technical problems, I'll probably send my story readers each a PM stating the new website. It would be under the same title it is on here and I would use the same username, so if it does get deleted check on those sites and I'm sure it will be up on at least one of those.

Disclaimer: I'm running out of ways to say that I don't own Glee. I might start putting my disclaimers in other languages :)

* * *

Parking his car in the Hummel driveway, Blaine glimpsed briefly in the mirror to advice further assistance to his annoying white-boy-fro that had chosen that specific day to frizz and explode around his head. After washing it thoroughly three different times, dunking his head under a blasting sink and even forcing himself to turn on a woman's blow dryer and blow it in the directions he wanted it still reminded him of a bad parody of Goldilocks on a bad hair day—only with black hair instead of blond. Dressed formally in his black tux, light blue dress shirt and glasz tie, he considered himself moderately presentable—at least for a tacky school dance.

The best he could do was say that he at least _tried_ to put in effort for a stupid dance, for Kurt's sake at most. Swallowing the mint he'd been sucking on for the past hour, along with having not eaten anything all day and brushing his teeth once per every hour and a half, Blaine adjusted his tie and pushed open his car door. He was more than prepared to face the judgment of his classmate's eyes as he guided Kurt through the gym doors and onto the dance floor, but he actually didn't give a damn for once. As long as it wasn't another man dancing with Kurt in his arms, Blaine considered it progress.

Catching Burt's awaiting eye at the door, Blaine approached the house and slid inside, grateful for the warm coziness within compared to the bitter, snapping wind of an Ohio winter outside. Blaine glanced over his shoulder at Burt once he was inside, and Burt lightly patted his shoulder and handed him the corsage box with a wink that looked more like an eye twitch than anything. But Blaine gave Burt a mental applause for trying, anyway. "Hey, kid. You're looking good tonight. I'm glad you showed. I've heard about those damned pranks going around where a guy asks someone on a date then doesn't even show up." At Blaine's blank expression Burt cleared his throat, "Anyway, uh… Kurt should be up in a minute. Last I saw him he was getting his dress zipped up. Let me give him a holler."

Despite Blaine's reprisals Burt lumbered over to the stairs and knocked on the wood mantel, shouting through the door, "Kurt, Blaine is here! Come on up!"

"Okay!" Kurt's unusually high pitched voice soared up the stairs. "I'm ready!" Hearing heels click against the floor, Blaine glimpsed at Burt for any guesses as to what insane, Gaga-inspired outfit his beautiful date might be wearing. Kurt's voice trilled up the stairs, distracting Blaine, "Dad, Rachel keeps texting me saying how tragic it's been that she and Finn have been waiting on me forever, so I think we'll just skip the homemade pictures and get one done at homecoming. Is that okay? I promise that we'll do pictures at home when we go to prom."

Privately, Blaine adored the way Kurt used the word _we_ in his sentence… until he emerged from the top of the stairs, tugging at his cashmere gloves, and suddenly Blaine couldn't remember what the hell he'd been thinking about in the first place. Jaw going limp, all the pressure in his head rushed to his groin, leaving him so lightheaded he had to steady himself by gripping down on a table so he didn't stumble or fall over. Adorned in a pair of white, ankle-cut riding boots with a two inch heel and pointed toes, a pair of clear-white panty hoes that cut off halfway up his thighs—exposing most of the skin on his upper thigh, and a pair of white gloves that cut off at the wrist, Kurt helplessly smiled at Blaine as they came face to face, and Blaine couldn't recall whether or not Burt had left the room so Blaine could pin Kurt against a wall and grind him senseless. His dress was cerulean blue and a drop sleeve with white straps at his shoulders to hold it up. Tight at the stomach with a white sash across his middle sewn into the dress and a slash of material missing from the dress around Kurt's stomach, side and hip where white skin was exposed, it frilled out at the hips into a few layers of ruffles that barely covered an inch below the bottom of his arse. Kurt's sandy hair was coiffed into messy waves atop his head, a light dusting of white lipstick paled out his pink lips and a pink blush flamed his cheeks to appear rosy and warm against his pale blue eyes that were highlighted by a cloud of glitter sprinkled around his round eyes.

"Damn…" Blaine hadn't realized he'd breathed aloud until Burt shot him a measuring glare and he heard him popping his knuckles testily. _I'm in love with a freaking angel._

Awkwardly smiling at Blaine when Blaine ogled him for about two minutes too long, Kurt flushed pink and raised a hand to his hair, "I… look alright, don't I? I mean, if the dress is too much—"

"No." Blaine interrupted a second too swiftly, startling Kurt into darkening to an apple red color in his cheeks and neck. "Don't… Don't change anything. You're lovely. I mean… you're perfect. You look stunning—"

Burt cleared his throat to remind them that he was still present.

After shooting Burt a harsh look Kurt smiled out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes shimmering and dancing with delight, "I'm glad you think so. I was worried you'd be… embarrassed. I asked Unique for advice and he said I have the perfect figure for a mini halter dress, so I figured why not make this year as perfect and memorable as possible. Which reminds me, I have something for you."

Kurt shimmied past Blaine to the coffee table where he lifted a boutonniere and held it out in his palm for Blaine to observe. The coloring was a little darker than Kurt's eye color, with tiny midnight colored petals surrounding the main, dyed rose. Blaine's lips curved as Kurt lifted the flap on Blaine's coat and pinned it exactly where it needed it to be. Lovingly he smoothed the coat back down and pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek, and both of them shivered at the electric prickles where their skin had made contact. Checking over his shoulder to where his father was rubbing his arms and shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes to the ground, Kurt deviously leaned in to Blaine and nuzzled his lips into his ear, "Let's leave the homecoming a little early tonight." For a hint as to why, Kurt brushed his fingers over the nonexistent curve of Blaine's ass.

Blaine trembled again, his face draining of color. How the hell was he supposed to make it through even two hours of the homecoming grinding against Kurt on the dance floor when he knew he could be at home on Kurt's bed grinding him there with no clothes on? He rolled his eyes at his own lack of luck.

Sensing the closeness of his son's barely covered body next to Blaine's, Burt spoke up again, "Alright, kid. Have fun tonight. No alcohol. No unwanted pregnancies and no going home with any boys—" At Kurt's severe expression, Burt added, "—unless it's Blaine. Blaine is the only approved one. Anyone else and their butts are going outside. And, Kurt, I want you to hang out with your other friends, too. Give Blaine a chance to hang out with his football buddies."

While Blaine felt a stirring of smugness within him, Kurt looped his arms around his neck as though practicing for their positions during dancing and said with a bite to his words, "Okay, Dad. You won't wait up, right? I'll be out late and you need your sleep."

Smirking, Burt clicked his tongue, "Oh, my butt will be planted in that chair right there and my shotgun will be right beside me. Blaine, a foot of distance tonight and when you dance, grab arms, not hips. And believe me, I'll know the difference. No one notices things about my son like I do."

"Dad," Kurt whined, his eyes shutting to block out the tragedy Burt was making of his entire night, "Please, can we have a minute?"

Burt shot Blaine a warning look, then headed for the hallway to disappear into his bedroom. As soon as he heard the door click shut, Kurt sighed and dropped his head against Blaine's chest, "I'm sorry. I had no idea he would be this way. I can assure you that he most certainly will _not_ be waiting up tonight."

Blaine frowned, shaking his head, "No, don't—don't apologize, Kurt. I actually like that he's so protective of you. My dad never once gave a damn about me, and that's probably the majority of the reason why I became such an asshole. I think you and your dad's relationship is adorable. Maybe one of these days I'll take you out to dinner and your dad can come with us." Leaning down for a quick kiss from an appreciative Kurt, Blaine pulled away when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Kurt also jerked away and flushed, touching his jaw as Blaine curiously pulled his phone from his pocket and saw a text labeled urgent from Rachel.

Flipping his phone open, he frowned when he read, _Blaine! Kurt hasn't been answering his phone for ten minutes! Where are you? Answer me right now!_

Kurt slid the phone from Blaine's fingers and read the message for himself, and he pressed his fingers to his lips, "Oh, poor Rachel! I almost forgot about her! Let me text her back and tell her we'll be there in ten minutes—"

"_Or,_" Blaine snapped his phone shut, much to Kurt's dismay, "we could let the girl stand on her own two feet for ten minutes and force her to not lean on you for _everything_. Do you know how many times I've been cockblocked by Rachel interrupting us? Kurt, every time I see you two giggling over something or walking down the halls together, all I can think about is the mental scarring I went through after she sent me those nudist pictures! I swear, there were things done to my brain that day that damaged me beyond any help a psychiatrist could do."

Kurt covered his mouth with his curled knuckles to hide his smirk, but when Blaine growled at him and tugged him to the door he couldn't help but comment, "Well, luckily the only person you ever have to see naked again is me. And I'm a charm."

Blaine rolled his eyes at that but didn't comment, because even though he didn't want to think about ever laying with another person in his life besides Kurt… he didn't know the future. But he left it at that, wishing he didn't have to think about those moments until they actually came.

* * *

Rachel shimmied her body against Finn's, casually eyeing the door but was only rewarded for her stealthy spying with two freshmen, a sophomore and a couple of seniors walking through them. Awaiting Kurt's arrival, she looped her arms around Finn's neck, "Where is he? He promised to come. We _went_ shopping. Kurt would never waste an outfit."

"He'll be here, Rachel," Finn muttered, trying not to appear as turned off as he felt by his fiancée gushing over her gay best friend at _their_ homecoming, "Blaine called me when he was driving down to Kurt's place. That was only a half hour ago—"

"Kurt!" Rachel screamed, wrenching herself out of Finn's arms. Frowning, Finn spun around in the direction she lunged and caught sight of her mauling a squealing Kurt down. "Kurt, you came!" The two of them flung their arms around each other, bouncing up and down and shrieking like a couple of siblings separated at birth who were just meeting for the first time.

"Rachel!" Kurt squeezed her tightly, clearly thinking that if he let go she'd vanish off the face of the earth. "Your dress looks _amazing!_ I do fabulous work with picking out outfits. And I was right, you're perfect for Gucci's new line of shoes."

Rachel scoffed and plucked at a strap on Kurt's dress. Blaine almost wished that she had snapped it, just so it would fall down a little bit more on one side. "Please, you look so perfect! You _make_ that dress. And I love your Chanel riding boots!"

While Kurt kicked his foot into the air to admire them with Rachel, Finn flicked his eyes to Blaine, who quietly stood off to the side and cynically drank in his surroundings from the flashing disco lights to the laughing couples on the dance floor as they hopped around to the beat of Like a G6. Clearing his throat, he drew in Blaine's attention, "Hey, Blaine. How's it going?"

Blaine noticed that his date was still glued to Rachel so he gently placed his hand at Kurt's hip and pried him away, "So… this is homecoming. Cool… I guess."

Finn grinned consciously, "Yeah. Um… the last school dance you went to you, Azimio and Karofsky tried to crown me queen, so I guess this is better than last time."

Blaine dully turned his face away from Finn, keeping his arm fastened around Kurt's waist, "Whatever."

Unaware of the tension in Blaine's jaw just from being at a school event, Rachel bounced on her toes to the beat of Poker Face and whisked Kurt's hands into hers. "Kurt, come dance with me! Look, there's Tina and Mike! And Mercedes and Sam! Guys, come here!"

Deafened by another show of raucous squealing, Blaine backed into a table where Finn had already chosen to perch. Bravely releasing their dates into the hands of Rachel, Mike and Sam waded through the sea of people with Artie rolling along behind them. "Hey, y'all," he greeted, rolling to the spot beside Blaine. "Puck's mission to spike the punch bowl is a go. What _I_ really want to see is Santana and Quinn get so drunk they fall off the stage during the crowning of king and queen."

"Quinn's too obsessed with being queen to give it up that easy." Sam snorted, leaning back in his chair, "If she fell off she'd get right back up. But we all know who's going to win, anyway."

"Who's that?" Mike muttered, clearly clueless.

Sam nodded towards Blaine, who lowered his eyes to his lap, "Him and Santana, obviously. It happens every year. It's him and whoever he's dating at the moment. _Or,_ in Blaine's case, since him and Santana sort of broke up, it'll be whoever people want him to screw around with most. This whole king-queen voting thing is all based on sex, anyway—whoever is prettiest and who could make the hottest children."

"What about Kurt, then?" Artie suggested, eyeing a mute Blaine, "Aren't you two… a thing?"

"Kurt doesn't count," Finn put in automatically, and Blaine started scratching his palms so hard he felt skin tear, "For one, he's gay and seventy five percent of our school is homophobic. Two, he's a boy and to be prom queen you have to be… a girl. Three, most of our school thinks he obviously doesn't put out since during health class he ditched class with Blaine the week we discussed the feminine reproduction system. And that turns people off."

Blaine felt the words roll off his tongue before he could retract them, "Does a gay boy not wanting to see a girl's vagina automatically mean he doesn't put out, Hudson? I think it just means that he's a normal, gay boy."

Finn awkwardly cleared his throat at the question while Artie and Mike elbowed each other as they smirked and waggled their brows, provoking Blaine to believe that they were having some kind of telepathic conversation about Kurt and Blaine's sexual life. Finn massaged the nape of his neck, "Um… Blaine… has Kurt told you he puts out? Er… Do you have the experience to prove that Kurt puts out? What are you trying to say here?"

Luckily, before Blaine had to break his back fidgeting for a suitable answer, a noisy guffaw interrupted the conversation and a proud Puckerman tromped up to them and slapped Finn on the back. Finn coughed and jerked, sending Puck a glare when his eyes suddenly flew wide. "What the hell? Is that a _hickey_ on your neck? Dude, when did Little Miss Wholesome Fabray start giving out hickeys? Or was this one Santana's doing? Or Brittany's?"

Wild eyed, Puck rubbed his fingers over the hickey fondly, "Dude, you have no idea what just happened. I met an angel. So, there I was at the punch bowl pouring in the vodka when this freaking hot chick walked up to me and told me she just transferred and heard that I was the school badass. She drags me into the janitor's closet and gives me Seven Minutes in Heaven."

Artie cocked his brows skeptically, "But you've only been gone for five minutes."

Puck managed an awkward smile and a shrug, "Well, that's the problem. She told me I wasn't even turning her on and left. I think I'll just have to turn on the Puckasaurus charm and show her how Puckzilla really does things."

Blaine stared at the table wondering how that boy got by with raising a daughter who almost turned out to be his own, when Puck shouted above the music, "Dude, Blaine, I gotta warn you, this chick said she actually came here for you. She said she wanted to tame the beast inside of you, but then she found out you were gay. Karofsky told her that. So now she's going for me. I hope you don't mind because I'm totally into this chick."

He rolled his eyes, "Go ahead. I don't care. Who is she, anyway? Someone I know? How does Karofsky know her?"

"Step brother," Puck muttered casually, scanning the room and pointing to a six foot and three inch, dark haired, power woman in the corner that even Frankenteen frowned at, obviously intimidated. "Ah, there she is. How freaking hot is she? What I wouldn't pay to touch one of those knockers."

All five of the other guys at the table grimaced at the same time.

Tuning Puck out, Blaine whipped his head around wondering how many Karofsky clones were attending this homecoming. And how many Karofsky had paid to be Kurt's hit men. He abruptly spotted Karofsky standing against the wall beside Brittany for some odd reason, but rather than wonder if the two might hook up since Brittany would open up her legs for a scum bag drug dealer if he offered, Blaine turned his head to Kurt and barked out, "Kurt. Angel, come here, please." Kurt, who had been dancing next to Tina and Rachel, popped his head up and met Blaine's eyes, his own eyes very round and pupils huge. Blaine held his arms open expectantly.

Eagerly Kurt dismounted from the music and darted up to Blaine, who swung him down into his lap. Despite the seriousness of the situation Blaine noticed Kurt's skirt on his dress slip a little, revealing the bottoms of his light blue spankies. His pretty arse plopped down onto Blaine's crotch, covered only by the flimsy layer of his spankies. Blaine nuzzled Kurt's earlobe and turned his gaze down at the whites of Kurt's long, full, shapely legs. A single freckle rested on the outside of his right leg, and another at his groin, at the inside of his left thigh near his sac. Blaine had discovered another on his side, at his rib cage, while another resided just under his nipple, and another under his jaw. Besides the one on his underarm and the one at the bottom of his foot, Blaine favored the freckle only he knew about on Kurt's right ass cheek, and one just inside the crease of his ass crack.

Looping his arms around Blaine's neck and crossing his legs as he lay back against the cradle of Blaine's chest, Kurt jumped and flushed as his lower back brushed Blaine's pulsating core. "_Oi,_" he whispered in surprise, "you're really… hard right now. Why is that?"

Blaine unashamedly wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, pressing him deeper onto his steel rod so it prodded and poked at the crease of Kurt's ass. Kurt hissed and closed his eyes. "I was just thinking about sucking a hickey onto your ass. And maybe even your cock. Hell, I would suck a hickey onto your toes because I think that _those_ are sexy."

Kurt released a low moan into Blaine's neck, rubbing his lips back and forth across it. "I honestly think you have an obsession with my… um, underside. Especially that night I agreed to let you spoon me and I woke up and you were scissoring me in your sleep. You looked really into it in your sleep, too."

"It's called a wet dream, Kurt, and—shit, baby, don't move around like that. Let's go find a bathroom and I'll take care of you then we can ditch this hellhole." Blaine winced and shifted Kurt aside so his thigh didn't press against Blaine's hard-on, and Kurt frowned sympathetically.

"You're hurting," he whispered observantly, his lips pressing together. "Let me help you, Blaine. I can't leave Rachel here so early. She'll think something's wrong then text me all night. Put your legs more under the table—"

Blaine inwardly groaned at Kurt's demands, "Kurt, baby, I'm not going to let you give me a hand job in front of everyone. Let's go find a bathroom, sweetheart. It'll be easy and—holy _shit._" Bending over when Kurt went by his own plans and slid his fingers down the buttons on Blaine's coat to his abdomen and stopped at his pulsating crotch to squeeze the heavy weights, Blaine reached for Kurt's hand to remove it but Kurt batted it away. The crack of skin against skin did little to nothing to ease Blaine's hard-on. "Angel, please—"

Kurt ignored his halfhearted pleas in favor of curving his thin, smooth palm over the tent in Blaine's pants and gently balling his fist up around it. He rubbed the stiff muscle through Blaine's clothing, swirling his thumb and thumb nail against the right side of it, which Kurt knew was almost as sensitive as the underneath. Blaine muffled a quiet sound into his palm and dug his fingers into his hair, bowing over the table. Luckily Mike, Artie, Sam and Finn were in such a heated discussion over the last football game that they hardly noticed.

Kurt pinched Blaine's zipper between his fingers and tugged it down an inch, his face perfectly composed while he busily jerked Blaine off in front of everyone. Expertly he pushed at the button on Blaine's crotch until it popped free of the slit and his pants were undone in a matter of seconds. With more freedom his cock jolted against his boxers, biting its way through the open slot. At last the pre-cum leaking tip emerged and Kurt closed his fingers over the purple nub, his finger swirling the pre-cum around at the very bottom of the base to juice it up. "Baby, please. I don't want to come like this—" Tears stung Blaine's eyes, but before he could finish his sentence Kurt flipped part of his skirt over the showing cock and worked a smile onto his lips as Puck approached the table with a heavy set, emotionless girl on his arm.

Fully exposed to them, Blaine scooted his chair and Kurt under the table so he didn't feel as wide open to the world. Underneath the lip of his skirt Kurt fished for Blaine's cock and slid it out by its base, his small fist cupping it perfectly. Warm air thick with sweat and humidity hugged his weeping cock, and that along with Kurt's hand starting a rhythmic pattern of groping up and down, balls to tip, on his cock, forced Blaine's hips to jerk and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He bit down until he tasted blood on his knuckles to put his mind on something other than the pleasure at his hips, but nothing drowned out the warmth of Kurt's hand squeezing him.

The girl beside of Puck eyed Blaine, and Blaine wearily lifted his head to stare at her through blurry vision. "What's up?" she muttered, her eyes as blank as a runway model's, "I hear you're the Anderson boy."

Blaine stopped chewing his bottom lip and thought he nodded, but he wasn't sure, "I—" Kurt's thumbnail scraped against his balls, and he released a low noise between his teeth, but quickly covered up with, "—am. You're Karofsky's sister?"

Kurt's fingertips tickled his balls, then he drug them back along the underside of his cock, pressing into a large vein at the bottom. Blaine mindlessly rocked into him, and Kurt's perfectly innocent, pretty boy smile wavered for only a second as Blaine's cock jabbed deeper into his palm. Un-amused by Blaine's show, the girl grumbled and bit down onto a piece of melting, gooey chocolate in her hand, "Step. Step-sister. Our parents got married last summer. My brother doesn't like you. He has a punching bag and he pretends it's your face."

Returning to Blaine's tip, Kurt rubbed it in between two fingers, his thumb gliding against the slit at the very top of it. Blaine bit down on the inside of his cheek, aware of a couple of the guys taking notice to his sickly behavior. "Well, I don't like him, either—" Kurt smoothed a finger over an intricate tattoo of veins on the side of his cock, cutting him off. He bit his tongue that time to hold in his moan of pleasure.

"But he has a picture of _you,_" the girl nodded her head at Kurt, who perked up at that. His fingers didn't stop rubbing Blaine, though. "Yeah, he has, like, twenty pictures of you on his phone. I've caught him masturbating to them at night. It's pretty gross. He has loud orgasms."

Kurt's lips pressed together, and he slid back up to Blaine's balls to press on those. "Oh, really?" Rather than dwell on the subject at hand Kurt turned a forced smile to Blaine and murmured, "Oops. I think I felt your phone just fall out of your pocket. I'll get it."

Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers that his baby penguin boyfriend was suddenly so risqué as to give him a blow job under the table. Realizing all he could do was let Kurt do as he pleased or cause a scene, Blaine gripped onto the edge of the table like it was a lifeline as his boyfriend waited a few seconds to catch his reaction before sliding off his lap. All of the boys at the table darted up and straightened their spines, as though catching on to what was happening. Unable to see Kurt or his actions from how far his lap was under the table, Blaine forced himself to stare at the girl, "Where did he get those pictures of Ku—?"

A harsh ringing captivated his eardrums and his vision went black as he felt Kurt wedge himself between Blaine's thighs and his steamy breath enveloped his steel cock. Tuning out the conversation about Karofsky being a total perv, Kurt lapped his glass tongue up the side of Blaine's cock, starting at his tip. Blaine choked on his own air. He pressed his knuckles so hard against his lips he could feel bruises forming. A sweet tug on his cock informed him that Kurt's pink lips were sealed around his tip, and swiftly Blaine glanced down at his lap. Kurt was cuddled between Blaine's thighs on his knees, his hands squeezing Blaine's thighs. His face was a bright shade of pink from his lack of oxygen, and his blue eyes were closed as he suckled Blaine firmly yet gently, his teeth occasionally scraping the top of Blaine's cock. The feeling sent chills up his spine.

Focusing back in on the girl, Blaine reached his hand under the table and dug it into Kurt's hair. Kurt responded by sinking deeper onto his cock, taking at least six inches in before the tip gagged him. He slid his wet tongue out and wrapped it around Blaine's cock, gliding it up and down, up and down the sides of it. The girl bit down on the chewy candy again, "I don't know. He takes pictures of him when he doesn't know it—there are a lot of his ass on there. Is he your boyfriend?"

"I'm not gay." Blaine gasped, all while pressing his lips tightly together to muffle a groan.

Kurt popped his damp, rosy red lips off of Blaine's cock and kissed and licked a trail across the underneath to his balls. He spent his time at the one on the left, sucking it into his mouth and wrapping his tongue around it. Blaine's abdomen tightened. Lapping his tongue out and around the other, Kurt tangled the other one in his mouth and hummed against his skin, sending vibrations all the way up to Blaine's hair roots.

At last, Puck cleared his throat, "Zizes, babe, how about you, me and the dance floor? You like that idea?"

Mutely she rolled her eyes and allowed herself to be guided away, which inspired the other boys to each punch away from the table and hunt down their dates. "Kurt, baby," Blaine whispered desperately, his skin hot yet his face and neck so cold, "finish. Now. Everyone's gone."

Aware of Blaine's desperation to not be caught, Kurt released Blaine's sac in favor of lifting up his base and running his finger along the bottom of it. He indented a kiss into the very underneath of Blaine's balls, then ran his syrupy tongue along the bottom of it and with one squeeze to his upper thigh—Blaine exploded.

Hot cum sprayed from his tip into Kurt's mouth, and Kurt instantly picked up on the fact that he needed to suckle or else Blaine would most certainly have a stain on his dress pants. Tightening his small mouth, Kurt drank and licked Blaine's tip as Blaine himself laid his cheek against the table and covered his face with his arms, his cheeks and neck flushed from a burst of heat. His body trembled uncontrollably, and he jerked his hips into Kurt's face repetitively. Blindly he squeezed his eyes shut since all he could see was sparks, anyway, until the last of his cum dribbled out and Kurt lapped it up with his tongue, making a delicious sound in his throat as he rubbed Blaine's softening cock once, twice, then buried it back in his pants for later that night.

Kurt zipped him back up and within seconds his head popped back up, his cheeks bright red and his lips shining and bruised. Eyes burning bright, Kurt shifted back into Blaine's lap as he gained his breath back and he stroked a hand over Blaine's cheek, "Are you okay?"

Blaine nodded feebly, nuzzling his face against Kurt's hair, "Yeah, baby, I'm fine. I just—I love you so much. Are you okay? Do you need me to take care of you?"

Kurt pressed his face against Blaine's and smiled sheepishly, smoothing his hands down to Blaine's thick shoulders, "No. I told you, watching you climax is very pleasuring to me. Back in France a man who melts the way you do when you climax is rumored to have a very good sex life with the one he marries. Maybe this is good news for you."

Blaine smirked at Kurt's confident expression and smoothed the front of his hair where a piece had fallen over his forehead, "Sweetheart, you know I'm not a superstitious person. The way I climaxed just now… it simply means that you give really hot, sexy blow jobs. I'd adore knowing all of the things you can do with your tongue—"

"Kurt!" Rachel cried out from the dance floor, gesturing wildly for him with her hand. Blaine's face wiped out of all expression, and Kurt couldn't help but giggle as he wondered whether or not Blaine would start counting up the times that Rachel cock blocked them. By now, it was probably near a thousand. Either way, Kurt bounced to his feet and yanked Blaine up behind him, rushing off to meet his friends without one worry that the night would be anything less than perfect as Blaine whipped him into his arms and danced with him to the beat of Stereo Hearts, his friends right beside him and also dancing just as wildly.

After all, what could possibly ruin such a perfect night?

* * *

There was a time in Karofsky's mind when he wondered if what he was doing was wrong. His head throbbed. His body ached. His heart pounded. There was also a time between when he picked up his first drink to when the warm, refreshing alcohol saturated him skin and bones and burnt out the edge on his shitty night. But nothing could remove the knife in his heart that the person he'd just lost his virginity to wasn't Kurt Hummel. Instead, Kurt Hummel was inside dancing with his boyfriend and Karofsky's ex-friend, Blaine. He'd last seen Kurt giggling in Blaine's arms as Blaine swung him around and grinded him from behind. And that was when Karofsky considered it time to move in on his kill.

Writhing his way out of Brittany's car, Karofsky zipped up his jeans and refused to meet her eye, not that he ever really believed she met anyone's eyes. He sensed her blank stare on the back of his head as he whipped around, his vision blurry from how doused in alcohol he was—and how turned on he was to flip up Kurt's skirt at that moment and grind his little buttocks until he was screaming Karofsky's name. Brittany, who also slithered out of the backseat of her car, muttered lowly, "Did you not enjoy it?"

Karofsky reached down in his pants and stripped himself of his condom, still listening to her ramble on, "Because Santana always enjoys it. But her lady come tastes better than yours. Where are you going?"

"I need to find someone," Karofsky grumbled, dizzily stumbling back towards the gym doors. "I have to find Kurt." He didn't care if his friends caught him anymore, he was just so tired of sitting beside Blaine and Kurt in English and watching the two cuddle up next to each other and giggle all through class. Maybe if he could give Kurt just one kiss and make him realize that he, too, felt what Karofsky was feeling, he'd leave Blaine and the two of them could elope, leave McKinley, leave everything behind.

If not, Karofsky was half tempted at this point to drag Kurt away and lock him up in a tower just for safe keeping, away from Blaine, away from the world.

Karofsky could keep Kurt forever.

As soon as he pushed through the doors and nearly knocked over a junior boy who was flirting with a senior girl, gaudy music ruptured his ear drums and his vision fuzzed out, like the static on a TV. He pushed himself through the dancing bodies, the bitter chaperones desperately running between couples keeping a six inch distance between them. The second the chaperones left, though, the bodies fused right back together, like a stretched rubber band that had been snapped. Listening for Kurt's musical laugh, Karofsky emerged from the suffocating dance floor by the food table, where he discovered Blaine and the other football and glee guys.

Unable to identify them by anything other than distinctive features such as Finn's unique height or Puck's broad shoulders, Karofsky searched them for Kurt's smaller figure or his killer hips. Only finding Blaine, though, Karofsky figured Kurt must have been with the girls or alone.

An easy target, either way.

Knowing Blaine and his inability to let Kurt wander more than a few feet away, Karofsky scanned the crowds nearby when he caught a whiff of Kurt's perfume wafting past him. He whipped in that direction and zeroed in on a form wandering off to the bathrooms that smelt exactly like the perfume Kurt was renounced for wearing. He studied the figure just to be totally sure, and for a second the form paused and waved kindly to two gay boys on the dance floor, who instantly waved back then ducked their heads back together.

Karofsky finally had his target.

Everyone knew that at McKinley, gays were nice to gays, glee club members to glee club members and football players at their own turf. Therefore, only another gay boy could have been kind to those two gay boys. Before Blaine could catch on to his diabolical plan Karofsky snuck after the figure just after spying him disappear into the boys' bathroom. Heart racing, Karofsky wondered if Kurt would act like a total floozy and go weak kneed for any boy who showed him special attention, or if he would slap him off. Feisty or not Karofsky would find a way to tame him by the end of the year.

Checking over his shoulder for any sightings of Azimio—who was busy with Santana executing exactly how to go about their plan that Karofsky had no part in, Karofsky threw open the bathroom door and was engulfed in a wave of Kurt's perfume. Although his eyesight was dark and the bright lights of the bathroom worsened it, he could tell that he was in the right place. Silently he snuck into the bathroom and heard the sinks spin on and a gush of water deafened Karofsky's already ruined eardrums.

He slipped further in, glancing at the stalls to assure that no one was in here. The gray shadows of every stall door swung open confirmed his answer that he was completely alone with Kurt Hummel. Wiping his blood shot eyes until he caught sight of a dark silhouette bent over the sink and splashing water onto his face, he crept up behind Kurt and boldly touched his hand to Kurt's ass.

Kurt shot up like a spring, whipping around so Karofsky had to remove his hand instantly. "What the fuck are you doing, you freaking pervert—?" Snapped a masculine, low voice but Karofsky figured it was just his messed up ear drums and smashed his hands to the sides of Kurt's face. Bringing his face against Kurt's, Karofsky slapped their lips together and parted his, forcing Kurt's lips to part, as well. Not giving Kurt a chance to draw back, Karofsky jabbed his tongue out and pushed it against Kurt's perfectly straight teeth, aware of how good he tasted and how good kissing him made him feel.

He pressed his body against Kurt's and rubbed his pulsating groin against Kurt's—right when the hardest, most muscular fist he had ever felt come in contact with his skin nailed him in the jaw, sending him flying back against the opposite bathroom wall. The punch snapped his eyes open as a fresh flow of blood leaked against his tongue like rusted pennies, and his eyes widened at the sight of a curly haired man staring down at him.

_Oh, fucking hell._

Had it been Kurt standing with the other football and glee guys by the food table? Had Blaine just smelled of Kurt's perfume because he'd been with him all night? Had Blaine been the one waving to those gay boys?

More importantly… had he just tongue kissed Blaine Anderson by accident?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the curly haired man screamed, whipping back around to the mirror and covering his mouth. "You sick pervert, that's disgusting!"

While his victim spat into the sink like an irked kitten and rubbed his finger against his teeth, Karofsky blinked his eyes to clear his vision, more of Blaine's wide shoulders and slender hips coming into focus. "You're not Kurt." He breathed, touching his fingers to his tingling lips. He wasn't sure what about admitting that bothered him more, that he'd just tongue-kissed Blaine Anderson, or that it really turned him on.

"You thought I was _Kurt?_" Blaine spat into the sink again, his face—which was growing more and more clear as the shock of kissing Blaine drained the alcohol from his system—ashy and colorless. "As sickened as I am that you just had your tongue down my throat, I'm not going to tell you again. _Stay. Away. From Kurt._"

"Why?" Karofsky bantered, his blood running cold. A stinging behind his eyes warned him of the tears blurring his vision all over again, and he hoarsely muttered, "Why should you get him? You're not even gay. You've slept with all of those girls. I know you did. Why can't I have someone, Blaine? _I_ deserve happiness. And I want Kurt. He's fucking beautiful, man, and whenever I think about him I can't stop myself from—"

He had about two seconds of reaction time before he caught the line of Blaine's spine stiffening, the color returning in flaming patches to his face and neck. Blaine's fingers tightened on the rim of the sink until his knuckles turned white, then he licked his lips and snapped, "One more word about Kurt and it'll be your last. I've done everything, Karofsky. I've fought you. I've sworn at you. I've threatened you. Then you kiss me and tell me you wanted me to be Kurt. This is Kurt's first homecoming and it means something to him so I won't beat the shit out of you. Yet. I just hope you realize one day that Kurt _is_ mine. He'll always be mine. No matter what you do or say or even if one day you tie him to a bed and rape his brains out, he'll always be mine. So… I'm guessing you're a closeted gay. Looks like we both have a secret, huh? I bet it bugs the shit out of you that I took his virginity and that I've pinned him against that very wall you're leaning against and went down on him. Does that bother you, Karofsky? The fact that you'll _never_ have that intimacy with him? You can imagine all you want, but you'll never do him justice. Like you said, he's just too fucking beautiful for the imagination to even begin to picture. You'll never have him the way I do—"

"Blaine!" The bathroom door burst door open right as Karofsky was preparing to charge down his enemy, but Blaine casually sidestepped and cocked his brow at a panting Finn in the doorway. "Blaine, they—Oh. Um, Karofsky? Were you guys getting ready to fight?"

"No," Shooting Karofsky a knowing glare, Blaine inched past Finn who continued ogling a breathless Karofsky, "We're done here. Where's Kurt?"

Finn awkwardly shut the door behind them, unsure whether to leave a bloody Karofsky panting against the wall or not. But seeing the way Blaine strode out of the bathroom radiating confidence, Finn chose not to argue and practically stepped on his heels catching up to him as he scanned the room. "Don't worry. He's with the others. Sam's keeping him away from the jocks with the rest of the girls. Mike, Tina and Artie left early and Puck is dancing with Lauren. What was going on with you and Karofsky? You looked really… on top of things and… you usually don't—with him, at least. And he was bloody."

Blaine continued scanning, then set his eyes on Kurt who stood hand in hand with Rachel, the two of them squealing and giggling over something amusing. Finn noticed his hardened, pulsing jaw soften instantly, his eyes becoming less piercing and fiery as he watched Kurt and Rachel raise their hands into the air and wiggle their hips, then burst into laughter. Rather than bother answering Finn's concerns, Blaine bit out, "What did you want, Hudson? I need to get Kurt home."

"What did I…?" Chewing his lip, Finn shuffled through the files on his brain for what he had possibly wanted from Blaine, when it hit him over the head and he blurted, "Oh! Yeah! I remember! They need you on the gym stage _now._ You're homecoming king. They've been calling for you. If you don't take it, Azimio will. Santana's the queen."

Automatically Blaine diverted his walk away from the stage, heading straight toward Kurt, "Alright. Let Azimio know he can have it. I don't give a damn about being king. I just want to get Kurt home. Besides, homecoming king always has to dance with the queen, and I don't want to dance with Santana. We're over, remember?"

Desperately Finn lashed out and caught Blaine's wrist, but Blaine instantly tugged away as though burned, "Blaine, _please._ Do you know what accepting this could do to your reputation? You'd be at the top again. Obviously people still respect you enough to vote for you—with or without Kurt. I'm tired of seeing you so miserable. Would you just accept it? You could still leave in ten minutes tops. Burt's cool. I know Burt. A late curfew is the last of his concerns with Kurt."

"Finn," Blaine retorted, jerking away from him, "I'm taking Kurt home _now._ Karofsky's starting to act out and I just want to get Kurt out of here before he realizes it—" Freezing when a spotlight swept over him, Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he whipped around to face the stage.

"Mr. Anderson," Muttered Figgins' weary, heavily accented voice, "Please report to the stage now to accept your crown."

On the stage stood Santana and her runners-up, Quinn and Brittany, to the right of Figgins while on his left stood Blaine's runners-up, Azimio and Rick Nelson, the latter sticking his tongue out and shaking his ass for his fellow hockey team members, who screamed for him from the crowd below. Blaine wanted to know how he dealt with the constant attention without mentally exploding. While Finn pushed him encouragingly toward the stage Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder for Kurt, the only one who could keep his sanity at that point, only to find his pretty lover with his lips parted and eyes round, as though in partial shock and partial fear. He and Rachel still intertwined their fingers between them, drinking in comfort from each other.

As Blaine stepped onto the first stair and realized there was no backing out at this point, he suddenly wanted to grasp onto Finn's shirt and pull him up there with him. A familiar, non-threatening face was all he needed at that moment. Surrounded by his worst enemies, he'd never felt so exposed or judged. "You suck!" Someone screamed from the crowd, and half the other student body burst into laughter at the irony. Blaine closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing and walking. _Left foot… Right foot… Left foot… Right…_ He inhaled another breath sharply.

_Don't let them under your skin, Blaine; please don't let them see weakness._ He motivated himself silently, reopening his eyes and composing his face to be perfectly emotionless, hardened over, judging of the Neanderthals under his feet rather than them judging him. Gazing down at the crowd, he fed through the rows of people staring straight back up at him until he found the one face that truly mattered to him. The devastation and anxiety on Kurt's small, panicked face sent jolts quaking up Blaine's spine, but he forced himself to lock eyes with Kurt as Figgins lowered a heavy, overloaded, plastic crown on his curls, suppressing them in the same way all of those staring eyes were to him.

_I get stared at all the time._ He reminded himself, _On the football field when I'm going for the winning score. Just imagine that I'm there again, and that everyone's rooting me on and Kurt is waiting for me in his adorable cheer outfit for a congratulatory kiss._

Clearly his imagination had blacked out some time between when he stepped on the first stair and then, because his pep talks totally weren't working.

He closed his eyes in hopes of imagining Sectionals night, of finally gaining his confidence on stage and singing aloud with Kurt as he lifted the wiry boy into the air for a finale worthy dance move when—

"… was my boyfriend at the beginning of the year." His eyes popped open again and he glanced at Santana, who appeared to be giving her thank-you speech. "The old Blaine Anderson was the star quarterback at the beginning of the year. The old Blaine Anderson ruled this school. Every girl had a crush on him. Every guy wanted to be him. He once drove drunk to my house one night and banged me so hard I still have the bruises. Don't we all miss that Blaine Anderson? The easy one who put out whenever us girls wanted it, the one who could actually catch a ball—and not one _attached _to a boy, either." She paused for a few low snickers at that. Blaine didn't dare look to Kurt for fear of what he might find expressed on his face. "Then a French hermaphrodite showed up at McKinley. The one who acted so sweet and innocent turned my boyfriend gay. Blaine is risking everything—his friends; his social life; his hot, sexy girlfriend; his football scholarship—to shove his fucking dick up another boy's ass. Before this phase continues, Blaine, let me remind you of what you're missing."

Without sparing another second Santana yanked an unsuspecting Blaine against her, cupped his crotch in her hand, and smashed her face against his. Kicking her leg around his waist, Santana twisted her mouth on Blaine's. With a single slap to his ass followed by a few separated, meek cheers from the perverts in the audience, she tore off him with a sickening, squelching sound as she sucked his lip before releasing him and pushing him back. She gave him a light pat to his chest, "Blaine, you know I'm the hottest things to walk these halls. You're making a mistake. Now, you can have me, your friends, your football and your life back if you agree to ditch the fag. If not, let me give you another taste—this time one of what you'll be facing every day if you don't."

Strutting off the stage, Santana crooked her finger in the air, and Blaine's breath cut short as the entire football team emerged from the back of the gym with cups in their hands. They shoved their minor students aside to form two rows up in front. Blaine's heart pounded a beat faster than it should have. Seconds before he could move aside and dodge the blast, he was slapped from the side with a chilled, harsh, sharp, glassy substance—obviously from Azimio, who had been standing to that side of him. Suddenly, a blinding hurricane hit him like gunshots in a paintball war from two feet away, the icy chunks slashing his face.

Other than what he thought he heard as someone screaming his name from the back of the gym, the gym submerged into a horrifying silence that he knew meant that he—the victim of the Slushies—had _everyone's_ attention. Unsure whether to be more humiliated or hurt from the sore spots from the burning cold ice, Blaine managed to stay surprisingly still as the shock of everything happening so fast hit him at once. Finally he managed to lift his hands to his eyes and wipe away the Slushie to clear his vision, but he almost wished he hadn't. Vision returning, he met the eyes of every open mouthed, stunned student at McKinley High.

Swallowing thickly, he gulped down enough air to last him for another thirty seconds, his body beginning to shake. For what reason—the embarrassment or the cold—he wasn't sure. Abruptly the eyes zeroed in on him peeled away at the raucous at the back of the room, and he followed the shrieking of a high pitched voice to where Finn had his arms around a squirming, sobbing Kurt who slapped at his arms and screamed at all of them that they were horrible monsters. The sight of Kurt's struggle almost made the moment unbearable for Blaine, and remembering how he had walked out on Kurt after seeing him being Slushied while Kurt fought them so hard now for Blaine he blinked away a few burning tears in his eyes.

Unable to take anymore, Blaine searched for his nearest exit and found relief that there was a set of stairs near him and a door towards the front of the gym, so he burst into a run toward it and felt their eyes silently follow him out. He even knew their eyes were still on the door even after he slammed through it and it swung shut behind him.

But to hell with them.

His social life was over.

He was no longer king.

For whatever reason, those thoughts didn't faze him to be the cause of his tears or even why he didn't stop running until he reached the locker rooms by the football bleachers to hide in until homecoming was over. His tears flooded from his eyes for one reason and one reason only. Kurt loved him enough to be the one voice to stand up for him, even though he was well aware that standing up for Blaine would make him a worst target than he already was. And Blaine didn't even have the guts to kiss his one true love in public.

Swinging through the locker room doors, Blaine sank to his knees in front of his locker and let the tears come faster and faster. Normally he hated crying, but today he hated it a little less than he hated himself.

Besides, he had no reputation left. What was the point in hiding anything anymore?

* * *

"Finn, let me _go!_" Kurt shrieked, writhing free of his struggling arms once Finn carried him outside. "How dare you hold me back! Blaine was hurt and I couldn't go to him—!" In a swift move Kurt raised his hand in a slapping form, but Finn caught it before it could make contact with his cheek.

"Kurt, stop!" Finn shouted, grabbing the younger and shorter boy's shoulders to hold him still. "Go get in Blaine's car now! I'm gonna go find him. It's over now so stop crying! Calm down!"

"_No!_" Tearing his hand out of Finn's, Kurt made a move to dart into the darkness after Blaine but Finn snatched him back by his waist.

"Kurt." Rachel laid her hand against the top of his elbow, her voice calmer and more soothing. "Kurt, it's okay. Blaine will be fine. I'm sure the Slushies just startled him. Please, don't go looking for him, though. If they're willing to target Blaine, who knows what they'll do to you if they find you alone. Finn will find Blaine. Come on, let's go to the cars. I'll stay with you."

"This is all my fault," Kurt's covered his strawberry-shaded, tear streaked face with his fists and weakly swayed, "If only I hadn't ever come here, Blaine wouldn't be going through this. He's going to hate me. Finn, I _have_ to talk to him. You don't understand. Let me go. Everyone's inside. Even Karofsky. I saw him with Azimio before we came out here. Please, I can't just leave him. And I know where he is."

Finn's jaw locked as he stared down into Kurt's determined face, his blue eyes bright and burning. At last, though, he recalled how he would feel if someone acted as a roadblock to keep Rachel from him, so he hesitantly released Kurt's wrist. He nodded his head, "Fine, but I'm staying here. If I hear anything out of the ordinary, I'm coming to find you. You have ten minutes."

Without argument but more relief for his freedom, Kurt tore off into the darkness in the direction of the locker rooms. After the brutal Slusheing Kurt suspected that Blaine was pretty much through with him, but he still wanted a chance to explain… to apologize… and maybe hope for a goodbye-hope-you-have-a-good-life-without-me kiss. If anything, he wanted Blaine to be able to look him in the eye and press his lips against his. Even though he was well aware that Santana had diseased Blaine's lips with her own germs not five minutes ago. More tears leaked out of his eyes at the thought of all of those happenings being thrown onto Blaine because of _him._ Because he just couldn't bring himself to leave the straight boy. Blaine had wrapped all around and through his heart, and a goodbye with him would be like amputating his heart then expecting to live without it.

Impossible.

Painful.

And these were the thoughts that terrorized his mind during his last few minutes as Blaine's _boyfriend._

He almost wanted to slow his footsteps to make his last few minutes with Blaine's heart as long as possible, but before he could come to a stop he came face-to-face with the door to the boys' locker room. Even though he didn't like it in there—as it always stunk of body odor, jockey straps, and blood and sweat, he forced himself to push open the door and he quietly slipped inside.

Within seconds a gruff, hoarse voice growled, "Whoever the fuck you are, I'm already soaked in Slushie. You can't do much worse than this to me."

Licking his lips, Kurt rounded the corner and discovered Blaine against a wall, his knees to his chest and his chin resting on them, his arms lassoing his shins as though cradling himself because no one else would. His bloodshot eyes leaked the occasional tear as Slushie chunks dripped off of his curls, landing in his soaked lap and around his legs. His light blue undershirt had turned a splotchy, grape purple from the red dye. His boutonniere lay beside his hip safely, but the flowers had already been through the mill. A couple of the petals had fallen off from the Slushie blows, and the rest were dyed an unruly, plum purple. Blaine's fingers obsessively stroked the stem of the flower, even though his face was directed away from it.

A single tear flirted with the rim of Kurt's eye, but he brushed it away and stepped toward Blaine, who—as the first time Kurt had ever rescued Blaine out of a harsh situation—locked his calloused, cold eyes to the floor, his chapped lips trembling out of either the cold or his tears. "Blaine," Kurt whispered, lowering to his knees beside him, "Blaine, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault and I'm so, so sorry—"

"You didn't ask for this to happen." Blaine muttered, still fiddling with the petals. "This isn't your fault."

"_Yes,_ it is," Kurt insisted and touched Blaine's arm. At last, a pair of golden eyes lifted to his face, revealing a scratch mark from the ice on his cheek. Swallowing thickly, Kurt covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head, "I got you into _all_ of this. Because I'm gay and I wanted you and it was so wrong to put a straight boy in this position. I'm going to tell everyone this is my fault and you want your life back—"

"But I don't."

"—and I'm going to leave you alone from now on. You'll get everything back. I've never—" Kurt's voice halted, and he sat up straighter as it donned on him what Blaine had said, "Wait… you _don't_ want all of those things Santana offered? Your reputation is so important to you, though—"

Blaine scooted an inch closer to Kurt, reluctantly wrapping him in his arms as though attempting to keep his Slushied suit from brushing Kurt's skin. Melting into Blaine, anyway, Kurt snuggled into Blaine's soaked chest despite how beautiful his dress might be. "There's only one thing in the world that's important to me, Kurt. You, angel. I ran out because… I saw the devastation in your face and I could hear you screaming, and I realized how wrong I was the day Karofsky and Azimio Slushied you. I never should have left you. I was actually scared of… facing you. After Santana kissed me. I didn't set that up, I promise you—"

"I wasn't mad about that." Kurt lifted himself up and gazed at Blaine in the eye, spotting the sincerity behind his golden gaze, "I trust you. I… was scared you would leave me after realizing what you'll have to go through to be with me. I've gotten used to all of that, but I don't want you to hate me because of those things you'll deal with every day."

"Are you insane?" Blaine smirked at Kurt, smoothing his tousled hair, "I'm more worried about you running me dry with one of your shopping trips or that you'll realize I'm totally not fashion-forward and leave me than I am about facing any shit that I'll get at school. Angel, I love you. Nothing anyone in the world could do to me would make me stop loving you."

Kurt sighed and pressed his face into Blaine's warm neck, drinking in his strong heartbeat under his ear, "Well, if you're worried about your fashion sense making me leave you, I'm still here with you now, aren't I? You and your purple outfit. It's a statement, at least."

Blaine snorted at that, then gestured to the spots of red Slushie dripping onto Kurt's perfect, six hundred dollar dress, "Well, look at you! You're _spotted!_"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck and snuggled deeper into his warmth, "That's the problem, because I don't think you realize that _I_ can make anything runway. _Men._ You can't have _any_ of your outfits judged by them. Blaine, in the case that my dad is waiting up for us, we should probably… not look this way when we walk in my door. I'm going to wash my face and try to get these stains out of your clothes. Take them off and run your hair under the shower. Finn said he'll be back in ten minutes to check on us but I'll lock the door."

Blaine's brows hit his hairline as Kurt popped to his feet, "You mean… take my clothes off and get in the shower… here? Now? Kurt, I can just drop you off, hit a shower at my place then drive back to your place. I've never actually… showered in here before. The idea of other guys seeing me is very… disgusting."

Kurt placed his hands on his hips, "Yes, well, I'm the only other _guy_ here. So, give me your clothes."

Groaning, Blaine started on the buttons on his overcoat, sliding it off his shoulders and passing it up to Kurt who folded it over his arm. He stripped of his button up shirt next, which left his chest bare then started on his dress pants. After kicking his shoes and socks off he pushed his pants and boxers to the floor then rose to his feet. Kurt blinked at him, his cheeks flushing as Blaine passed the last of his clothes over then walked bare ass over to the showers.

He stepped inside one of the stalls and twisted a few knobs around until a stream of warm water coated his icy skin, washing away bits of ice and syrup. Shivering, he reached up to his hair and pushed his heavy locks off his face, tilting his head back so his chocolate curls got the most of the spray. He heard Kurt twist on a faucet in the sink then the sound of water gushing against clothing, followed by scrubbing.

"Babe," Blaine murmured above both running water sources, "what the hell am I supposed to wear while my clothes dry?"

Kurt took a minute to reply, and for a second Blaine thought he didn't hear him until Kurt replied softly, "Don't you have something in your locker from football? Like a jersey? What's your combination?"

"Your birth year," Blaine replied automatically, and Kurt quietly padded across the floor toward Blaine's locker. From his position in the shower and with the curtain open he could see Kurt twisting the lock around. The lock snapped open so Kurt began shuffling through his padding, an empty water bottle, and a couple of school books, but Blaine couldn't concentrate on that. His eyes—like any boy's would—drifted downward to the sweet curve of Kurt's arse, round and perky underneath his dress, and he shifted his weight as his cock churned between his thighs. Responding to Kurt's sexy body, he felt his cock and sac tighten stiffly at the thought of placing his hands on either of Kurt's hips and drilling in and out of him, both of them screaming and writhing deliciously.

Kurt knelt down to search the lower half of his locker, and the skirt of his dress peeled up a little to reveal his spankies and the bottoms of his arse. A helpless victim, Blaine glanced down to his lower body at his cock poking at his belly button, and silently he wrapped his fingers around it. Pumping himself twice, Blaine bit the inside of his cheek to hold down a moan and tightened his grip, his mind flashing back to earlier that night when Kurt had knelt between his thighs like a sexy little vixen and took him between those pretty, pink lips of his. The memory cascaded a veil of sleepy pleasure over him. He pumped again, and his tip dribbled.

"Oh, look!" Kurt cried out, holding up a small sheet of waxy paper, "You have a picture of me in your locker? Blaine, I found your jersey and a pair of—" Kurt spat the next word, "—stirrup pants. It looks as though we'll be in here for a while until your clothes dry. Are you about finished?" Kurt peeked over his shoulder unexpectedly, and before Blaine could lower his hand and hide his stiff cock from Kurt, Kurt's eyes became huge and his mouth fell open.

Blaine spun towards the wall, flashing Kurt a bold image of his ass. "Give me a minute, okay? I'll be done soon. Thank you for finding my—"

"Blaine," Kurt's breathy voice served only to turn him on harder, and he could hear Kurt rising to his feet, "Were you just… masturbating while you were looking at me?"

"No."

"I saw your hand," Kurt reminded him, "Why were you masturbating?"

He winced, his mouth tightening. Coming up with no sufficient excuse other than Kurt's sexy body, he opened his mouth to garble through some sort of answer when the sound of a zipper tugging alerted him. He continued facing the wall as he listened to the sound of cloth rustling against skin, then heard something drop to the floor and glimpsed over his shoulder. His jaw snapped to the floor.

There Kurt stood not a foot away from him lifting his dress over his head, his tights already on the floor. He dropped the pretty dress to the floor, his body glowing and naked under the dim lights of the locker room. Still shy about nudity, Kurt licked his lips and flushed in the cheeks and neck, wrapping his arms around himself as though trying to salvage the last of his humility. "May I join you?" he whispered, not out to be seductive but truly curious about whether or not Blaine wanted him to join the shower.

All Blaine could do was faintly nod his head, his eyes trained on how gorgeous Kurt was. With clothes he was more beautiful than an angel. Without them he was almost painful to look at, as though every man was meeting his dream lover and he wasn't even sure if he was real or not, if he would fade away the second he was touched. Still unsure about whether to enter the steaming shower or not, Kurt shifted from foot to foot and darted his eyes to the floor. Realizing how uncomfortable Kurt was, Blaine instantly stepped out of his shower and pressed his hands to Kurt's hips. In one swift move he lifted Kurt against his chest, and Kurt looped his arms and legs around Blaine's neck and waist.

Blaine stumbled a little on his way back to the shower, soaking in how good Kurt felt naked and slippery against him. Kurt's hands slid down Blaine's muscular back and he pressed his face into Blaine's neck, his eyes fluttering shut. Cupping Kurt's dimpled arse in his hands, Blaine boosted him a little higher and whispered gently in his ear, "It's okay, sweetheart. Don't be nervous. You're so beautiful, Kurt. I'm the luckiest man in the world."

Kurt blinked when Blaine's bobbing arousal brushed the bottom of his thigh, and he tightened his legs. Panting just from holding a naked Kurt against him, Blaine backed against the wall so the warm spray hit Kurt's cool, pale body against his back. Kurt stretched himself out and made a sound of soft approval at the spray, worming his body this way and that to have it pinpoint his sorer, knotted areas. Blaine made a mental note to have a spa-sexy day with Kurt just to lay his lover down and massage his body for hours on end, but sometimes take breaks for sex because there was no freaking way Blaine could control himself for hours of just touching Kurt's naked body that he wouldn't end up wanting to grind him into the bed, too.

Leaning all the way back and locking his hands on Blaine's strong shoulders, Kurt parted his lips in a moan as the water drizzled over his neck and chest, dripping down into the crevice where their bodies met at their abdomens. Anxiously Blaine slid his hands up Kurt's small, smooth back and he bent his neck to nuzzle his lips into one of Kurt's pink, tight nipples where a few water droplets had gathered. Kurt whimpered and bucked, encouraging Blaine for more. Not forcedly, Blaine lapped his tongue out over the nipple and sucked the small nipple into his mouth, holding it gently between his teeth. He suckled carefully and lifted one hand off Kurt's back in favor of touching a finger into Kurt's belly button, a surprising place that really got Kurt going.

He pressed his damp finger into the hole and tickled the spot, his other fingers gently scraping along the outside of the hole. Kurt tossed his head back with a breathless whimper, and he reached down to grasp onto Blaine's much larger hand. Spreading his legs further apart, Kurt selfishly directed Blaine's fingers towards his spread buttocks. Blaine chose to tease the impatient boy at first, sliding his fingers up to Kurt's back and stroking a small, circle pattern into his skin. Kurt cried out and desperately urged his hips into Blaine's. Their cocks rubbed together and a blast of heat shot through the very underneath of Blaine's skin.

Seeing that his lover wasn't ready to mess around this time, Blaine stroked his finger through Kurt's crack and rubbed it against the hole. Kurt gasped and pressed down, and only because Blaine's finger resembled a wrinkled, soaked prune did it slip in just barely past his thumb hole. "Please…" Kurt begged softly, his eyes slightly crossing in the midst of his pleasure, "Please, Blaine. Please. I need—_Please._"

Blaine released his lover from his chains holding him back and pressed in past the first ring of muscle, causing Kurt's mouth to fall open and his eyes to darken lustfully. No longer a virgin, Kurt accepted the finger much better than he did the first few weeks so Blaine positioned another at his entrance. With hesitation he pushed it in, and Kurt threw his head back with a low moan, his hands clutching to Blaine's sides. Perspiration popped up at Blaine's hair roots, his cock dripping onto the shower floor and he knew he couldn't take much more of Kurt clawing at his skin or moaning without exploding his load too early.

Wedging his fingers deeper, Blaine skillfully hunted down Kurt's prostate and brushed against the nub. Kurt's toes curled, and his fingers nearly ripped Blaine's skin open. "_Oh,_" Kurt closed his eyes, so Blaine rubbed his finger against the nub again and again, his fingers growing faster as they delved in and out of Kurt. After a minute Kurt's eyes popped open and he gasped, "Wait, I'm close! Blaine, _please._ I want you—please, I want you inside me—"

"Shh…" Blaine gasped, because if Kurt kept begging him like that there was no way he'd be able to hang on, "baby, hold on. I'll take care of you." Slipping his fingers out with a noisy pop, Blaine clutched Kurt's arse in his hand while he reached for his cock to position himself. He lifted his cock up and it slid against Kurt's, which made both of them hiss and groan, until Blaine finally positioned his balmy tip against Kurt's tight hole.

Kurt pressed himself onto Blaine's tip, and Blaine tossed his head with a low growl as his tip was sucked inside of Kurt. Leaning against the wall to keep his shaky legs from giving out, Blaine firmed up his hands and clutched onto Kurt tighter as he pressed another inch inside. Kurt trembled against him, his buttocks sealing around Blaine's steel cock. "Blaine," he gasped, tears springing from his eyes, "more… more. Harder. I want _you!_"

Blaine jerked himself in another two inches, his body starting to shudder. "Fuck, I'm close, baby!" He tilted his face toward the spray of the shower, but the warm water drenching his skin did nothing to kill off his early climax.

"_Blaine!_" Kurt screamed and clawed at his side, his head thrashing from side to side, "Please! Please! I'm close!"

Sealing his eyes shut, Blaine pounded the rest of his eight inches into Kurt's tight hole and slammed into his prostate, and Kurt released a high pitched scream as his walls closed tight around Blaine. Blaine's vision flashed white and he pressed himself against the wall, desperately trying not to fall on a shuddering, pink-skinned Kurt. He released his load inside of Kurt, some spilling out onto Kurt's pearly-smooth thighs that jerked and trembled with the rest of his body, trying not to slip off Blaine even as steaming water poured down on the them.

At last, the shudders and jerks receded to shivering from both of them, and Kurt peeled his hands off of Blaine's reddened sides. He inched his body into a sitting up position in Blaine's arms, ducking his head into Blaine's neck as he finished out the last of his climax. Unable to believe such mind-blowingly good sex existed, especially after such a hard blow at homecoming, Blaine peeled Kurt off his chest to gaze at his blue, uncertain eyes straight on. Breathlessly he gasped, "I love you."

Kurt licked his lips in reply, but he leaned in anyway and brushed his lips across Blaine's, "I love you, too. Y-You take my breath away, Blaine, with everything you do."

Blaine smiled at his pretty lover, pulling him out of the direct spray and tugging a towel from one of the shower racks. Using one arm to hold Kurt up by his ass, Blaine gently scrubbed the towel through Kurt's hair and tugged it away, watching his hair stick straight up with the towel. Thinking of how adorable Kurt looked, Blaine pressed his face against Kurt's and brushed his lips over Kurt's ear, "You're beautiful." He whispered in the tiny shell, and he carried Kurt over to the sinks to set him down and dress him in his jersey and his spankies, just to see what he would look like in anything less than his designer clothing.

And he looked perfect.

* * *

Kurt held his hands over the heater in Blaine's car, unable to believe that despite the big bang they had gone out with for the night, he and Blaine were still surprisingly intact. In fact, Kurt felt better than he had in a long time. No more worrying that Blaine didn't love him with everything he had. It could just be them, the gay boy and the straight boy who acted half-bi. Kurt mentally giggled at the idea, but he swatted away his smile before Blaine could question him. Tonight he didn't want questions. He just wanted to curl up in Blaine's arms and drink in every second he had with him.

Noticing that they were on their road, Kurt happily wiggled in his seat and watched his house, counting the number of lights on to see if his dad was still up and, luckily, he wasn't. He didn't have to waste any time getting into Blaine's arms again. Willing the car to continue forward, Kurt plopped back in his seat when Blaine spun the wheel into a daring right turn, pulling into his own driveway at his six hundred thousand dollar home.

"Blaine…" Kurt shot Blaine a significant look, "What are you doing? I thought you were sleeping at my house. Is this your way of breaking things off with me, by making me walk home? If I wasn't pleasuring in the locker room I can change things—"

"Kurt." Blaine keyed his car off, keeping his free arm wrapped around Kurt as he rubbed the nape of his neck, "If there's one thing about you that I'll always love, it's your theatrical side. You always have a way of making things more dramatic than they are, and I adore that about you. Baby, my parents are out of town this week with Cooper. I was thinking maybe you could come see my house for the first time. And sleep here tonight."

Kurt's heart did a funny flip in his chest. This would be his second sleepover ever at someone else's house, and with the most attractive boy he'd ever met. Unaware of his wide eyed, flushing expression that Blaine chuckled at as he smoothed his thumb over Kurt's warm cheek, Kurt swallowed, "What about my dad? He'll worry about me."

"Yes, but your dad trusts me," Blaine unclipped his seatbelt, "You could call him but it looks like he's already asleep. The lights are out. I'll call him in the morning before you even wake up and explain everything to him. It's homecoming night, Kurt, the night to be adventurous. Stay with me tonight. I'd offer to loan you everything you need but I doubt you'll need more than a tooth brush. Pajamas won't be necessary tonight."

Kurt's eyes widened even further, "But we just… in the locker room… Don't you just want to sleep tonight?"

Blaine rolled his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious, "Kurt, you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. You're gorgeous, actually. Every part of you turns me on. And I think you need it."

"I need it?" Kurt questioned, still not understanding. "What kind of person… needs… sex? I didn't think anyone could ever need it."

"You do," Blaine muttered lowly, unbuckling Kurt's seatbelt for him and pressing a kiss on his nose as he leaned over, "You need your body loved and touched by a man's hands—specifically mine. You'll thank me later. Now, sit still." Stepping out of the car, Blaine left Kurt blank faced and utterly in the dark as Blaine swept around the car to the other side. Pulling Kurt's door open, Blaine slid his arms inside and tucked them under Kurt's shoulder blades and thighs, but Kurt grasped down on his hand with huge eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Again, Blaine rolled his eyes and started scooting Kurt out of the car, "I'm loving you, that's what. Put your arms around my neck, sweetheart."

Kurt obediently did as he was told, eyeing the ground as Blaine carried him up his pathway to his massive, glass front door. Tucking Kurt against him, Blaine pulled a key from his pocket and awkwardly wedged it into the lock, twisting then pulling out. He beat down his smirk at how many wrong ideas popped into his head as he tucked the key away again. "Baby, I'm going to get you your own key to my house. Alright? That way if you ever need me and I'm not right there at your side, you can find me anyway."

Blinking, Kurt watched Blaine swing the door open then kick it closed behind them. "But won't your parents think I'm breaking in if I just come over?"

"They're never home," Blaine muttered, "Neither am I because I'm always with you, but I'd rather you have the key, anyway. Besides, if I were to want anyone to break into my house, it'd be you. Well… this is it. My multi-million dollar house." Grimacing at the idea, Blaine flicked a few light switches on and slowly set Kurt to his feet. Kurt stuck to Blaine's side as the living room, kitchen, hallway and stairway lights all kicked on, and his mouth parted in awe as they did. Despite the actual house just being worth a little over six hundred thousand, the interior was well worth the multi-million.

While Kurt observed the interior Blaine typed a code into a security system before it started beeping then shut the flap. He turned and watched Kurt with every step he took, his eyes gazing at the sun roof at least forty feet high into the air, tall beams holding the ceiling up. Designed as a casual-modern home, the carpets were the usual all-white while the furniture featured black leather couches and love seats facing a one hundred thousand dollar flat screen built into the wall, hooked up with surround sound hearing, basically all of the most modern gaming systems despite the fact that Cooper was the only one who ever played and he was never home, and at least three different DVD players, one to replace the last one when it broke, and all with different kinds of layouts for the movie.

The kitchen also featured crystal white flooring and any appliances a normal kitchen would have, just the latest and most upgraded versions. Kurt wandered through the kitchen to the dining room, which held a twelve seated table arrangement they never used except with company, and old pictures hung on the wall of famous actresses—because his mother had once wanted to be an actress. Discovering the basement, Kurt glanced at Blaine in questioning, but Blaine muttered, "My brother's man cave. His bedroom was upstairs like mine, but he lived down there more. I'll show you my room."

Automatically taking Kurt's slender hand in his, Blaine guided him back through the house and to the stairway. He nudged Kurt onto it first and followed him up. They passed his parent's bedroom and bathroom first, so he pointed those out to Kurt but kept leading him down until he reached the very end of the hall, where he showed Kurt the bathroom he used to share with Coop but had recently claimed as his own when Coop moved to California then started using his parents' bathroom at visits. He nudged Kurt into the last room in the hallway and opened the door, flipping on the lights for Kurt. Half nervous of what Kurt might think of his simple, easy-to-do room, Blaine stayed behind while Kurt walked into the interior.

The bedroom carpeting was also a simple white, soft under the feet, and his walls were a plain gray. A low-rise, king sized bed was covered in a simple, sleek, black blanket with black and gray pillows decorating the top of the bed. On his dark wash, wine colored dresser lay a few pictures of him with Coop, one of him alone, three with Kurt and two of Kurt alone, the one of Kurt dreamily staring at the camera with loving eyes and a slight smile curved to his lips with his hands folded under his chin the one that was closest to and facing his bed. He wouldn't admit it to Kurt but when he actually did sleep or lay in his bed, he'd lay facing that picture and gaze at it for hours, never growing tired of those shining, blue eyes.

His closet was a minimal space, about three feet by six feet and held his clothes neatly, and only a bin of old things from his childhood sat at the bottom of it. The only real amusements in his room were his built-in flat screen TV, though not as nice as the one downstairs, and his computer, though he mostly just did schoolwork on that. A blown up picture of a California beach at sunset was the only art in Blaine's room—besides his egg shell, black, spinning chair that he never really used but Coop had always had a blast spinning around in when he was younger until he threw up his lunch in the toilet. For a moment he wished he had spent just a little more time in decorating his room so Kurt wouldn't think Blaine was paled out or anything compared to his own flamboyant style.

Clearing his throat, Blaine massaged the nape of his neck and Kurt spun around, "Um… It's okay if you don't like it. I know it's really plain but I'm never in here, anyway, and I've never brought anyone home before—"

Kurt blinked his blue eyes a few times, then stepped towards Blaine and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, pressing his cheek into his chest, "Thank you for letting me be the first." He whispered tightly, his eyes squeezing shut. "I love it. It's very you."

Blaine fondly embraced Kurt around his waist and swayed him back and forth, "I'm glad you like it, angel. I'm really glad you're the first, too. You need to use my bathroom for anything? I'll just be in here."

"Um…" Kurt flushed, growing strangely timid, "I'd like to brush my teeth and do my nightly facial… if you don't mind."

"Sure, angel," Blaine was partially relieved that Kurt had things to do before they could go to bed. That would give Blaine plenty of time to freshen up. "Spare toothbrushes are in the cabinets above the sink on the third shelf. You can use my toothpaste. It's on the second shelf behind the razors. I hope you don't mind mint. And the soaps are below the sink by my lube."

The mention of lube brightened Kurt's cheeks to a flaming red, and he whispered so softly Blaine almost didn't catch it, "Do you… Do you want me to bring the lube back with me?"

"That'd probably be best," Blaine smoothed his thumbs over Kurt's cheeks again, pressing a light kiss to his mouth, "We've done it the natural way too many times, I'm afraid of hurting you, sweetheart. I'm shocked you still don't have that adorable little waddle you had for the week after I took your virginity."

Kurt shivered and peeled himself away from Blaine, his lip caught between his teeth, "I'm going to go… take care of things. I'll bring back the lube." Stepping toward the doorway, Kurt paused for a minimal second and glanced back at Blaine, "Blaine, wait… Will your parents be here in the morning?"

Blaine shook his head, fingering his spirally curls, "No, baby. They'll be back next Saturday. Kurt, everything's going to be fine. Even if they would be here in the morning, they'd just have to accept that I want to share… my life with you. You're a part of it now. There's nothing they can do about that."

Nodding his head but still appearing uncertain, Kurt headed into the hallway and left Blaine to strip from his own clothes. He sighed and tugged at the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. He tossed it casually aside and followed up with pushing his pants and boxers to the floor, then kicking his shoes off. The few ice burns on his skin reminded him of the scene that had gone down only over two hours ago, so he figured that while Kurt was prepping himself for tonight he could check his phone. Lowering onto his bed, Blaine picked up his phone and flipped it open, his brows cocking at the five texts and seven missed calls popping up on his screen, two of them with the addition of urgent voicemails.

He opened the first text from Rachel, _Blaine, Kurt won't answer his phone. Please reply. We're worried!_

The next text was from Finn, right around the time Blaine and Kurt had walked to his car, _Is Kurt with you? I went to the locker rooms but the doors were locked and you wouldn't answer! Reply now._

The rest of the texts—each from Rachel and Finn—revolved around the same ordeal, so he figured he'd call both of them in the morning and explain the situation. Kurt needed him now and there was no way he'd spend the next two hours of his time with Kurt pacing his bedroom while Rachel blabbed in his ear about how he should have called, how she was so worried, how she and Finn had had no idea where Kurt was.

Closing his eyes, Blaine prepared to flop back on his bed and groan about how annoying his friends could be when the door creaked open again, exposing Kurt wrapped only in a maroon towel from his chest to his hips. He hugged the towel tighter at Blaine's foul expression as he turned his phone off and threw it aside, hoping it landed on a dresser or something of the sorts. "Are you okay?" Kurt whispered, shutting the door back behind him despite the fact that no one else was home. "Do you still—?"

"Yes," Blaine blurted, not wanting Kurt to think he dreaded it, "Of course I do, angel. I was just…" He wouldn't dare say it was Rachel's annoying self because then Kurt would focus on getting her worries settled, so he decided on, "thinking. It's not you, baby. Come here. You look so frightened. Let me take care of you."

Kurt stepped further into the room, unfolding the towel as he neared Blaine and he finally released it. It clumped to the floor in a heap at his feet. Holding his arms out, Blaine scooped Kurt into them and gently lowered him onto his lap. Kurt instantly curled himself up to hide his exposed body as Blaine slid them further up the bed, laying Kurt against the pillows. Sitting up to admire the precious body laid beside his hip, Blaine lifted his eyes to Kurt's flushed face and noticed his fingers digging into the blankets nervously, his legs tight together. He carefully touched his hand to one of Kurt's flaming cheeks, rubbing his knuckles across the soft skin. "Spread, sweetheart," he whispered to Kurt, laying his other hand against Kurt's white, soft thigh. "Come on, angel. Open for me. I'm going to be gentle with you."

Shyly Kurt split his legs apart, his hips wriggling uncomfortably and Blaine casually lifted himself into the cradle Kurt's legs formed. He figured that since he and Kurt had sex so recently, the French boy might need a breather before starting up again. Besides, Blaine's thighs were still flaming from nailing Kurt earlier, so he snatched up the lube bottle Kurt had brought in with him and snapped open the cap. Holding Kurt's eyes with his, Blaine slid his finger inside the tube and twisted it this way and that, coating it in the goo.

He set the tube aside after glopping his finger up fairly well and bent between Kurt's thighs, using his free hand to spread one of his ass cheeks and expose the cherry red hole within. Kurt's knees began drawing up, but Blaine swiftly placed a comforting hand on Kurt's naked stomach, "Shh… baby. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm going to make you feel better."

Kurt pursed his lips and stilled his shifting limbs, his body flattening to the bed. Blaine returned to his arse and touched his slickened finger to the hole within his ass cheeks. He swiveled his finger around the puckered hole, and Kurt helplessly arched his hips towards the ceiling with a soft sound of pleasure. Scratching his nail over it, Blaine lightly pressed the tip of his finger in. Kurt shifted his hips, angling his ass so Blaine's finger only slid in further. "Damn, baby," Blaine praised softly, "you're so warm and tight." He straightened his finger out and pushed in further. Kurt's mouth fell open and his eyes squeezed shut as he hummed out an approving noise, his hand unconsciously curling around Blaine's.

"Angel," Blaine brushed a fallen hair off of Kurt's damp forehead, "you're so beautiful like this. I love giving you pleasure. Say my name, Kurt. Tell me who's giving you pleasure."

Pushing further in, Blaine strummed the pad of his finger across Kurt's prostate and the boy flushed, his legs and hips trembling. Kurt curled his toes and they accidentally bit into a few of the hairs on Blaine's legs, painfully tugging them. His nails scraped and clawed Blaine's shoulder, but Blaine didn't give a damn or hardly notice. Watching Kurt in pleasure was worth any hellish pain. Blaine wedged his finger deeper, nailing the prostate straight on and Kurt cried out weakly, his body rocking with every spasm of desire rolling through him.

Blaine lifted up on side of his torso, one shoulder still resting against the damp mattress, and he ghosted his lips over Kurt's belly button. The boy underneath released an anxious moan, his ass muscles squeezing around Blaine's submerged finger. "Say my name, angel. Say it or I'll stop. Open your eyes. I want you to see me when you come."

Kurt blinked a few times before his hazy eyes slit open and, noticing the gruel pleasure mixed with pain expression on Blaine's face, he rocked his hips on Blaine's hand, sinking his finger deeper. Rising above Kurt, Blaine brushed his lips over Kurt's and twisted his finger inside of him. Kurt's skin darkened to a rosy pink. Blaine hesitated and started drawing out much to his grief, though, and Kurt's eyes flew open wide. "Wait," he gasped, clawing at Blaine's back as tears spurted from his eyes, "Please, don't stop! Please… I-I need…"

Blaine lapped his tongue across Kurt's lips, hushing him. "You know what I want, baby. You know I can make you come. Do it, baby. Say my name, angel. Kurt…" Crooking his finger less than a centimeter, he groaned as Kurt's abdomen contracted and the French boy released a high sound. His head tossed back against the pillow but he continued gazing at Blaine, desperately willing him to finish him off.

Blaine slid his palm down Kurt's stomach to his tightened cock and palmed him gently, aware of the clamps on his finger coming in faster and harder waves. Stubbornly Kurt sealed his mouth shut as to not let Blaine win the war, but just as Blaine kissed him so gently and softly on the corner of his mouth a floodgate of fire broke open inside of Kurt and he exploded with a high pitched scream, higher than anything Blaine had ever heard escape his mouth before. "Blaine!" He cried out, hips thrashing against the sheets. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, and he drove his ass hole down on to Blaine's hand firmly, so his entire finger was engulfed inside and wedged up against Kurt's prostate, "Harder! Harder! Blaine, please!"

Blaine's free hand, coated in the liquid fire of Kurt's pre-cum, squeezed around Kurt's cock. "Oh, shit… Breathe, baby. Breathe through it. I want to make you feel so good. Look at me, Kurt. Open your eyes, sweetheart." Twisting his finger around completely, he drilled it into Kurt's prostate as Kurt threw his head back onto Blaine's shoulder and let out two shaky breaths before sinking into the dark oblivion as he came down from his high.

Whimpering, Kurt dropped onto the pillows and curled onto his side, so Blaine followed him up and popped his finger out of Kurt. He lay behind Kurt and wrapped his arms around his waist, his own cock pressed up against Kurt's curved, full arse. "You teased me. I thought you were going to stop."

Blaine nuzzled the top of Kurt's head, pressing a kiss to the crown of it, "Shh…" He rested his fist against Kurt's abdomen, rubbing circles against the hairless spot. "I would never leave you like that. That'd be cruel. I just wanted to make it better, angel, and it was. I liked hearing you say my name during orgasm. It's like… you _knew_ that I was there instead of sex just being… sex."

Snuggling back into Blaine's chest, Kurt drew his knees up and curled back into his ball, "It's supposed to mean something? Did you want it to mean anything with Santana and Quinn? Or just me?"

At first Blaine grew defensive at the mentioning of his exes, but then he realized that Kurt wasn't being harsh with him at all, merely curious as to what Blaine meant. Clearing his throat again, he took Kurt's hips in his hands and lightly flipped him over to face Blaine. He smoothed Kurt's hair off his forehead and wrapped an arm around his waist, "Sweetheart… you know that Santana and Quinn were… mistakes. I've never once been attracted to either of them. They were just… things that happened and I regret ever sleeping with them. Baby, sex with you is different than what it ever was with them. I'm so attracted to you, Kurt, that sometimes I'm afraid I'll lose control and hurt you. We obviously love each other and that changes the ballgame with sex. Sex just isn't… sex anymore. We make love, Kurt. That's what sex with you is. You're so pure, angel. You were so innocent when we met and you gave me something that I'm responsible for taking care of. I took your virginity and… I kind of like the idea of holding you on a pedestal and caring for you during sex so carefully because you're so… untainted. Kurt, you have no idea what it's like to have bad sex. I mean, maybe I've been bad in bed sometimes but I try to treat you right and I've always given you everything I can. I don't want you to dread sex the way I did for a long time. I want you to find a husband who treats you so good in bed and pays attention to what you want. Until you're married I'm always going to take care of you in bed."

Kurt gazed lovingly up at Blaine, and whispered in a soft, sweet voice that sent Blaine reeling, "What changed your mind, Blaine, about dreading sex?"

Blaine blinked down at Kurt, then tilted his head down and gently pressed his lips against the younger boy's, and Kurt sighed dreamily, "You." He muttered against his mouth and Kurt flushed from his head to his toes, "Holding you in my arms is like… holding an angel, Kurt. You're so beautiful. Like a pretty little jewel. You're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen in my life. The first time I saw you all I could think about is what it would be like to wake up beside you and see your pretty blue eyes gazing up at me and feel your tousled hair against my chest and know that your gorgeous lips were smiling up at me… then what it would be like to kiss them. Now that I have kissed you and do wake up beside you… it doesn't feel real. Things are never this good for me." Blowing out heavily, Blaine rolled until he pinned Kurt under him and the French boy willingly sacrificed his body to Blaine, lying supple and limply while Blaine suspended his weight off of Kurt by resting on his elbows. A few dark curls swung down and tickled Kurt's pink cheeks, so he tucked the strands behind his ears. "What about you, baby? What did you think the first time _you_ saw _me?_"

Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck, kicking his legs around his waist. "The first time I saw you…" Pursing his lips together, Kurt smoothed his hand over the dark patch of curls decorating Blaine's chest, "I thought you were the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. Even more so than the men in those Calvin Klein muscle men magazines my modeling company sold. You fascinated me. At least… you did until I found out you were a straight homophobe—"

Blaine rolled his eyes with a hearty sigh, "Kurt, you know I'm—"

"Blaine." Kurt pressed a kiss to his nose, "I know differently now. But that doesn't change the thoughts I had of you when you sent your friends out to get me. I did doubt you, Blaine—that day especially—but I still… couldn't fully hate you. I wanted to, but I didn't. You just… always acted so differently from Azimio and Karofsky. It seemed as if it nearly pained you to be cruel to me."

"It did," Blaine muttered, flicking his eyes away from Kurt's face, "That day in the library… I wanted to stay with you. It made me sick to see you cry that way. I wanted to hold you the exact way I am right now. But I still had a _reputation_ and decided to leave the most beautiful boy on the face of the earth in tears, which turned out to be one of the stupidest things I've ever done. Had I known I'd be here with you now, like this, back then, I would have just swung you over my shoulder and carried you off to a place where we could be alone. Always."

Kurt shivered, his heart and stomach quaking, his abdomen growing hot at the lusty affections Blaine was admitting. Nibbling Blaine's earlobe, Kurt pressed a kiss into the curve, "I know somewhere only we know." Boldly he slid his leg around Blaine's waist, and Blaine didn't take more than two seconds to catch on as he rolled across the bed with Kurt in his arms, the two of them tuning the world out and focusing in totally on each other.

It was the one place either one of them felt truly happy.

If only it could have lasted forever.


	21. Not the Boy Next Door

Author's note: Hey, my wonderful readers :) So... as far as my outline goes, this chapter wasn't even supposed to happen. I have no idea where it came from but... I'm really warming up to it. I'm really nervous about the turn-out because of how complicated it was to write this and how much editing went into it, but hopefully it sits well with all of you. It was supposed to have a lot of Karofsky and Brittany in it, but I deleted all of that out and decided to focus in more on Klaine's relationship. This chapter exposes more of how even though they are the perfect couple-in my mind-they can still bicker and not always agree on everything. I had to do it because, honestly, Blaine is still a human no matter how amazing he is and he won't always turn out to be Kurt's prince charming. I'm forcing myself to realize that even Blaine will make mistakes, but Kurt will love him anyway :)

Disclaimer: I'm too lazy to Google translate another way to say I don't own Glee, so... in English I will say that I don't own Glee!

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"…yeah, Rachel. He's been with me all night." Kurt's blue eyes fluttered at the sound of Blaine's soothing yet half irritated tone, followed by a dresser rolling open then snapping shut again. Blaine continued after a brief pause, "What? No. He's still asleep. I'm just saying, Rachel, isn't eleven missed calls, fifteen text messages and six voice mails exaggerating things a bit? You knew he'd be with me." Another brief pause, then, "That idea would be completely logical if our school actually had a gang of thugs living outside of it. Whatever, Rachel. I have to go. Kurt should be up soon and I'm making breakfast, so I'll see you around."

Kurt watched Blaine's phone fly towards one of the dressers and land with a clunk, then he scooted higher up on the damp, flattened pillows and rose up with his torso. The blankets fell away from his body, exposing all of the hickeys Blaine had suckled onto his skin the night before, and he shivered longingly at the memory of those hot, moist lips rubbing against his sensitive skin. Focusing in on Blaine, who had dressed simply in a pair of knee length boxers, bending down by one of his drawers and tucking his long curls behind his ear as they fell into his face, Kurt licked his lips and flexed his toes under the covers, which must have shifted them and made a sound because Blaine lifted his head and met Kurt's eye. As though a memory of the previous night swept through them at the same time, both of them curved their lips into small smiles and Kurt wiggled, which wrinkled Blaine's already made side of the bed.

"Good morning," Blaine murmured, rising to his feet and brushing his hands against his boxers. He headed toward the bed and bent to give Kurt a kiss, his hair swinging back off his ear. "I have breakfast in the fridge downstairs—your favorite, a fruit salad with a side of honey with oatmeal. Did you sleep well here last night?"

Kurt slid his fingers through Blaine's and breathed in the scent of freshly showered man, mint and salt wafting off of Blaine's neck as Blaine nuzzled his face, "I slept amazing! Your bed is so comfortable. It's a wonder why you'd ever leave it."

Blaine chuckled lowly and hummed into Kurt's hair, "I leave it because you require I come with you on your shopping sprees and carry all of your bags." Placing one knee on the bed, Blaine bent fully over Kurt, "I talked to your dad a while ago. He said that he wasn't mad at all and that we were only going to be teenagers once. So, you're off the hook and now you can just stay naked in my bed all day instead of going down to your house to get a talking to."

Giggling lightly, Kurt cocked his brows when Blaine threw himself down on the bed beside Kurt, utterly relaxed and satiated, every wall down. Kurt loved moments when Blaine was fully at ease. "Can't I take a shower, though? I hate spending a day feeling unclean."

Blaine laid his head against the pillow, gazing up at Kurt lovingly, "I don't care. As long as you're naked in the shower. I think you and I are going to have a nudist day. There's a rule in this house—if my parents aren't home, you're not going to wear clothes. Someone as pretty as you are definitely shouldn't be allowed to wear them." Bending his neck at an angle, he nudged a kiss into Kurt's lips and reached down to his own boxers. In one swift move he ripped them off and flung them across the room, and Kurt instantly pulled away with an unbelieving laugh.

"_What_ on earth has gotten into you, Blaine?" He covered his smirk with his hand, trying not to let his eyes drift down Blaine's gorgeous, muscular body to his groin. "Did you drink something at homecoming? You don't have a fever, do you?"

"No," Blaine rested a hand on Kurt's torso, one of his fingers scrubbing a pink nipple until it grew into a point, "I just… really love you, Kurt. I don't know. Something about waking up and seeing you in _my_ bed reminded me that you're a hundred percent mine. I have a feeling this is how I would feel on our wedding night, secluded from the world in this place that was just ours. I know that this won't last forever, Kurt. Being completely alone with you. But I want to make it last as long as I can."

Kurt smiled at that, and he cupped Blaine's chiseled jaw in the palm of his hand, "Well… that's a good thing, then. Because I've had fun, Blaine. So… can you tell me something? Is it only… people you could possibly have sex with that you don't bring home? Have you brought _anyone_ home?"

Blaine shook his head in answer, "You're the absolute first. I don't know, babe, I guess I'm just a secluded person. I like having that space where _I_ can go without anyone following. Having my own space to just breathe has kept me sane through high school."

"Why am I here, then?"

"Because I don't want to seclude myself from you," the reply came so effortlessly, Kurt truly did believe that the then-most popular boy in school truly was opening up his world to Kurt. At Kurt's deciphering expression Blaine grinned and pressed a kiss to his forehead, "Don't think so much about it, sweetheart. You're the first person I've ever loved. It's not like it's a pain to lose my personal space to you. It's still personal… just personal with you. Think of me letting you see my room as one big secret that I'm telling you."

Kurt scooted closer to Blaine, "A lot of people say I'm the best secret keeper they know. I'm glad you trust me, Blaine. I haven't ever told anyone anything—not even Rachel."

"I know," Blaine murmured, drawing Kurt under his arm. Leaning down, Blaine laid his lashes against his cheeks and indented his lips against Kurt's. "I haven't told anyone anything about you, either—but I don't really have anyone to tell."

Upturning his lips on Blaine's, Kurt slid his hand to Blaine's thick shoulder blade and whimpered as Blaine pushed the blankets off of his legs, exposing them to the warm air coating Blaine's bedroom. Blaine popped his lips off of Kurt's and abandoned those in favor of sliding down the bed until he reached halfway down Kurt's body. Without warning he closed his hand tightly around Kurt's cock, and Kurt threw his head back with a noisy moan. From the previous night and Blaine's mouth repetitively sinking down on his cock Blaine's soothing, warm hand was a relief to his chafed cock and he urged his hips into it. Feebly he reached out to touch Blaine and pressed his hand against his hard, muscular, bronze back, the muscles underneath his dark skin shifting and pulling with every time Blaine pumped Kurt.

Boldly Kurt slid his hand down to Blaine's steel ass and kneaded it with his fingers, which Blaine responded to by folding his body over itself and forming a perfect circle with his lips. He opened his mouth over Kurt's tip, his lips suckling in a perfect rhythm that caused Kurt to buck his body and bend his spine, a frantic cry escaping his lips. Blaine tongued Kurt's tip as though he'd been practicing for this moment for years, his tongue wrapping around Kurt's base and slipping up and down the bottom of it where an intricate tracing of veins shot electric bolts through his cock at Blaine's sexy, warm, wet tonguing job.

Digging his fingers into the pillows and latching his other fingers into Blaine's strong arse, Kurt turned his face to the side as his hips gyrated to their own will. He became nothing but his body as Blaine ran his tongue over both of his balls, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a building scream of pleasure. "Blaine, don't _stop!_" He cried out to the ceiling, his fingernails nearly puncturing Blaine's skin. "Please! Please!" Another throaty scream tore free of his lips, which encouraged Blaine to sink down deeper and harder and just when he thought he might black out something cracked noisily in the doorway and at first Kurt ignored it, figuring Blaine had probably thrown a pillow out of the way when Blaine's mouth tore off of his groin and a mountain of blankets were tossed over his body, completely avalanching him.

Kurt dug his way out and tossed them aside, but he almost wished he hadn't. Another form of a tall, slender person stood in the doorway, and in his flurry to reach for Blaine he'd missed the face but then he heard Blaine shout, "_Dad!_" and his heart stopped beating.

He almost threw his arms around Blaine to hope he might protect him from the person in the doorway, but Blaine tossed his legs off the bed and reached down to cover himself with Kurt's discarded towel from the previous night. He checked briefly over his shoulder to assure that Kurt was covered, then turned back to his father in the doorway. From his stiffened spine and proud stance one might think that Blaine had it all under control, but like last night when he was on stage and had hardened himself against his audience Kurt noticed the ashy coloring to his skin and the way his fingers slightly trembled uncontrollably.

Eyeing Blaine from the bed, Kurt swallowed thickly and slid his eyes to Blaine's father, who still appeared to be in shock from the scene he'd walked in on. His brief case and all of its contents were scattered across the floor, but he didn't seem to notice as he still had his fingers in the position to be holding something, and his mouth was wide open with his eyes widened to the size of saucers. It was the first time Kurt had ever seen any kind of emotion on Richard's face, but it was for all the wrong reasons. At last, Richard recovered and blinked his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he glanced between Blaine and Kurt. Blaine stepped slightly in front of Kurt's way, blocking both Kurt and Richard from seeing one another.

"Dad," Blaine breathed, his fingers still shaking, "What are you doing home? You and mom weren't supposed to be back yet."

_Well, he's the bravest boy I know to be carrying on a conversation with his homophobic dad after being caught with me,_ Kurt thought fondly, remaining silent and trying to peek around Blaine to catch his dad's expression and see how angry he might be.

Able to slightly see Richard if he tilted his head at an odd angle, Kurt watched him open his mouth, close it, then open it again like a fish, before he whispered hoarsely, "Your mom and Cooper are downstairs, Blaine. We just got home about five minutes ago. We didn't expect you to be home since you're always with _him._ You won't believe it. The new Transformers is being shot in India. Cooper leaves next Tuesday for a meeting in Washington D.C. to confirm everything and he says filming will last about three years, since he'll be in the next Transformers, as well. But while Cooper was telling us his wonderful news, you know who called me? Your school. Your principal told me that Mr. Paul Karofsky came into his office after picking David up from the dance and said he found Dave with a bloody nose because of _you. _Mr. Figgins said that he's tired of the constant fighting out of you and won't let you back on the football team unless you get your _glee club_ and the football team to get along. Why didn't I hear that you were spending all of your football energy on that little glee club of yours?"

Blaine perked up at that, and he almost dropped the towel he so swiftly barked, "I gave Karofsky a freaking bloody nose because he kissed me when he was drunk! That wasn't my fault—!"

While Kurt's mouth fell open in surprise Richard held up his hand to stop Blaine, "You do not shout at me right now! That's not what David has been saying. He said you harassed him in the parking lot because you're jealous of his friendship with _him._ From what I can see is that you've put all of your time and energy into this gay little slut who goes weak-kneed for every boy he comes across! I want to see you downstairs and dressed in five minutes or else I _will_ have consequences for you. Don't you dare try to argue with me, either. You've pissed me off before but this is crossing the fucking line, Blaine!" Before he whipped around and stormed out the door, he pointed a finger at Kurt who burrowed deeper under the blankets, "Oh, and I have every intention of calling _your_ father and seeing if he'll make plans for sending you back to Paris immediately for the trouble you've caused this family. If I have it my way—and I will—you'll never see my son again."

Kurt flinched back when Richard slammed the door behind him, and the two remaining in the room listened for Blaine's mother's voice murmuring quietly, "Honey, what happened? Who's with Blaine?"

Richard continued shouting, "Oh, just that gay boy you loved so much over the California trip! I walked in and the two were naked in bed! However the hell long this affair has been going on I'm putting a stop to it today!"

Another door slammed and footsteps pounded against the floor then everything suddenly went quiet, and Kurt assumed that his family was downstairs. Heart pounding faster than it should have, Kurt blinked away a couple of burning tears in his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand. Blaine continued standing very still, but Kurt must have made a sound because he glanced over his shoulder and his calloused, cold expression instantly melted into a gentle and compassionate one as he kneeled down on the bed and took Kurt in his arms. "Hey," he whispered soothingly, smoothing Kurt's hair, "Shh… Don't cry. I'm right here. I've got you. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I'll never let anything happen to you. I'm so sorry, I had no idea they would be coming home early. Shh… It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here."

Kurt trembled in Blaine's arms, blinking away his tears as he closed his eyes and buried himself in Blaine's chest, "This is a nightmare! Your dad will never let you see me again. How is anything okay, Blaine? We never should have tried something this risky. And he's going to call _my_ dad and he'll be so disappointed in me that I've been hiding so much from him and _you've_ lost your football scholarship—"

"Kurt." Blaine squeezed him tighter, blocking his view of anything except Blaine's chest, "Kurt, don't worry about all of that. Burt loves you more than anything. He might be pissed at me but he'll never stop loving you and he definitely won't send you back to Paris early. Let me worry about football and all of that. And my dad can't stop me from seeing you. We're always going to be together, Kurt. Remember? This is a forever kind of thing we have. I love you so much and nothing will keep me from you." Bending down, Blaine pressed his lips to Kurt's salty, tear streaked lips, then lifted his head and smoothed Kurt's hair back, "Here, put on one of my sweatshirts. They'll be big enough to hide everything."

Climbing off the bed, Blaine glanced back at Kurt when Kurt anxiously snatched his wrist to hold him close. He lifted his claimed wrist to his lips and kissed the back of Kurt's hand before setting it aside, then ventured to his closet and pulled on a wife beater and sweatpants for himself, and returned to Kurt with a baggy, gray sweatshirt. He slid it onto Kurt's body and helped Kurt off the bed, watching the sleeves hang off his hands by at least six inches and the sweatshirt hem nearly brush Kurt's knees. Rolling up the sleeves swiftly for Kurt, Blaine slipped an arm around Kurt's waist to make it clear to his father that he couldn't petrify him into stopping loving Kurt, and guided Kurt toward the hallway.

They headed for the stairs and Blaine peeked down first, finding his father resting on the couch with his fingers digging into his temple and he could hear his mother and Coop talking softly in the kitchen. _Hey, Kurt, this is my lovely family. My dad is ready to take a shotgun to my head because I'm in love with you—a boy—so you want to go get hitched? _As if.

Assuring that Kurt padded down the stairs safely then lifting him off the last one and setting him back down on the carpet, Blaine led him into the living room then pointed out the kitchen to him, where he knew Kurt would be less of a target with Coop and his halfway homophobic mother. Kurt obediently streaked off toward the kitchen and Blaine met Coop's eye through the open doorway, and Coop nodded briefly at him before taking Kurt under his arm and offering him a little breakfast. The door shut behind them so Kurt would hear less of the boiling argument impregnating the air, the tension in his father's jaw obvious.

Left to his father's brutal hands, Blaine turned his attention on him and lowered to the couch opposite his father the moment Richard flicked his finger toward it. Clearly debating an opening sentence to their argument, Richard finally muttered lowly, "How long has this been going on, Blaine?"

"Almost the entire year," Blaine murmured automatically, drinking in his father's wince. "And there's nothing you can say that will change my mind about Kurt. I'm in love with him."

Richard swallowed thickly, ignoring Coop's appreciate laugh emerging from the kitchen as his mother swung the door open and paced into the living room. She quietly settled into the single chair by the window, her eyes darting between Richard and Blaine as though watching a tennis match. "Richie," she murmured to her husband, "I got a hold of Burt and told him what happened, and he said that he'll just talk to Kurt when he gets home. Blaine, why don't you talk to us? What's been going on? Are you… gay?"

"No, he's not gay!" Richard shouted, his temper getting the best of him again, "Dammit, he doesn't know what he is! He has no idea what he's doing! He wasted three whole years and over one hundred thousand dollars put into football and an entire scholarship to sleep with some gay slut—"

"He's not a fucking slut!" Blaine countered noisily, "Karofsky's a fucking liar. Kurt's scared to death of him. He threatened Kurt's life—"

"Blaine." His mother said with the voice of a personified tranquilizer, "Inside voices, please. Let's not swear, either."

"What's the point, Maddie?" Richard snapped, glaring Blaine down, "He won't do what we tell him. Blaine, we set your life up perfectly. We were the exact same way with Cooper when he was still living at home and look where he's at. He's going to India for three years by this summer on a two million dollar salary for his new movie. Had you not fucked this up, you could be on a _three_ million dollar salary in your professional football career. I could call my agents in California and have them clear things up, but, Blaine, you really shitted things up. I don't know if you deserve all the work that goes into getting a scholarship back."

"What if I don't want a football career?" Blaine snapped, shocking Richard again, "Dad, I like singing. Now that I think about it singing is really where I belong. With your connections to big named agents I could start out as a record producer and maybe perform my own music—"

"No!" Richard screamed, slamming his hands down, "You're not going into singing just because your gay boyfriend won't have sex with you if you leave glee club! I'm calling the school and making you quit that damned club immediately. You're going to be spending your study halls, lunch time and after school on that field training until you puke for football just so, if I feel you finally deserve it, you can get your scholarship back. You can start earning your way back to your scholarship by kissing your little boyfriend goodbye! He's the one who dragged you down in the first place."

"You can't stop me from seeing Kurt!" Blaine launched to his feet, fully on defense, "We're in love and there's nothing you can do about that! I don't want a fucking football scholarship! I hate football! Singing is who I am. Mr. Schuester will keep me in the club, anyway. This is about _my_ life. I'll do what I want with it. What are you trying to do, Dad, relive your life through Coop and me? I'm _done_ being your punching bag! I'm going to live my life my way and my life will always include Kurt—"

"Another word and I'll never let you set foot on my property again."

Maddie perked up at that, and he heard the kitchen door push lightly open, revealing Kurt with Coop standing an inch behind him, his hand at Kurt's waist as though to protect him from any ammo Richard might shoot towards Kurt. "_Richard._ You don't mean that. Blaine is our son!"

"No, he doesn't mean it." Blaine stated flatly, "He's threatened it before. I'm not going to cower down to you just because you don't like the person I'm in love with. Kurt _is _my life. I'm going to stay in glee club and I'm going to stay with Kurt and there's nothing you can do about that. I'm going to head over to Kurt's place with him for a while and get things patched up with his dad and don't you dare expect me to be back for quite a while."

Silently Richard gazed up at Blaine, then without another word he reached for the brief case filled with more work documents at his hip and unlatched it. Expressionlessly he flipped it upside down over the carpet and papers, folders, a laptop, all dumped out over the carpet, and Maddie gasped as she held her hand over her mouth. Shaking it twice to assure that all of the papers were out of it, Richard lumbered to his feet and approached Blaine, who didn't twitch a muscle. The two men stood head to head, neither of them bowing or cowering. Finally, Richard forced his brief case into Blaine's hand and muttered darkly, "Use that to get your shit. Whatever isn't out by tonight I'm throwing in the garbage. All the money I gave Cooper at his graduation that you were expecting… That deal is done. I'm being serious. If I see your face at my door again I'll get a restraining order. You're not my son any more, and I'm not your father. Find somewhere else to live. You've embarrassed the fuck out of this family and I'm done fighting you. I used to love that you were so strong willed—like me—because I knew you'd make for a great lawyer or something and have a beautiful wife and perfect children, but you have fun being homeless. I'll call my agents tonight and confirm the disownment and disinheritance. By tomorrow you won't have a family. Was losing all that you had really worth _him?_" Richard gestured indifferently to Kurt, whose cheeks were flushed and streaked with glassy tears.

Boldly Blaine spat, completely in control, "I've never had a family."

Richard's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and he opened his mouth wide as though prepared to scream, but instead he raised his hand and smashed it against the side of Blaine's face. Blaine shouted and stumbled at the force of the crack that sounded more like metal being dented, and everyone else's mouths fell open in shock. Maddie started to race forward to her spitting son as he held his hand to his already bloody cheek, but Richard pointed at her and shouted, "Not now, Maddie! He deserved far worse than that, but I'm through with him. He isn't worth the energy."

Blaine lifted his eyes to Richard's face, and without another wasted second he shoved his father back and lunged at Kurt. Clasping his hand through Kurt's, he yanked him toward the front door and threw it open, storming out into the open with a fussing, pacing Kurt right on his heels. Once they were far enough away from the house Kurt cried out, "Blaine, wait! Don't you want to get your stuff? We can't just leave it!"

"Everything can be replaced," Blaine threw open his car's passenger door and reached for Kurt, lifting him up and tossing him unceremoniously inside, "Buckle your seatbelt. Now." He was about to shut the door when he remembered that, no, everything couldn't be replaced as he recalled the pictures of Kurt on his dresser and Kurt's corsage and his boutonniere bunched up on the floor with the rest of their clothes. "Shit," he punched the door window, startling Kurt into widening his eyes as Blaine peeled away from the car, "Stay here. I'll be back in a second. I mean it, Kurt. Don't move."

Jogging away from the car with Kurt's eyes on his back, he headed around to the back entrance where his family would most likely not be. He slipped through the back door silently and paced up the stairs from the laundry room, where he had entered, and discovered the second floor to be empty. Practically running towards his room, he threw open the door and leapt back at the sight of another body standing in there. "Coop!" he whisper-shouted, eyeing the book bag slung over Coop's shoulder, "What the hell are you doing?"

Coop ignored him and stuffed a pile of clothes in it, then tossed it at Blaine, "Here. I packed you a bunch of your clothes and Kurt's dress. Your pictures and phone are in there, too. And I found a few flowers on your floor and stuffed them in there, too. I'm assuming they're from your homecoming. Mom will probably be up in a minute to sob over your loss but I'm going to call you later. I need to talk to you really soon. I love you and if you need a place to stay, my California home is always open." Abruptly jerking Blaine into a swift hug, Coop released him and pushed him away. "Good luck, little brother. Now, get going before Dad hears us. You can't be here much longer. He's ready to lose it—worse than he already has."

Blaine nodded and tried to ignore the fresh tears scalding his eyes at his brother's infinite love for him, but he batted those away and threw the book bag over his shoulder as he raced back down the hallway. Within seconds and about ten stairs he was back outside, and he darted around front to find Kurt—and his car—exactly where they should have been, without his dad harassing the former over Blaine's life and the latter being taken away from Blaine as just another punishment.

Stepping into the driver's seat of the car, Blaine tossed the book bag to the back seat and shifted the car into reverse as he stepped down on the gas. "Wait, Blaine," Kurt cried out softly, "I need to think about something to say to my dad and you need to think of a way to make them take you back. You can't be homeless."

"Please, I'd rather be homeless than go back to that hell-dump." At Blaine's biting tone Kurt sank into his seat, making himself as small as possible, so Blaine sighed and hindered his explosive temper so it wouldn't drift over onto Kurt, "Look… I'm sorry, baby. I just… don't know what to do right now. But if my dad's not going to support us, I don't want anything to do with him. I'll… find an after school job or something. Now that football's not in the way a job will be easier to get. I'll graduate, head off to college, and all of this will be behind me. For now, I'll probably move into an apartment complex or something. In the case of an emergency, my brother offered his California home. It's paid off, near a bunch of agencies where I could find something to work with, and I have a feeling Coop would loan me money."

Kurt's wide, blue eyes fell onto Blaine as though he'd just told him casually that a speeding semi was rampaging down the road toward them, "_California?_ You can't go to California, that's across the country and—Blaine, you can't!" Covering his mouth with his hands, Kurt wiped his freshly leaking eyes with his fingertips. He murmured something that sounded like a tragedy in French, then shook his head. "What would I do if you moved to California? Blaine, this can't be happening right now!"

Growing more and more anxious himself but trying to remain strong for Kurt, Blaine dug his fingers into his palm that was holding the steering wheel and scratched at the calloused skin as he used his free arm to wrap around Kurt, "Okay, okay. Baby, hush. We'll figure something out. There are plenty of apartment complexes in Westerville. It's a bigger city than Lima and I'm sure there are plenty of jobs available there. Kurt, you're not going to lose me. I promise you. Calm down. You can't walk in and face your dad while you're crying. I'll talk to him. I'll fix this." When more tears leaked from a sobbing Kurt's eyes at the thought of his own beloved dad turning on him, Blaine pulled his car into the Hummel driveway but didn't step out. Instead, he wrapped his arms fully around Kurt and clutched him into his chest. Kurt gripped down on Blaine's wife beater as though holding onto a lifeline. "_Sweetheart…_ Everything's going to be fine. Your dad won't kick you out. He loves you so much, Kurt. I'm going to stay right by your side."

Kurt whimpered into Blaine's chest, "I'm so scared, Blaine. I'm tired of losing things just because I'm gay! I don't want to lose you or my dad."

"_Baby_," Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear, but he had run out of pep talks. Energy nearly drained, he held Kurt for a few more minutes until he heard a door creak open and he glanced up and, much to his dread, he found Burt pacing out across the walkway toward their car. Sighing explosively at the mental toll it was taking him to face Burt and his fear of what might happen to Kurt, Blaine pushed open the door and briefly wiped Kurt's red, tear-streaked face with his wife beater before sliding Kurt's wiry body into his arms and lifting him out of the car in the cradle of his arms. Setting him back down on the concrete, he kept his arm held around Kurt's waist—not to intimidate Burt that they were a power couple he couldn't stop like he had done with his own dad, but to show Burt that he respected Kurt and whatever hell Kurt went through Blaine would never leave him.

Burt's worried expression softened at the sight of his weeping son held up only by Blaine's arm and he nodded at Blaine for some reason, lifting his hand to pat Blaine's shoulder, "Why don't you two go inside and we can talk?"

_I'm not going to die, _Blaine instantly thought, his mouth falling open.

Following on Burt's heels, Blaine half-carried Kurt to the door where Burt invited them ungrudgingly inside and gestured to one of the couches. Burt shut the door behind them and entered the living room with them, lowering down onto one of his couches while Blaine held onto a still crying Kurt on the couch, his head down like a scolded puppy. "Hey, kid." Burt directed at Blaine, "I heard you got into something with your parents this morning. Your mom didn't tell me everything but what's going on?"

Wrapping his arms around Kurt and folding him into his chest, Blaine rubbed soothing circles on Kurt's back in hopes of calming him. "I got disowned," Blaine admitted flatly, and Burt's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "My dad kicked me out. Listen, whatever my mom told you on the phone… it's all my fault. I'm willing to beg you to not punish Kurt. He's been moral all through this mess. It's… me who convinced him to, um, sleep with me."

Burt cocked his brows, "What?" At Blaine's significant expression Burt shook his head, "No. No, kid. I know you and Kurt have been sleeping around. When I threaten you with shot guns and all that I'm mostly kidding, but I was just talking about you being a safe, sober driver with Kurt. I was a teenager once. Hell, Kurt's mom and I did some stuff I bet you two haven't even thought of doing. You didn't know that I knew you and Kurt were sleeping around? I knew from the moment he first walked downstairs with that waddle of his. Besides, I found lube in his bathroom one night. Kurt isn't in trouble."

Blaine's jaw nearly hit the floor, "But… my mom said you wanted to talk to Kurt."

Burt made a swiveling motion with his hand as though it should have been obvious, "Yeah, about safety with sex and all of that. Now that the subject is out in the air and I don't have to bring it up, I want to make sure my son's getting treated right. You're obviously not a floozy, Blaine, if you've stayed with him this long. I trust you. I just want to make sure Kurt is okay and knows… how to handle different sexual situations. You've been taking care of him and paying attention to how he feels?"

"Of course," Blaine's brows furrowed, "I would never do something Kurt isn't comfortable with. We always talk about things and I never force anything on him."

Burt looked to Kurt for confirmation, "Kurt? You got something to say?"

Kurt shook his head, "No, I'm happy, Dad. You mean… you're okay with all of this?"

Burt darted his eyes to Blaine again, his eyes slowly narrowing, "I am until you're not. Then you—" he directed that last toward Blaine, "—and I will have some serious problems. You might be my favorite kind of boyfriend as far as boyfriends Kurt could have chosen go, but if you hurt my son you know who to be afraid of."

Blaine thought to mention that he wasn't exactly Kurt's boyfriend or even out of the closet—even if he was in a closet in the first place—but he chose to hold his silence as being the smarter move since labels might be best for Burt. Shifting Kurt around so he was more comfortable against Blaine's chest, Blaine licked his lips and breathed, "Thank you, Burt. Your approval means the world to me. Kurt, angel, I'm gonna go out to my car to get my bag then I'm going to look up some apartments in Westerville."

Burt perked up at that while Blaine set a meek and fragile Kurt aside after being worn down from a morning of stress, "Apartments in Westerville? What are you talking about, kid?"

Blaine glanced over his shoulder as he swung the front door open, "Um… I don't really have anywhere to stay right now. I'll find something, though. Westerville is full of apartments."

Kurt watched Blaine disappear through the door then considered it. _Westerville._ A city over an hour away, probably full of attractive men and women Blaine would be working with at his new job. He'd be without Kurt for long periods of time, as their daily sleepovers would be erased and—Oh, he couldn't bear the thought of Blaine finding someone else in his time away from Kurt. Tightening his lips, he huddled into a ball and tucked his hands into the pouch on the front of Blaine's warm sweatshirt that smelled of masculine perspiration, salt, the simple aroma of Blaine, mixed with a little of his mint toothpaste and the scent of lube and sex with a little bit of Kurt's perfume in there.

Noticing his dad gazing at him a little too intently, he glanced up when Burt murmured his name softly. "Kurt… You okay, kid?" Kurt immediately nodded his head while biting away tears, but Burt wasn't so fast to fall for it. He nodded to the kitchen, "Kid, why don't you and me talk in the kitchen for a minute?"

Bitterly Kurt rose to his feet, trying to stay on his dad's good side despite knowing that Burt was okay with everything. He followed his dad into the kitchen and let Burt close the door behind them, and Burt immediately delved into the problem, "Why isn't Blaine staying with a friend or relative? Doesn't he have anyone?"

Kurt shook his head, keeping his eyes down, "No. The best offer he got was from his brother to stay in his California beach home. He doesn't have any close friends. He'll figure something out, though."

Burt swallowed thickly and nodded his head, "That bruise on his cheek—that from his old man? It looks fresh."

Kurt nodded his head, remaining silent on the subject that time.

Sighing, Burt reached out and touched Kurt's shoulders, "I know this is hard on you. Blaine and you have grown really close. And Westerville's over an hour away. Would Blaine even be attending McKinley?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Kurt softly whispered, "I don't know. We don't know anything. Blaine says he'll get a job somewhere but he'd never be able to work long enough hours on minimum wage as a student to pay off an apartment bill. Knowing him he'll try anyway then end up moving to California because—" Unable to get out the rest of his sentence because he was so choked up on his own tears, Kurt pressed his knuckles into his lips and blinked away the tears.

"Hey, hey," Burt took Kurt's shoulders in his hands, "None of that. Don't you start crying on me. Kurt… If I do something for you, I'm going to have to ask something of you. For as long as you're under my roof, you're going to have to cut back on the shopping. Severely. That means no more weekly shopping trips and when you do go shopping, can you only go into one or two stores instead of twenty? The bills add up and we need the money."

"For what?" Kurt whispered, his brows furrowing, "The house is paid off and you—"

Both of them glanced over their shoulders when the front door pushed open again, and without warning that their talk was over, Burt started heading towards the door. Blinking, Kurt followed on his heel and slipped out of the kitchen behind Burt. He continued over to where Blaine stood by the couch opening his bag and rummaging through it, and he squeezed himself against Blaine. Instantly dropping his phone back into the bag, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt and simply held him tightly, something both of them needed.

Giving them a moment to embrace each other, Burt stood back and cleared his throat, and Kurt glanced over his shoulder at his dad. Blaine also glimpsed up. "Blaine," Burt murmured lowly, unsure if what he was about to get himself into would ruin his sleeping habits, eating habits and everything else about his life or not, "Blaine, Kurt and I were just talking. As a father… I've experienced a lot of heartache in these past eighteen years. I've missed seeing Kurt on his birthdays and I've missed a lot of opportunities to hold him on my knee when he was little and read books to him, but the worst pain I've ever gone through was stepping onto that plane and leaving Kurt in Paris with his aunt. I was proud of Kurt for wanting to take care of his suffering family, but leaving him was just… almost unbearable. Kurt, you know this and I know this but disowning you—even when I figured out you weren't straight—was never an option. I've never raised a wrong finger against you for anything, even when you turned five and annoyed the hell out of me because for a while we all thought you were hyperactive and never slept." Burt paused to smile at that, and even in the seriousness of the moment Kurt's eyes sparkled with humor and delight, "Blaine, to hear that your father was able to kick you out and hit you then disown you… It kills me, from another father's point of view. So, if you _are_ willing to change your plans and stay here in Lima, my house is open to you."

It took a few moments for that to sink in to either one of them, then Blaine's mouth slowly fell open. "Wait… you mean I can stay here? Permanently?"

At Blaine's wording of the situation it also sunk into Kurt, who turned his pretty blue eyed gaze upon Blaine then back to his father, watching for the catch or something of the sorts. Burt nodded at Blaine, "You already pretty much do, so I don't see the difference in moving your stuff in." He paused and directed his next statement to Kurt, "As long as that little condition you and I talked about stays intact. Think you can handle not being a shopaholic for a little while? I promise you that last month's fashion line will still look just as great this month. You'll be making a statement, Kurt, and you've always liked making those."

Kurt's eyes popped out and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. He stood there frozen for a few seconds, then darted out of Blaine's arms and raced to embrace his father tightly. "Thank you! Thank you! I promise I'll cut back! You won't regret this!" Before Burt could reply or even wind his arms around Kurt, Kurt whirled around to face Blaine and his face broke into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. He launched himself back across the room and leapt at Blaine, kicking his legs around his waist and looping his arms around his neck. Blaine stumbled backwards a foot but quickly steadied himself and wrapped his arms around Kurt, his face still set into shock.

Giggling, Kurt pressed a kiss into Blaine's neck before peeling off his body and bending over the bag of clothes on the couch. With a minute struggle he managed to lift the bag then announced to no one in particular, "I'm going to take this down to my room. I'll be right back."

Waiting until Kurt vanished down the stairs, Blaine scrubbed the nape of his neck and glanced at Burt, who had already settled back into his chair and flipped on the TV like it was just an ordinary day. Amazed that underneath the gruff exterior Burt had such a giving heart, Blaine cleared his throat and murmured, "Thank you, Burt. This is more than I could have asked for. I won't cause any trouble for you."

"Eh," Burt twitched a shoulder, "It's no big deal. It made Kurt's day, at least. You sure you're okay with staying… here? I know you and Kurt hang out a lot but are you good with living here with him? It'll be a hell of a lot more different than just hanging out."

Blaine flashed back to over a month ago, when he was chuckling at the idea of how amusing it might be to live with Kurt. And now here he was, living with Kurt. Still in shock at the very idea of sleeping next to Kurt, waking up beside him every morning, having breakfast at his table, driving to school from the same house then returning to the same house afterward and repeating the process afterward, Blaine blinked at the sudden burn behind his eyes. He was living the fantasy that some guys could only attempt to imagine. No more waking up to screaming parents, no more fighting his father on every little gesture he did wrong, no more trying to sleep in his bed while his parents fought all over again and convincing himself to not jump out of his window and run away. He could be completely happy for once in his life.

"Blaine?" Burt cocked a brow at him, "Are you alright? You look a little choked up."

Blaine nodded his head, inhaling the smell of a warm, comfortable home full of people who truly loved him and wanted the best for him, with his angel waiting for him downstairs. He breathed out heavily again, "Yeah. I'm fine. It's just… Burt… I'm… I'm in love with your son."

Burt didn't seem surprised at all. Casually he reached for his newspaper and opened it to the page he'd been reading before he'd been interrupted, and he muttered, "I know. That's not a secret, Blaine. You should probably go downstairs and check out what your roommate is doing. Who knows if he'll tear his entire room apart preparing for you to live down there with him. Oh, and don't you dare bother with finding a job to help pay the bills. Living with Kurt will be a job enough. He's quite the work out."

Smiling at that, Blaine quietly snuck toward the stairs and pushed open the door before shutting it behind him, and he discovered Kurt arranging Blaine's pictures with him and Coop in them on his dresser, forming a maze around his different hair products and brooches. Quietly padding up to Kurt and his work station, he jerked Kurt back against him and bit into the side of his throat. Kurt released a high moan of pleasure and tilted his head to the side, "Mm… I can already tell what living with you is going to be like. Are you really happy, though? To be staying with me? Please, be honest."

"Kurt," Blaine spun him around and grasped onto his upper arms, forcing him to meet his golden eyes, "it's like we have this invisible chain between us holding us together. We've never been apart. Of course I'm happy. I love you so much and now I'm living with you and it's like… this dream that I never want to wake up from. Any man would kill to be in my shoes right now."

Kurt scoffed and rolled his eyes, returning to placing the pictures on his dresser, "Please, you're the only man who's ever shown an interest in me… other than just my body. Not that I'm complaining. You're the only man I want considering me that way."

Wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist from behind, Blaine rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder and nuzzled into his ear, "Mm… I considered you the first day of school. After that I just became obsessed and I wouldn't stop until you were mine." He noticed Kurt pull out one of the pictures of him alone and frown at it in a speculating manner, then set it aside on his bed. Kurt moved onto the next one of him and Blaine climbing in the tree in his backyard, Kurt sitting on one of the lower branches while Blaine rested a foot on the bark and held Kurt's hips to make sure he didn't fall. Kurt smiled demurely at the camera, his face tilted slightly towards Blaine, while Blaine gazed lovingly up at Kurt. He set that one nearest his bed without hesitation, so Blaine reached down for the one of Kurt alone and started to set it on the dresser. Kurt swatted his hand away.

"No, no. That is most definitely _not_ being displayed in our room. I'll look conceited. See if my dad might want it upstairs." When Blaine ignored Kurt's instructions and set it on the dresser, anyway, Kurt whipped around and stared at Blaine as though he were insane for being so bold. "_Blaine._ Why on earth would you want _that_ picture in here? It's just of me. We could fill that space with more pictures of us or just of you. Rachel's kitten calendars with Finn's face in place of the cat's heads would look better there than a picture of just me, and you know how I hate those, Blaine."

"Well," Daringly stepping up to bat, Blaine set another picture of just Kurt on the dresser, "this is my room now, too. And I like those pictures of you. You know I took this one the morning after we first made love? These are important memories, Kurt. Don't store them away just because they're only of you. I think you're beautiful in these pictures and you won't look conceited because this is _our_ room now and these were set out in my old room. These can be counted as my contribution to our room. Please, baby."

"Okay, fine," Kurt sighed and lowered onto his bed, "I just hate looking… conceited. I want to make you happy, though. If this is what you want… I'll be okay with it. I'll adjust."

"You do make me happy, angel," Blaine replied automatically, scooting things around the dresser to perfect the new additions, "You'd make me happy even if you did tell me to not put the pictures up. I guess I just like them because they're… like a comforting pillow I can hold to my chest when you're not there to be held in person. When I would actually sleep in my own bed and you weren't there… I'd sometimes stare at those pictures and my bed wouldn't feel so cold. You weren't there but… I could still see you and I'd see that loving look in your eye and I'd know that you were back at your house, thinking about me and waiting for me to tell me that you still love me that next time we would see each other. They're not just pictures, Kurt. They're reminders of how much you love me."

The room remained silent for a few minutes as Blaine adjusted the pictures, and for a second he thought Kurt had withdrawn into the silent treatment since Blaine had forced his way into putting the pictures up against Kurt's initial will, but then he felt something brush his ass and glanced over his shoulder, only to find Kurt standing behind him with wide eyes and parted lips. Blinking twice, Kurt licked his lips and nodded to the bed, his hand sliding through Blaine's. "Please," he whispered, and Blaine's face drained of color. Impatiently Kurt tugged at Blaine's hand, "I want you now. I'm ready. Please, hold me."

Swallowing thickly, Blaine wound his arms around Kurt's waist and watched his lover back into the bed then lay down across it, exposing himself to Blaine's will to do whatever he pleased to Kurt in bed. No matter how many pictures they would debate about displaying to company or how many arguments they would get into about Blaine turning his electric razor on in the morning and awakening Kurt fifteen minutes too early or if Kurt would take two hours in the bathroom simply coiffing his hair for school, Blaine was positive that their love would survive.

Because what they had, and what neither of them had ever experienced before, was real. It was a forever kind of thing.


	22. Don't Stop Believin'

Author's note: So... I'm a total liar. I promised a chapter to be up by Friday but I've gotten two up and still have a few days to spare, so yay me :) Despite my usual plan of making everything super angsty and depressing, I'm making the next few chapters kind of funny and full of drama. I think it's just that Karofsky won't be in the next few chapters, because he was such a downer. These next few chapters will be the most fun for me to write out of all of my chapters yet, and this chapter is just sort of the build up to those. It has some fluffiness in it, then some smut, then some angst, then some fluff, which is usually how I go about things.

To my reviewers who I haven't PMed yet or addressed in any of my author's notes:

Arkell26: I realize that we PM nearly every day but I thank you so very much for your kind translations of how to say I don't own Glee. If you're not catching on, that's total sarcasm. Now I have two places where I have to deal with the fact that I don't own Glee, here in my disclaimers and now in my reviews which usually fill me with joy but now I see yours and it's telling me that I don't own Glee and that seriously depresses me. Anyway, despite this, I love you and your Arkellness and wish Klaine fluffiness upon you.

Nonstop Klaine: Thanks so much for your awesome review. If you have any suggestions as to where to go with my story, let me know and I'll gladly try to find ways to add them. I hope I don't disappoint in the future with this story :)

iloverandyortonwwefan23: Thanks for the review and I'm really glad you like my story!

If I missed any of my newer reviewers I'll add something for you in my next update, which should be soon, or I'll PM you but just to let everyone know I've loved all of your reviews like I've loved Klaine. My love for them is infinite.

Disclaimer: Je ne sais pas jubilation propre. Way to go, Arkell! For those of you who can't read that-like me-according to my friend Arkell26, it means I don't own Glee in French. At least, I'm going to trust her and hope that's what that says.

* * *

Snuggling deeper under his blankets, Kurt shifted his weight and rolled slightly onto his side, scooting Blaine's laptop that Coop had mailed to him onto his lap. He flipped it open and typed in the password—the date that he and Blaine had met—and a picture of Blaine hugging a laughing Kurt to his chest in the choir room popped onto the screen. He licked his lips as a helpless smile tugged at the corners of his lips, before he clicked on the email icon in the corner of the screen. Since Kurt's only computer access was the ancient computer ready to die downstairs Blaine had given Kurt full access to his laptop, including combining their email accounts and uploading all of Kurt's files into the laptop.

He fished through his email while listening to the soothing sounds of Blaine's shower still running in the bathroom. Still adjusting to Blaine living in his room, Kurt found that although he was naturally an independent, flighty person and it took time for him to realize that his space was no longer just his space, his bed was no longer just his bed, and that his bathroom—where he stored all of his most important beauty care objects—had to be severely renovated to have room for Blaine's things, he didn't actually mind losing most of his beauty care products that he never used to the bathroom upstairs. Despite his sacrifices, it was a small comfort to him to step out of the bathroom in the morning and find Blaine avalanched under the blankets, his face buried in one of the pillows. He didn't feel as alone as he used to.

Suddenly, a message from Unique beeped onto the screen, and Kurt clicked to open it. _Probably just another forward with pictures of the new in's and out's. _Shockingly, though, this message was addressed to him alone, _Hey, superstar. We have big news for you! We're flying in for two weeks to do a photo shoot session and a music video for the holidays! Dakota Stanley wants to do an intake on the American fashions and what the Kurt Hummel is wearing now. We've contacted your new school and synced our photo shoot and music video with your holiday break, so the second week of your break you'll be flying to New York City to meet up with your agents! Because the music video is a duet, we want you to bring four of your closest, best singing friends and choose one to duet with. Reply as soon as you can and we'll be in touch._

Kurt's mouth fell open without his permission, and he wondered whose insane idea it had been to follow him to America when he had clearly told them that he was doing this for his sick, dying father. Opening a reply, he started to type something out when the bathroom door swung open and Blaine appeared with a towel at his dark curls, rubbing them brutally. "Don't scrub that hard," Kurt said idly, his eyes returning to the screen, "It'll tear and cause split ends."

Blaine automatically dropped the towel to the floor, but Kurt was much too focused on how to explain that he wanted to spend the holidays with his dad to bite out an annoyed comment about his rule of no damp fabric on his carpet. Approaching the bed casually, Blaine slid under the blankets beside of Kurt and touched his hand to Kurt's bare back, his fingers massaging the tense place between his shoulder bones. He eyed the screen of the laptop in a bored fashion until he caught the gist of the email, then he began sitting up, "Baby… What's this about New York?"

"I have no idea," Kurt shook his head, still strumming his fingers on the keyboard in hopes of digging up some kind of reply that wouldn't kill his chances of getting back into the singing and fashion world when he returned to France, "I told Unique when I left that I don't want to be bothered with this kind of stuff until I get back. My dad will be devastated if I leave over the holidays. I can't believe that Monsieur Stanley is _following_ me to America. He said that even though I was one of the most beautiful models he's ever worked with, I'm far too opinionated to be one of the best. He has plenty of other models to work with."

"I'd take it as a compliment, Kurt," Blaine smoothed his thumb over Kurt's arm, "Besides, the second week of break isn't over the holidays. Christmas Eve is the third day we get off, so you'd still have another few days until you'd have to go to New York. Besides, do you even… celebrate Christmas? Are gay people allowed to do that?"

Kurt laughed and swatted Blaine on the chest, "Of course we are. My family celebrates it the commercialized way. My mom would always take me out shopping _before_ Thanksgiving and buy all of these ridiculous decorations for Christmas. Once we had a rubber, blow up Santa who popped out of a balloon chimney in our yard. What about your family? What did yours do?"

Blaine shrugged a shoulder, wrapping his arms around Kurt and resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder, "Up until Coop moved out my family would always take us out to some big named, fancy restaurant and give us each fifty bucks. Then after Coop moved out… my parents would always fly out to see him and tell me that having the house to myself and the freedom to host a giant, beer party with my friends was my present that year." At Kurt's significant expression Blaine cleared his throat and lifted his head before Kurt could show any pity, "Um… Anyway, I think that… you should do this, Kurt. The holidays will be over and your dad will probably be sleeping off the big, Christmas meal so… go for it, angel. I support this. Besides, I'm a little bit interested in the whole prepping process that goes into those pictures of models on the fronts of magazines."

Still eyeballing Blaine as though in a cloud of sympathy, Kurt snapped out of it and arched his brows at Blaine, "You really want me to go? I'm not sure if they'll still want to do the shoot and video _after_ Christmas, though. I always gain at least five pounds after Christmas. This Christmas I'll be eating carrots and drinking water while you and my dad gorge yourselves. Then again, if my dad's cooking there won't be a Christmas dinner. When I was little my mom let my dad cook the dinner one year and he burned everything then let me eat the dough to the cookies. And I was far too little to know right from wrong!"

Blaine laughed and squeezed Kurt tighter, "Well, personally, I think you'd look killer whether you lost five pounds or gained them. You're gorgeous either way. Besides me, who are you going to take with you?"

Kurt touched Blaine's cheek and cooed, "Is it so obvious that I would bring you that you're making that decision on your own? I find that adorable."

Teasingly Blaine rolled away from Kurt, who muffled a sound of disgust and held his arms out for Blaine, his hands opening and closing on air. "Wait, come back! You were warm."

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Well, if you're only using me for your personal heater and considering not bringing me, I'll just stay here and watch football with your dad while you're gone. Then, I'll text you constantly about how amazing their stirrup pants are."

Kurt formed his face into a pout, and without one word he writhed his foot out from under the blankets and kicked it into Blaine's hip. Unaware of how close he'd rolled to the edge of the bed, Blaine flung his arm out with a shout as he dropped off the bed and plunked onto the floor with a bang. Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he tossed the laptop aside, crawling across the bed to look over the edge at Blaine, who still appeared to be in shock. "Blaine!" Kurt grasped onto Blaine's forearm, attempting to tug him back up. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kick you off!"

Lifting himself back on the bed, Blaine's body trembled and he closed his eyes as tears blurred his vision, his stomach tightening up as his laughter bubbled up in his throat. Kurt didn't find as much amusement in the situation, his hands brushing over Blaine's skin checking for any damage the fall might have done, when he realized that Blaine was still perfectly intact. At Blaine's laughter Kurt firmed up his lips, reaching for a pillow to slug Blaine with. "Blaine! This isn't funny! I thought you were hurt!"

"I am!" Blaine insisted, cooling his laughter down while he eyed Kurt's unsure, humorless face, "I'm very hurt… right here." Reaching for Kurt's hand, he lifted it to his groin and hissed at the soft, warm skin closing around it. Even though that wasn't exactly true since he'd landed on his ass, he suddenly couldn't concentrate on what in his body hurt and what didn't, all of his nerves and blood rushing towards his core and leaving the rest of his body numb. Kurt unconsciously licked his lips and tightened his hand, so Blaine took that as a sign that the matter of him falling was dropped and Kurt had finally accepted that Blaine really was okay—if not better than before—and Blaine took it upon himself to roll on top of Kurt.

Kurt shivered and slowly spread his knees, allowing Blaine to cradle his body between Kurt's thighs. Between his legs Kurt cupped Blaine's sac and rubbed a finger over it. He returned to squeezing Blaine's base, his face draining of color as his lips parted, his eyes glassing over. Rubbing his curled hand up and down, up and down, base to tip, Kurt pinched Blaine's tip between two of his fingers and slicked his thumb over the slit, drawing a trickle of pre-cum from Blaine. He stroked his pre-cum juiced up fingers back to Blaine's sac, fondling the pair nestled under his cock.

Overwhelmed by his urge to try a new trick with Kurt, Blaine shakily grasped Kurt's hips in his hands and flipped him over. Slammed by the beautiful roundness of Kurt's arse, Blaine lifted Kurt's hips off the bed and stood him up on his hands and knees, his arse further towards the ceiling than the rest of him. Panting, Blaine knelt down behind Kurt and placed either of his hands on Kurt's ass cheeks, spreading them apart and revealing the puckered hole within. Kurt whimpered and pressed deeper into Blaine's hands, unaware of what was to come. Despite himself, Blaine had actually forced himself to research gay sex in his hopes of discovering ways to pleasure Kurt, and what he found brought him to his knees, and he'd spent at least ten minutes masturbating over and over imagining executing the ideas with Kurt.

One proven fact he'd learned was that gay sex was a thousand times more of a turn-on than straight.

Holding his breath in anxiety as to how Kurt might handle this, Blaine closed his eyes and jabbed his tongue out as he leaned slowly forward. He contacted skin almost immediately, and ignoring Kurt's writhing hips and small cry he lapped a line of warm saliva up the line of Kurt's ass crack. He paused at the puckered, rosy hole within, his tongue flicking out against the entrance and Kurt whimpered. Drawing his tongue back into his mouth with the taste of Kurt remaining on it, he pressed his lips into the hole and opened them over it, his tongue sliding back out and swiveling around the walls his mouth had created around the hole, blocking anything from interrupting his rimming job.

Flattening his tongue out, he ran the top of it against the hole, causing Kurt's hips to lower slightly under his hands, but he instantly straightened them back up. He repeated that step, soaking in the taste of Kurt after his recent bath. An amazing aroma of lilacs and roses wafted off of Kurt, turning Blaine on even harder so he could feel his own cock digging at his belly button. He tightened his tongue up again into a point and jabbed it out at the hole, protruding past the ring of muscle. Enveloped instantly into the canal of Kurt's ass hole, he heard Kurt cry out with a muffled noise as Blaine poked in further, until he got to the point that he couldn't swallow.

He delved in a little deeper, despite the tightening pain on his tongue, and he felt the tip of his tongue brush Kurt's prostate. Pushing himself in further until his lips touched Kurt's ass cheeks, he stroked his tongue across the prostate and Kurt writhed wildly, nearly throwing himself off of Blaine's tongue. Reaching up with his shaking hand, Blaine checked how close Kurt might be and found his lover's cock to already be dripping, so without a second thought he ripped his tongue out.

Kurt fiercely tossed his head back, crying out noisily. Ignoring the protests, Blaine lapped his tongue across the back of Kurt's small, round sac before lifting himself up and positioning his balmy tip on Kurt's asshole. Already loosened by Blaine's tongue, Kurt accepted the tip of Blaine's cock with ease, his fingers digging only slightly into the pillows. Wedging himself inside, Blaine watched his cock disappear inch by inch into Kurt's ass until his hips were flushed with Kurt's ass cheeks. Amazed at how much Kurt could take in with this position, Blaine pulled himself back out until only his tip remained inside, then nailed himself forward into Kurt's prostate. Kurt screamed into the pillows, half his face smashed into them.

Blaine swiveled his hips around, learning from those websites of how good this felt. Swishing his flanks inside of Kurt, he rubbed in and out in a rhythmic pattern that set Kurt shuddering in seconds. Prepared to make his lover lose control of himself, Blaine lifted his hand into the air and cracked it as gently as he could against Kurt's left ass cheek. In that one slap Kurt's cheeks flushed, his body freezing as his inner walls tightened and squeezed around Blaine. Gasping at the lack of circulation running to his cock, Blaine cracked his hand on Kurt's ass again, which set both of them off like a couple of synchronized explosions.

Shouting, Blaine bent over and buried his face into Kurt's smooth, perspiring back and broke into violent tremors that shuddered the entire bed, the metal railings slamming into the wall over and over. He released his load into Kurt, most of it spilling out onto his hips and Kurt's ass and thighs, so he leaned down and lapped his tongue across his ass while he pumped Kurt off. At last, the two of them broke free of their chains and Blaine fell over onto the bed gasping, his body still jerking and spasming in the aftermath. Kurt also dropped onto his side, curling up against Blaine and after gulping down enough air to breathe he whispered hoarsely, "Feel better now?"

Even though both of them were worn to the bone, the sight of Kurt's rosy lips and damp, blue eyes set Blaine off all over again, and he grew hard against Kurt's thigh, "Not even close." He rolled on top of Kurt, and the boy went supple under him, his blue eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back, exposing himself to Blaine as a flagrant sacrifice.

Bending over Kurt's mouth and nuzzling his soft, silky lips, Blaine tugged Kurt into his arms knowing that no matter who he slept with in his life, he'd always see Kurt's face. After all, very few men in the world got the pleasure of sleeping with someone so beautiful as Kurt, if only Blaine had the ability of holding Kurt away from the world, away from other men, and he could only be Blaine's. Because, despite his denial, Kurt would be faced with situations of other men coming onto him.

And if Kurt truly loved him, he would vow himself to a life of celibacy before dropping to his knees for any of those men. But only fairytale love could ever remain so pure, and Blaine most definitely wasn't living a pure life.

* * *

"Alright, guys!" Schuester clapped his hands, not in an aggressive way but to draw in the chatty glee club's attention, "Listen up, everyone." When Rachel's hand shot into the air Schuester pointed at her, "Rachel, can we get to your question in a minute? I have important news." The hand lowered, and Schuester breathed out in relief that this wouldn't be another of Rachel's ten minute speeches about her lack of solos, "Thank you. Alright, guys, as many of you know—and have been counting down to—Christmas break is quickly coming up on us—" he paused once more to allow the unexpected whooping to die down, "—_and _that means when you all get back, spring will almost be here. That means that the glee club's annual assembly is around the corner and we'll be performing a song for the entire school. Plus, Regionals is right after that. Before we move onto Regionals talk, I'd like to put in a few pointers about this year's assembly. This year's theme is… born this way!"

At the group's blank faces he sighed and continued, "That means… we'll be doing Lady Gaga's Born this Way. It's a great anthem for high school kids. It's about not bowing down to discrimination and accepting the person you are." His eyes drifted over to Blaine, who had his arms around Kurt who looked pretty damn comfortable residing in Blaine's lap. To avoid meeting Schuester's knowing eyes Blaine turned his face down to Kurt and whispered in his ear, causing the other boy to break out into a smile and touch his fingers to Blaine's arms wound around his chest. Schuester avoiding rolling his eyes and sighing at Blaine's lack of will to even address the possibility that he might be gay. "To finish up with talk of the assembly, since I know all of you can memorize and perform a song, I'd like each of you to spend the break thinking of your biggest insecurity that you were born with."

Rachel's hand popped up again, so Schuester finally gestured to her, "Mr. Schuester," she began, "don't you think that's a little depressing of a task to be thinking about over the holidays? I mean, they say it in a bunch of songs we've performed in past years. 'Tis the season to be jolly, Mr. Schue."

Half the other room bubbled up with chuckles and snickers, but Schuester simply rubbed the nape of his neck and withheld his groan of agony, "Rachel, the point of this assignment is to find your worst insecurity so we can have shirts for the assembly that state your insecurity. If people see that we're brave enough to do that, others might start doing it and there would be nothing left to be ashamed of for bullies to pick on. Be proud of who you are and they won't have any fuel."

"Oh, hell, no," Mercedes snapped, "Do you realize how humiliating that would be? Mr. Schue, this won't be a performance. This will be a freak show and we'll be the freaks."

Schuester bitterly muttered, "Well, Mercedes, if you want to sit it out, feel free, but I've already called the company who makes the shirts. This could be our start of standing up for ourselves. That's all I have to say on the matter, but I'm going to give the floor to Kurt now."

Santana snorted while Kurt popped to his feet with Blaine's quiet encouragement of patting Kurt on the ass briefly to nudge him in the direction Schue was standing in, "Now, why does he get everything? He gets the floor, the teacher's respect just because of bullies who are sick of him being gay, then he gets my boyfriend's cock. I bet he set this whole _born this way_ thing up, too. Kurt, congrats for beating your own record at being the gayest freaking kid in this class."

Blaine whipped around to glare at Santana, "Put a fucking sock in it, Santana. I'm not your boyfriend anymore so get the hell over it."

Schuester snapped his fingers, "Santana, that's enough. Kurt, why don't you go ahead and tell everyone the news?"

Kurt smiled appreciatively, whirling around to face the class, "So, over the weekend my modeling agency emailed me about about an upcoming job in New York City that will last about two weeks. It'll be my first modeling job since I left when I was sixteen, but now that I'm no longer a minor I'm going to take on modeling as my full-time job starting this summer when I return to France until I can score another part in Broadway. I confirmed everything last night with my agency that I _will_ be going. The private jet leaves exactly three days after Christmas and we'll return a week after school is back in. My agencies want to get a feel of American fashions and maybe sell some of the newer looks in France _here_, so my job in this is to sell France to an American culture. After the shoot—which will be on the fifth day—we'll be filming a music video of Baby, It's Cold Outside, half in French and half in English. Unique easily believes it could be a smash hit in both America and France and will help tie the two cultures together, which will advance in more sales between the two different fashion lines. Since Baby, It's Cold Outside is a duet I've obviously chosen Blaine as my partner, but the company wants me to bring three other friends with unique styles to help the cause of finding a new fashion line they can cross over with French silks or faux wools or whatever the case may be. Therefore, I've chosen Rachel, Mercedes and Tina to come with me on the trip."

Mercedes practically leapt out of her chair, "You mean I'm going to be in a magazine? I knew the fashion world would come to their senses one day."

The proud smile instantly slapped from Kurt's face, "Um… Cedes, actually… _you_ won't be. Your clothing style will be, if they like it enough. Basically, they're going to choose one girl with the best fashion sense, copyright her clothing and switch it up a little with more of a French look, then sell it with their clothing name. But the girl they choose gets ten thousand dollars to spend freely on the French Vogue fashion line."

Rachel stood from her seat as Mercedes sat back down, "You mean… We'll just be going so we can have our looks stolen from us then sold back to us with a more French look to them? And then you'll be wearing our looks on the cover of some big named magazine? That's not fair, Kurt! I can't believe you thought we'd be excited over something like this! And why does _he_ automatically get the hit song with you? Kurt, he's not even interested in singing! This could have been my big break! You _know_ how important singing is to me!" Shaking her head in disbelief, Rachel raced out of the room and slammed through the doors, tears streaking down her cheeks.

Blaine rose from his seat in a rush to get to Kurt, but suddenly Kurt took off after Rachel. Deciding to follow them in case Kurt ran into Karofsky, Blaine darted through the door after Kurt and chased him down the hallway, staying enough distance back that he wouldn't notice Blaine in case he wanted to talk things out with Rachel. He remained several paces behind them, stopping behind a locker when he found Rachel sunken to the floor by the auditorium door. Kurt quietly approached Rachel, and he lowered to the floor beside her despite his mild germ phobia. Rachel's voice was muffled by burying her face in her knees, but Blaine could make out, "…since he apologized to you for Slusheing you everything's been about him! It's like I don't exist anymore!"

"Blaine's changed now," Kurt insisted, "He's not that guy you talked about when we first met."

Rachel's head popped up, her hair sticking to her cheeks, "When we first met _I_ was the one helping you out of the situation that Blaine put you in, Slushied on the second day of school! I was being kind to you then you just dropped me the second Blaine started kissing up to you! Kurt, you're making a mistake with him! What guy can be so awful to people just like you for years on end then when you show up so suddenly change his ways! I'm telling you, he's plotting his worst scheme yet!"

Kurt sighed and shook his head, "Rachel, Blaine lost his family for me. The lawyers called saying the disownment papers were being mailed in for finalization. He's not plotting anything. So, I'm guessing this isn't about the New York thing? It's about my relationship with Blaine?"

Rachel closed her eyes, nodding her head, "Yes. I just… I know Blaine is in a dark place right now and everything but I feel like we're growing apart, Kurt. The more time you spend with _him_, the less time we spend together."

Frowning thoughtfully, Kurt perked up at a new idea, "Well, even though Blaine and I are sharing a room in New York and you, Tina and Mercedes are bunking together, we'll still get to spend two whole weeks together in _New York_, the one place you've always wanted to go. Rachel, I'm not sorry for not choosing you for the New York duet. I know you can get a much better start than doing a Christmas love song duet with your gay best friend for a French fashion line's benefit. Besides, Blaine really… I really need him in this. I've already gotten my start, and I know Blaine could if he wanted to because of the amount of talent he has, but I'm so afraid he won't… you know, have the motivation to get his start. You have the motivation and the talent to get a start whenever you want. So… are you still mad about Vogue taking your clothing style and copyrighting it? I promise you that _I _won't be the one modeling it. Unique already sent me a folder of pictures of Christmas styled clothing I'll be wearing."

Rachel shook her head, "No… I-I was never really mad in the first place. It'll actually be nice to be the one to start a trend. Are you too upset with me to let me go on the trip?"

Kurt smiled out of the corner of his mouth, and he boldly wrapped his arms around Rachel who squeezed him back with delight shimmering in her eyes, "Of course not. You'll always be my best friend. I can understand where you're coming from, but I promise that when we get back we can have more days together—just the two of us. I've missed you, too, Rachel."

They silently hugged each other for a few minutes until Rachel drew back with a quizzical expression, "Wait, Kurt… If you're not letting _me_ have my start singing a love song with you… as a gay boy… why are you letting Blaine? Is he… out?"

Licking his lips, Kurt's face sank into a seriousness that could only be understood as disappointment, and Blaine slowly peeled himself away from the lockers. He dug his fingers into his palms and breathed out heavily, trying to keep his heartbeat under control as he realized for the first time how many people probably assumed he was a closeted gay.

And despite his better wishes, he was starting to believe it, too.


	23. Perfect

Author's note: Hey, readers of this story. I feel like I have a lot of explaining to do. Recently I've started getting really accusing reviews from a few reviewers about the way I write Kurt and the outfits he wears. I wrote this huge author's note before I started writing this chapter about my perception on Kurt but then I realized how negative some of the comments I was getting were to people who are more on the transvestite or even transgender side, such as Unique from the Glee TV shows, so I took it down because I realized that I didn't need to defend myself against those kinds of comments and try to make it look better than it is, because that would technically be abandoning transvestites and transgenders and be saying that they were in the wrong for being the way they are. Obviously in this story Kurt is neither transvestite nor transgender. By the end of my trilogy I'm going to have him in a variety of outfits, from Blaine's sweatshirts to even going as far as some chapters and putting him in a dress. I don't disrespect him or hate him, I just personally like him in those outfits. Like Kurt, I don't really believe that fashion does have a gender. To those of you who aren't the biggest fans of Kurt's outfits in this story, you can write me with suggestions of something to make him wear and I would gladly look into it, but I just found those comments about Kurt being too "feminine" really harsh to people who do dress that way. I can understand where the comments are coming from, as it is unusual to see a boy be brave enough to put on a dress, but I'm one of those people who think that the strongest of boys could go to homecoming in a dress, or as in the TV show, a kilt. If you really don't like it, don't read my story but I'm not going to change my opinion just because of a few hate messages.

Anyway, off of that topic, this chapter gave me more writer's block than any I've written before. I had this chapter completely outlined, but this is absolutely nothing like the original. I tried writing up the original at least five times in varying ways, but I hated all of them because the characters were either not acting like themselves or it seemed too forced, so I junked all of those because I'll only post something if I feel 98-100% about it. The beginning to this chapter is more radical than anything I've put in this story before, but it introduces Pavarotti! Pavarotti was so much fun to write in to this story. For those of you who are concerned about how I put Pavarotti into this story and the initial abuse he goes through, I just want everyone to know that for almost a year now I've been a vegetarian and worked with PETA and maybe I'll even take a job at a dog shelter down the road next summer, so I promise all of the animal lovers reading this story that even though I introduce Pavarotti in such a horrible way, I've never once been able to yell at an animal. All of my pets are spoiled brats and I've cried every time a fish in my family has passed away, which makes it a dead giveaway that I sobbed when Pavarotti died in the TV show and I really just had to put him in here, so enjoy Pavarotti and hopefully you don't hate me for what I put Blaine through in this chapter! (Don't worry, I swear that everyone lives by the end of it.)

To finish off this long, rambling author's note, I'd like to mention one of my most awesome reviewers, JMarieAllenPoe, who has supported me right from when this story first got published and has some great ideas I'm actually going to start putting in by the next chapter. She's just as much of a Klainer as me, which fills me with so much joy and that feeling I get when I read Klaine fluffiness, and she's awesome at puns, which makes everything better. JMarieAllenPoe: Hopefully after this chapter I can come Out with the next one pretty fast! :)

Anyway, on a final note, in case some of you get mad at Burt during Blaine's dream in this chapter, this is one of Blaine's dreams and I pretty much made it where he's thinking that everything that can go bad will go bad. Burt would actually never ban Blaine from seeing Kurt, but in Blaine's mind it apparently could happen.

I'm done rambling on so disclaimer time! In my reviews Arkell26 listed different ways to say I don't own Glee in different languages, but I'm too lazy to open another window and go to my review page, so hopefully all of you get the gist that I don't own Glee.

* * *

Zombie-shuffling his feet along the walkway that connected Kurt's house to the Lima Bean, where Kurt had desperately been wanting to have a date with Blaine at and sample each and every new, American thing he could before going back home, Blaine tugged his jacket hood further up and crushed his bouncing curls that brushed his cheeks every time the wind changed to a new direction. Tucking one side of them behind his ear, Blaine shifted his gaze over to Kurt who pranced along beside him, his black, Ugg boot covered feet sinking a foot into the solid, crunchy snow not yet plowed off the sidewalks. Although Blaine had insisted on driving Kurt down the block to the Lima Bean, Kurt appeared more than pleasured by wading through the thick snow and sliding around on the ice.

Cocking his brows at Kurt when his feet started sliding on an abrupt patch of ice, Blaine reached his hand out and caught him by the hem of his swishing, silk skirt he paired with a pair of skin-tight, painted on skinnies. "Angel, you're going to slip and fall. Come here." Boldly linking his fingers through Kurt's cashmere gloved hand, Blaine tugged him back into his hold and surprisingly received no reprimanding.

Flushed in his cheeks from the snapping cold, Kurt sidled up further into Blaine's side searching for warmth. "The snow is so beautiful here," Kurt commented idly, kicking the toe of his boot into a mountain of snow at the edge of the sidewalk, "In Paris it rained so much that all we ever saw was hail and frost. It's nice to have such a pretty change."

Blaine nestled Kurt even closer, looping his arm around his waist and nonchalantly tugging his white beret back over his cherry shaded ears when the wind knocked it loose, "Do you still miss it, Kurt?" He instantly damned himself after the words slipped out, and he squeezed his eyes shut in hope that Kurt hadn't heard him or that he thought he was referring to something else.

Kurt glanced up at Blaine's wearied expression, and he quietly wedged himself further into Blaine's side, "Sometimes I do…" he whispered, tearing away his gaze and focusing in with a new fascination on the snow, "but sometimes… it feels like torture to think about leaving Ohio. There are times when I wish we'd never met, Blaine, because now that I'm in love with you I feel so tethered to you. Our love with bind us together forever, and being apart from you… seems unbearable. You're the only person in the world who's ever made me doubt my future of living on a Broadway stage. Mainly because of the dreams I have of us marrying one day, and even without Broadway being a factor in my dreams… I still feel happy. So… if you came out one day and asked me to stay with you and become your husband… I wouldn't refuse."

Fading into silence at that last statement, Blaine rubbed a soothing circle on the small of Kurt's back as they walked, the Lima Bean only a few paces ahead. A mixed feeling of dread, smugness, worry, alarm and bitter sweet craving swept through Blaine at the power he had to destroy Kurt's future. What a selfish bastard he would be to keep Kurt from the future he'd always dreamed of, and tie him down to a low-life, homeless, straight boy who doubted himself a hundred thousand times a day. Rather than admit to such confessions that Blaine would kill a man if only to keep Kurt at his side, but never wanted to torture a dreamless Kurt into playing Blaine's little housewife and nursing for their children all day without much purpose other than loving Blaine at night and satisfying their children during the day, Blaine pursed his lips together and let the subject fall, burying it under the still falling snow behind them, other people's footsteps crushing it into the ground as Blaine left it behind.

After all, he'd always heard that when a person loved something, he had to let it go. The poetic verse suddenly sounded extremely depressing to Blaine, who was just starting to understand why widowers—like Burt—would see a picture of their beloveds and stare at it for hours on end. Richard had always told Blaine that widowers were nothing but a couple of dramatic old spinsters digging for a little sympathetic attention and mourning cards with cash in them in the mail.

Blaine understood now that his dad had never truly fallen in love, not in the way Blaine had. Tightening his grip around Kurt, Blaine squeezed him tighter and nuzzled his hair where the beret didn't cover, near his forehead, and he pressed a kiss to the spot. "I love you," he whispered in Kurt's ear but just as Kurt returned Blaine's gaze and parted his lips to reply he swiftly jerked his head back around, eyeing some commotion across the street.

Suddenly interrupted by a raucously noisy shout followed by a resounding bang, Blaine shoved Kurt behind him in the case that it was an irked homophobe. Scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble, Blaine caught sight of a pudgy, six feet tall man chucking ice chunks and pebbles scattered around the ground at a screaming, frantically flapping bird who blindly darted straight toward the road in his anxious ploy to escape the outraged man. "_Stupid fucking bird!_" the man shrieked, darting after the bird and nearly belly sliding into the road as he cupped his meaty, bear hands around the screeching bird. "I'll teach you to draw blood on me!"

The man disappeared back into his antique shop that looked ready to collapse in on itself, and Blaine immediately glanced over his shoulder at Kurt's drained, startled expression. Deciding his best move would be to get Kurt out of there first and hope that the bird's punishing owner wasn't too far gone to actually kill it, Blaine nudged Kurt in the direction toward the Lima Bean. "Come on, baby," he murmured, pushing at his hips yet Kurt's feet seemed glued into the ground, his round eyes trained to the door of that worn down shack. "Kurt, the bird will be fine. The guy will just put it back in its cage. Angel—"

Blaine hardly managed to release the remainder of his sentence, for in the next two seconds Kurt darted out of his grip, heading straight across the street without any care to the cars heading toward him. "_Kurt!_" Blaine screamed after him, his heart stopping beating for a brief moment at the sight of a car slamming on its brakes to avoid hitting him. "Kurt, don't you dare go in there!" Blasting to his feet behind Kurt, Blaine maneuvered past a honking car and was sure he got flipped off by at least three drivers, but he could barely concentrate on that let alone tear his eyes from where Kurt flung the door open to that shack and vanished inside. "Kurt, get out here _now!_"

Moaning to himself, Blaine ducked inside the building on Kurt's heels, mentally shocked by how dimly lit it was on the interior, seeing as he'd noticed an _Open_ sign on the door. The door clicked shut behind him and Blaine was submerged in darkness, his only light streaming from a yellowing light bulb twisted into a lamp on a desk where it looked like people might check out. "Kurt," Blaine hissed, impatiently blinking his eyes to force them to adjust to the darkness. "Kurt, where the hell are you?"

Alerted by a scratching noise on the other side of the square, box-like shop and a soft cooing noise, Blaine jerked his head around in that direction and swore that tears blurred his vision as he noticed Kurt's bundled up form knelt down against the wall by something. Nearly knocking a table down in his shaky stride to reach Kurt, Blaine tried to keep his heart from bruising his rib cage it pounded so hard, and when he reached Kurt he threw himself down beside him and nearly crushed him in half as he bow-tied him to his chest firmly. "You scared me to freaking death, Kurt," Blaine mumbled into Kurt's hair, "Don't you ever do something like that again. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Kurt whispered, his hands cupping something apparently far more interesting than Blaine's worries over him, "Blaine, we need to find a vet, please. His wing is broken and won't fold down and he has a bloody spot on his forehead. I think his tag on his foot might be digging at his leg, too. Don't worry, we're going to take care of you. Don't be afraid."

Blaine, for the first time, realized that Kurt had a miniature canary perched in his palms, the sunshine colored bird aimlessly flapping his left wing that was visibly bent at an odd angle. Not noticeably aggressive, the bird scratched with his left toes at his right foot, where—as Kurt had said—a band with a number printed on it had dug a bloody spot into the skin and were it left to sit any longer would probably grow into the scaly skin. Kurt cooed to the bird when it chirped at him, a small smile curving his lips. "I think I'll call you Pavarotti."

Arching his brows at the bird, Blaine stroked a finger down its back but swiftly withdrew when the bird frizzled up and stretched out his wings. Kurt giggled, "Blaine, he wasn't being aggressive. He was asking for more. I have a feeling you've never had a good stroking, have you?" Kurt ran his finger down the bird's back in the same way Blaine had, and it bent his head forward longingly.

"Kurt…" Blaine cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Are you sure you should be naming him? The bird isn't yours. Besides, Burt would never approve of having a pet in the house—"

Kurt jerked his hands away from Blaine, his eyes shooting to his face, "But, Blaine, I can't leave him here! You saw what that awful man was doing to him! Blaine, he's hurt—" Gasping when a hand shot through the darkness and grasped firmly onto his shoulder, ripping him to his feet, Kurt cowered away when a meaty hand raised in the air as though prepared to slap him.

"Hey!" Blaine shouted, jolting to his feet and pushing Kurt and the bird behind him again, "Grab him like that again and you'll never grab anything again!"

The man from outside emerged into the dusting of light, providing both Kurt and Blaine with a flash of his sweaty, grooved face, his lips tugged into a deep, permanent grimace. Behind him Kurt gasped and folded his bird into the flap of his coat, guarding him from his horrendous owner. Spotting Kurt's secretive stance, the man's entire face melted into a frown, his jaws drooping down over his neck, "What the 'ell are you two doing with my bird?" Despite the thick crossover accent somewhere between British and New Jersey, Blaine managed to make out the majority of the words then filled in the rest.

Stepping further in front of Kurt, Blaine lied through his teeth, "We don't have your bird. We were just curious about your shop. We'll head out now." Grasping down on Kurt's sleeve, Blaine yanked him toward the door and wheeled away from the grungy man when a finger as thick as a hot dog jabbed into his back.

"Your little thief boyfriend better put my bird back," the man grumbled, and Kurt's spine stiffened, "That bird cost me a whole two years' worth of salary, that it did. Nippy little bastard, for what I paid for it. Planning on putting it to my money's worth tomorrow."

"These are the birds that drug lords are skinning for their feathers," Blaine stated more than he questioned, "You're going to sell him tomorrow to a drug lord for drugs. And then he'll be skinned alive."

Kurt's mouth fell open and he tightened his coat, "What? Blaine, is that true? Wait, you can't do that! It's cruel and wrong and someone is going to turn you in to the police—"

"Kurt," Blaine whispered to him, touching him on his chest. "Let me do this, okay—?"

"No," the man's gnarled lips curved up at the corners at Kurt, revealing a shark tooth grin, "let him talk. Tell you what, if you give me a better offer in the next twenty seconds I'll give you the bird. But my prices are high. Start talking, homo."

Panting harshly under the pressure, Kurt blurted, "Wait, I'm a model! I'm about to do a photo shoot in New York. It will pay well. If I give you the money, can I have Pavarotti? Please, that's all I have to offer." Slowly growing desperate to have the bird, Kurt choked out, "Please… I'll do anything."

The man pretended to consider the offer for a brief moment, then shrugged a shoulder, "Nope. How do I know you're not scamming me and won't give me the money when you get back? I need something _now._ You're a model, you say? And that you'll do anything? I want proof that you're good enough to be model-worthy."

Just from holding Kurt's arm Blaine could feel the boy shaking hard enough that he was probably minutes from collapsing of pure fear of what would happen in the next few seconds, but bravely Kurt managed to get out, "How? Should I call my manager?"

Snorting, the man waved that offer out of the air, "How naïve of you. No, I want you to take off your clothes and put on a show for me. All models act like tramps. Go on, get started—"

"No!" Blaine snapped, his fists curling and uncurling, "He's not fucking doing that! What else do you want?"

In a flash of movement the man slammed Blaine into a table, his grimy fingers tearing a screaming Pavarotti from Kurt's fingers. In his rage he chucked the flightless bird across the room to keep it as far from Kurt and Blaine as possible, and Kurt opened his mouth in a screaming form when the bird smacked into a chair then dropped to the ground, but no sound slipped from his lips. "I want my bird back, that's what I want! Keep your faggy asses off my property before I call the cops!"

Bursting into the tears he had been holding in for the past five minutes, Kurt threw himself at the man and slammed his curled fists into his stomach, "_Call the cops?_ You of all people deserve to be sitting in a jail cell! That's animal abuse and you're the cruelest man I've ever met! You could have killed him! Let me see him!" Kurt cried out something in French when the man raised his beefy hand and slapped it right across Kurt's cheek, sending him dropping to the floor in a motionless pile.

Blaine's lips parted at the sight of Kurt lying in a curled up ball on the musty floor, his body perfectly still, and his vision blurred out into a black vacancy of sheer wrath. Chucking himself at the man, Blaine threw his curled fist into the man's eye, knocking him back a step. He countered Blaine's move by shoving him in the chest, which caused him to back into the same table he'd been thrown at before. Relentlessly Blaine slugged the guy's face, the two of them battling punch for punch until Blaine drew his knee up and jammed it in between the guy's leg. The man bent over with a howl of pain, so Blaine finished him off with a firm kick of his foot to the middle of his forehead. Teetering, the man finally fell sideways and collapsed onto the floor, allowing Blaine the decent time to toss himself down by Kurt, who'd been hit hard enough to knock him unconscious. A trickle of blood dripped from his busted lip, the skin around it pulsating and rash red, raw in the chilly atmosphere of the shop.

Completely blanking about the bird in his concern for getting Kurt home, Blaine forklifted his arms under Kurt's shoulder blades and thighs, lifting him against his chest and he ignored the throbbing in his own bloodied and bruised face. Focused in on limping his way home with Kurt laying like deadweight in his arms, Blaine hardly noticed the quiet chirping from the back of the store and let the door swing shut behind him.

It was a mistake he never should have let happen.

* * *

Burt carried two more buckets full of ice and rags down the stairs to Kurt's bedroom, where a still bleeding Blaine was meticulously tucking and un-tucking the blankets around Kurt's resting body, the former appearing more than ready to collapse on the bed just as Kurt was. Nursing Kurt's lip with a cloth and ice, Blaine glanced up at the intrusion and frowned guiltily at Burt, who set the buckets down and picked up one of the rags to dab at the cut right above Blaine's eyebrow.

Blaine allowed the touch to happen, even as Burt tucked his long ringlets behind his ear to check the cut by his ear. "What on earth happened today?" Burt muttered, continuing to dab, "You both look like the blade on a fan cut you open."

Sighing, Blaine set the rag for Kurt's lip aside so he didn't irritate it more with too much doting, and he brushed his hair back with the fake comb his fingers made, "This… asshole was abusing a bird in the street today and Kurt ran up to him. I'm guessing you can see how that turned out."

Burt frowned sympathetically and patted Blaine on the shoulder, "You should get used to situations like that. Kurt's never let anyone get by with abusing an animal—just like his mother. As much as his modeling company encourages it, Kurt's never worn any of their real animal furs. Everything's faux with him."

"What about his leather pants?" Blaine muttered, sliding into the center of the bed and stroking his fingers through Kurt's hair.

"It's some kind of material that looks and feels identical to leather, but isn't." Burt shrugged a shoulder, "I don't know, I guess Kurt is just too kind hearted to wear an animal. You know what happened to that bird? If a shelter took it in?"

Blaine shook his head, his head dropping, "I don't know. I guess I was so worried about Kurt that I left the bird there. I think it was dead when we left because the guy chucked it at a chair. There wasn't much I could do for it at that point. I hope this doesn't bother Kurt too much over the holidays."

"You did what you could," Burt twitched a shoulder, "Get washed up and come up and eat in a little bit, alright? Kurt will be fine. I know a concussion when I see one but he's fine. A little bruised and bloody, but fine."

Blaine attempted to nod his head, wondering how Kurt might react when he awoke and saw that Pavarotti was still locked up with that psycho man. He closed his eyes and blew out heavily. "Okay, Burt. When Kurt wakes up I'll get him to eat something, too. He probably won't have an appetite but I can try."

Burt nodded and patted him on the shoulder again, "Alright, kid. Rest easy tonight or you'll have a throbbing headache tomorrow."

His eyes followed Burt's steps up the stairs until the door clicked shut behind him, and he glimpsed down at Kurt whose usually pink face was completely drained of color, his blond lashes fluttering and brushing his cheeks, so Blaine leaned down lovingly and indented a kiss to his forehead. "I love you," he whispered to Kurt, swinging his legs off the bed and heading for the shower to at least attempt at cleaning off the dirt, but nothing could clean the dirty feeling in his stomach… like he had done something very wrong, and it was really bothering him to fix it.

* * *

_Blaine tilted his face away from the blinding white sun and focused in on the green and brown patches of earth under his feet. Somewhere by his toe a beetle crawling up a piece of grass like it was an Olympic worthy task flipped onto its back, writhing to right itself again. Doing so, he darted back in the direction he came from, avoiding touching Blaine at all costs. A hoot of laughter wheeled his body around, and he faced what appeared to be a picnic in mid-swing in a park at a location he wasn't sure of. A banner hung between the branches of two trees, waving the slow and graceful Miss America wave as the light breeze drifted through it and around it. _Tenth Year Reunion!_ the sign stated in bold letters, and he jerked his face around trying to catch the faces of some of these people._

_Had he taken Kurt out to a picnic, unaware of some tenth generation senior class celebrating their first decade of being out of school in this park? Did he even know of a park in Lima? And where the hell was Kurt?_

_Catching sight of a dark haired man who looked, at most, in his late twenties, chasing a Frisbee and shouting to a shaggy haired blond guy who had a strangely familiar face, Blaine strode over to the guy and cleared his throat just as the guy crashed to the ground with the Frisbee in his hands. His cheering cut short by Blaine's presence, the guy ran his fingers through his hair to assure that the half an inch locks were still sticking straight up, but his casual expression went blank as he bounced back to his feet and met Blaine's eye straight on._

_Amazed at how identical this guy looked to Finn, only with brackets formed around his thin lips and crow's feet scratched into the corners of his eyes, Blaine shook the idea from his head and rolled his shoulders helplessly, "Um… hey. I was wondering if you'd seen an eighteen year old boy, about six feet tall with brown hair and blue eyes."_

_The guy's face washed of any emotion, then his brows slowly lifted to his hairline and he grunted, "You're kidding, right? Blaine, that's a sick joke. Look, I get that you hate all of us but don't come to these reunions just to crash them. Unlike you, some of us actually want to have fun at these things."_

_When the guy spun away and started marching off to a picnic table full of chatting, familiar faces, Blaine's jaw dropped to the ground and he chased after him, "Wait… What the hell are you talking about? How do you know me? I'm not a part of your class reunion. I'm just trying to find my—" Blaine froze mid-sentence, wondering how to explain to this guy what Kurt was to him, so he swiftly finished, "—boyfriend."_

_The man wheeled around again, throwing his hands apart, "Are you _sick_ or something? Of course you don't belong here but, like it or not, you're a part of this class. And don't you dare try to mess with Kurt again. You guys might have dated for, like, two months back in high school, but he's not eighteen anymore and you're not his husband. If you mess with him or Dave when they show up, you're going to have to leave."_

_Blaine's entire body froze. _He_ was a part of this class? They knew Kurt? Kurt was older now? Shifting his gaze around so it was directed toward one of the car windows parked in the lot, his breathing stopped the minute he made out his reflection. Although much hadn't been done to his face over the years, he must have cut off his hair somewhere along the way because the draping locks were a simple pile of curls atop his head, drooping partially over his forehead. Aware of the cut making him look mid-twenties, Blaine brushed his fingers over his stubbly jaw, the shadowy prickles slicing at his fingertips._

"S_hit," Blaine whispered, half in awe and half ready to scream at his own nightmare coming to life. Whipping his head around, Blaine saw the man who must have been Finn pacing away from him again. "Wait!" he called after him, tearing after Finn's heels and nearly nailing him in the back he skid to such a sudden halt behind him, "What do you mean, Kurt and Dave? Who the fuck is Dave?"_

_Finn sighed in annoyance and backtracked, turning to face Blaine, "Dammit, Blaine, you know who Dave is. David Karofsky. When Kurt dumped you, David took your place and the two of them are married now. Kurt was kind enough to invite you to his wedding but instead you chose to sit at home and have a threesome with two male prostitutes to drown your misery. I know you're probably trying to cover up all that went down senior year, but all of what happened was your fault, you know."_

_Blaine's heart quenched like he'd just been told that the air he was breathing was poisonous. "Kurt's married?" his voice came out a pitch too high, and he cleared his throat, "To Karofsky? But Karofsky wants to kill him! Dammit, that can't be true! Why would Kurt do something like that? He loves me! He wouldn't have dumped me!"_

"_We all thought so, too," Finn shrugged a shoulder, "You guys were great together. But when you left that bird at that one shop Kurt mentioned and Kurt went back alone to get the bird that was already dead at that point but then the drug dealers were there and raped him, Burt made a good choice to ban you from seeing him. He asked you to protect Kurt… and you didn't. You should have known he'd want to go back. You should have stayed awake with him. David would have. Besides, Kurt could have woken up and had severe head trauma and needed you, but you decided that sleeping off _your_ bruises and scratches was more important than him. He could have been killed and you weren't there for him. Look, Blaine, you know all of this stuff so I'm not going to re-cap for you. Is Santana with you?"_

_Blaine's frown deepened, his head still trying to wrap around all of this information, "Why would Santana be with me?"_

"_Oh, I don't know," Finn shook his head sardonically, "Maybe because you married her? Or is she at couples' counseling today? Or maybe she's with Brittany. She's been saying that you guys haven't had sex in over six years. No wonder she took a mistress. I've gotta go find Rachel, Blaine. Whatever medication your marriage counselor put you on… get off of it. Jeez, it's like you don't remember _anything_. I'm really, really sorry that your life sucks, Blaine, but there's nothing I can do for you. You had this coming after you let Kurt get raped by thugs." Glimpsing over his shoulder when another car pulled into an empty space, Finn's brows shot up again, "Speak of the devil."_

_Waving his hand in the air at the tinted windows of the car, Finn grinned from ear to ear and pranced over to the car, murmuring something Blaine didn't catch when the driver and passenger doors pushed open. On the driver's side, a broad shouldered brick wall stepped out, hair still buzzed short with premature gray streaks painted at the roots of the dark cut, his squinted eyes pushed back into his face and his lips sticking out much further than they should have, making him appear distorted, as though he had an invisible fun house mirror in front of his face. Switching his gaze from Karofsky to the stunningly beautiful form stepping out of the car on the passenger side, Blaine felt his breath whoosh out of his lungs at the sight of how good Kurt looked, even after ten years._

_The time passing had done little to nothing to Kurt's features, his face still so youthful and pure, cheeks rosy and eyes as pretty as they always had been, just a little more vacant and dark than what he remembered. Although he appeared to be gazing at Finn, his direct vision wandered off to somewhere else almost instantly, the smile curving his full, pink lips far too practiced and pasted on. Finn leaned into Kurt for a one armed hug that Kurt idly returned, but rather than let the embrace continue for more than a few seconds, Karofsky forced a laugh and jerked Kurt out of Finn's grip. Kurt briefly stumbled and flinched, cowering obediently into Karofsky's side as Karofsky rubbed his back a bit too firmly and whispered something in Kurt's ear, his mouth tightening firmly as he spat out whatever he wanted to say. A moment later Kurt nodded his head, tearing his eyes as far as he could from Finn's face._

_For some reason, the marital abuse didn't surprise Blaine._

_Studying Kurt and the very essence of his painful beauty, Blaine shook an image of Kurt screaming for Blaine in the arms of those drug dealing thugs out of his head. He couldn't think about that or else he'd go insane._

_Abruptly Kurt's face turned back around, and the angel caught Blaine's eye from afar. At first Kurt's face remained blank, almost as if he didn't even know Blaine, but then his eyes slowly widened and he mumbled something to Karofsky. He slipped free of Karofsky's grip, and because they were in a public place Karofsky could do nothing but glare at the back of Kurt's head, his fingers curling and uncurling like he was privately imagining strangling Kurt for abandoning him._

_Kurt bravely stopped in front of Blaine, and Blaine's entire body began shaking despite his initial urge to yank Kurt into his arms, tilt his head back and kiss Kurt like it would be their last. He wanted to remove the touch of those thugs and Karofsky, although he didn't see much of a difference between the two, but instead he reached out and brushed his thumb over Kurt's cheek. Kurt blinked but didn't withdraw. "Baby…" Blaine whispered, blanking out the fact that it had apparently been ten years since either of them had spoken. He saw the face he'd last seen, unconscious on the bed with an irritated cut on his lip. He noticed a tiny scar on the bottom of Kurt's lip where the cut must have engraved itself as an everyday reminder of that horrendous day, and he smoothed his thumb over it. "There's a scar."_

_Kurt briefly nodded his head, his hand unsurely lifting to touch Blaine's. The brush of their fingers zapped Blaine's skin, and the same must have happened to Kurt because he flushed a brighter color. "Yes," his accent was thicker than Blaine ever remembered it being, and he assumed that Kurt must have gone back to Paris at some point. The melodic voice sent chills down Blaine's spine, and he wrapped his fingers around Kurt's. "The physical is much nicer of a sacrifice than what the mental will ever be after what happened that night." Kurt tilted his head at Blaine, his brows furrowing, "How have you been, Blaine? How is Santana?"_

_Blaine shook his head, still amazed by the mind-blowingly gorgeous accent dripping off of Kurt's tongue with every word. He could have listened to him speak all day. "I-I don't know. You look beautiful, Kurt."_

_Kurt's flush deepened to a strawberry shade, and he stared down at his shoes, "You look good, too. I, um… should probably go back to David now. It bothers him, you know… when I spend too much time around other men. It was nice seeing you, Blaine." Retracting himself from Blaine's grip, he waved briefly then spun away but Blaine swiftly lashed out and yanked him back by his belt loop._

"_Wait!" Blaine demanded desperately, and Kurt glanced over his shoulder with concerned eyes, "Kurt… Kurt, what happened? Why did you marry Karofsky? He abuses you—!"_

_Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he shook his head wildly, "Please, don't shout that. Please. I really can't talk any longer, Blaine."_

_Blaine jerked Kurt against his chest, startling the younger boy into crying out and attempting to struggle free. "Blaine! This isn't right! I'm married now and I can't be doing this with you—"_

_Cutting Kurt off by crushing his lips over Kurt's, Blaine plastered his hands to either of Kurt's cheeks and tossed his head back. Kurt made a quiet sound of rejection at first, keeping his arms wedged between their bodies, but as Blaine parted his lips on Kurt's and forced Kurt's open, his tongue sliding out and licking a warm line across the bottom of Kurt's lips, Kurt released what sounded like what could have been a moan. His body started to go supple in Blaine's arms, as Blaine knew exactly where Kurt's sweet spots were and how to make his body melt. Kurt's fist uncurled and his lips softened on Blaine's, his own tongue shyly poking out and brushing Blaine's._

_The strong taste of what might have been a beefy substance that probably belonged to Karofsky's own mouth began fading from Kurt's sweet, naturally candy tasting mouth as Blaine licked his tongue across Kurt's teeth and the roof of his mouth, and finally Kurt surrendered everything he had over to Blaine as his arms limply slipped around Blaine's neck. "Wait," he whispered, drawing back briefly, "My body's been used by other men. What we had in high school was pure, Blaine… Do you still want me even if I'm… used?"_

_Blaine leaned into Kurt and pressed his face against his, nuzzling gently, "It's been too long a time since you've been loved the right way by a man, hasn't it? I still love you, Kurt."_

_Kurt worriedly curled himself against Blaine, his eyes attempting to flutter close peaceably, as though he wasn't sure if being held affectionately against a man's chest was a good thing or not. "I never stopped," he admitted quietly, tears flirting with the rims of his eyes, "I never blamed you for what happened that night. I should have woken you before I left. I was just so panicked to get to Pavarotti that I… left without saying a word. My dad feels horrible for keeping us apart now. He just assumed that you let me go alone without much concern and thought my judgment might be impaired or that I was just trying to protect what we had in high school when I told him the truth. I wanted to talk to you or something but I was so afraid that you would reject me because I married David."_

"_I'd never reject you, Kurt," Blaine smoothed his hair, trying to assure him that he wasn't going to be slapped or thrown to the ground, "But, sweetheart, why would you do that? Marry him? You were scared to death of him in high school."_

_Kurt shook his head, "I still am, Blaine. He forced me to. A week after my dad pulled me out of McKinley David approached me and told me he'd kill you if I didn't marry him. And he told me that if I told anyone of his threat, he would have tortured you to death and raped me right in front of you. It seems as if life hasn't been kind to either of us."_

_Pressing his lips to Kurt's nose, Blaine whispered, "I'm going to take you away from all of that, Kurt. Let's go somewhere. I'll get you away from Karofsky and then _I'm_ going to marry you. I'll love you the right way."_

_Kurt's lashes lowered partially over his eyes, and he kept his voice at a low whisper as his fingertips brushed Blaine's bristly cheeks, "You're mad. We can't just leave. It's been ten years, Blaine. There's a lot more to think about than just sweeping me off my feet and carrying me off to the castle in the sky. We're not teenagers anymore, Blaine. Those kinds of fantasies are over."_

_Abruptly, a brawny hand shot through Blaine's vision and clasped Kurt's shoulder, throwing him to the ground and slamming into Blaine's face. Startled by the blow, Blaine stumbled back and held his hand up to his face just as Kurt cried out his name from the ground, Karofsky's hand grasping the collar of his shirt and his other hand drawn back into a fist. Kurt cringed away from the fist, and right as Blaine shouted for Karofsky to stop a shower of sparks rained in his vision and he lashed out for Kurt the moment Karofsky brought his fist down—_

Blaine's body jolted to a sitting position, and he dizzily blinked his eyes to clear the dark spots from jerking up so suddenly from such a dark sleep. Panting, Blaine flung his hands up to his perspiring face and lifted his eyes when his knuckle brushed one of his dark ringlets that swung down in his eye. Gratefully sliding his fingers down to his smooth shaven jaw, Blaine glanced down at his naked body, spying the same body he'd gone to sleep in, no signs of aging wearing his skin down whatsoever. He also touched his left hand where his ring finger rested bare and unmarred by a ring cinching it presently or any signs of a ring once being there.

Tears of relief nearly sprang from his eyes that the life he'd dreamt of just now wasn't the life he was currently living.

At the quiet sound of soft breathing beside him, Blaine glanced down at the bed where beside him Kurt lay face down in the sheets, his fingers clutching the pillow and his face turned away from Blaine. Considering that when Blaine slipped into bed beside him Kurt had been laying on his back, he must have stirred to consciousness while Blaine slept and rolled onto his stomach. He appeared peaceful in his sleep, his body finally relaxed and melted into the bed, which soothed Blaine's worries that he'd be in any discomfort the next few days while he healed.

Rolling slightly onto his side in his needy state to touch Kurt, Blaine conformed himself to Kurt's back in a spooning fashion and leaned over his body in order to brush his lips across Kurt's cheek and fluttering eyelids. Kurt murmured softly in his sleep and wriggled, but Blaine swiftly smoothed his finger over the the shell of his ear soothingly, "Shh… Go back to sleep, angel. It's just me. I love you."

At the soft words Kurt's body stilled again and he silently pressed himself back into the pillows, one of his bare legs slipping behind him an inch and wedging between Blaine's legs. His right arse cheek pushed against Blaine's groin, and, although tempted, Blaine couldn't bring himself to snuggle with Kurt until morning. Still on edge about his dream and what it could have possibly meant about where his life was headed if he didn't go back for the bird, Blaine imagined all of the horrendous happenings if Kurt decided to go for the bird alone, so in all honesty Blaine only had one option.

He could drive down to that worn down shack in five minutes tops, bargain for the bird, then get back here in another five minutes, before Kurt even woke. And when Kurt woke up and found Pavarotti residing at his bedside Christmas Day morning, Kurt would finally have his own Christmas wish and Blaine could stop dreading that what was told to him in the dream wouldn't actually happen in reality.

Groaning at the thought of leaving his warm bed and stopping spooning Kurt in favor of walking through the snow to that ape-like man's shop for a bird that might or might not be dead—or extremely close to it—he peeled himself from Kurt's body and slid quietly off the bed. He padded across the floor and knelt down by his own drawers, where he kept the six hundred dollars Coop had mailed him for gas money and paying Burt back for letting him live in his home—even though he never accepted the money. He scooped up all six hundred of it while spotting the ring box and three wrapped up presents behind it, his gifts to Kurt and Burt.

Shaking his head and shutting the drawer back, Blaine checked over his shoulder at Kurt who still lay perfectly immobile, his shoulders lifting and dropping with every silent breath he took, but other than that he seemed fairly deep in his sleep. He rose to his feet and opened another drawer, yanking out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. After slipping those and a pair of shoes on he headed for the stairs, padding up them as quietly as he possibly could in case Kurt suddenly decided to be a light sleeper and awaken. The last thing he needed was Kurt pleading to come with him. He needed to handle something like this alone—the first time he'd ever been stronger without Kurt at his side.

He pushed through the door and quietly shut it back behind him, turning back around and nearly dropping to the floor of a heart attack when another figure moved across the room. Narrowing his eyes in on Burt, who must have been heading back to his room with a fresh glass of water, Blaine whispered, "Sorry I'm up, I was just… hungry."

Burt cocked his brows at him, "Is that why you have a stack of hundred dollar bills in your hand? That fancy filet mignon stuff Kurt fixes up sometimes doesn't even cost that much. You don't have to pay to use our kitchen. You going somewhere, kid? You're all dressed up. I hope you're not running away."

Blaine closed his eyes and licked his lips, "I… I'm going back for that bird. It's been bugging the hell out of me that Kurt's going to be devastated if he doesn't have it and maybe go back alone for it, so I just… I'm going to get it. No matter what I have to do. If Kurt were to go back by himself for the bird… bad things would happen to him, Burt. He's not meant to be dealing with those kind of men that have the bird."

Musing over that, Burt finally nodded his head and returned to the kitchen. Minutes later he emerged with a pocket knife and placed it into Blaine's palms, "I want you to take this, kid. I'm not asking you to kill anyone, but you're going to need to defend yourself if that money's not enough. I've fought around with people and I want you to know that if you do need to knock someone out, pinch the vein at the back of the neck. It sticks out further than the rest and it'll instantly put them out. You have your phone? I want you to call me if you get hurt, and when you leave the place call the police. They'll shut that guy's dealer's shop down pretty damn fast. You understand me?"

Blaine nodded his head, slowly backing away from Burt, "Oh, and… Burt? I don't want Kurt finding out about this. If he finds out I left without him, he might want to follow me. And I don't want him anywhere near that shop let alone leaving the house by himself at this time of night. Please… keep this between us?"

Burt agreed with a simple twitch of his shoulders, then reached out and patted Blaine's shoulder, "Blaine? I couldn't have asked for anyone better for Kurt to fall in love with. You've done him no wrong and treat him like gold. That's all I've ever wanted for him. You're gonna be careful out there. You're like my second son and if anything were to happen to you…" He shook his head to deny himself of even thinking the idea, then leaned forward and shockingly wrapped a single arm around Blaine. Releasing Blaine almost instantly, Burt patted his shoulder once more before turning away and lumbering off to his bedroom.

Blaine breathed about two breaths as he stared after Burt, jealous that he got to return to his bed while Blaine was caught between risking his life to keep Kurt in safety and bring him home his bird, and simply returning to his bed and allowing every corrupt thing in his dream to slowly come to life.

And all it took was imagining those thugs tethering a screaming Kurt to a bed for him to step toward the front door then shut it behind him.

* * *

Blaine's feet hit the crunchy ice that suddenly didn't appear as beautiful as it did that morning, his lips numb and his body aching with dread of what was to come in the next minute of his life. Flipping his sweatshirt hood over his head to block out some of the chill, Blaine fingered the knife and money in his pocket with the same feeling he did when he played those stupid mafia video games with Cooper and was attempting to break into a bank.

Storming up to the doorway of the old shack and peering through the dust caked windows, Blaine could hear his heart pounding faster than it should have as he brushed his fingers over the dirt covered, rusting door handle and snuck through the door. Just as that morning, the entire building was dead quiet enough that a pen could have been heard hitting the floor, the only light buzzing from that flickering lamp on the abandoned desk. In the dark of the night the store had an even eerier glow about it, some of the antiques appearing like they had come straight from the set of a horror movie.

Blaine tightened his hand around the knife until his knuckles whitened, stepping over an assortment of busted porcelain dolls labeled with the price of two dollars each, termites eating away at the worn material of the dolls' dresses. The nasty bugs scattered for the cracks in the floorboard when Blaine passed by. Hearing something crack nearby, Blaine whipped around only to breathe in relief when he spied a wiry bird cage residing on one of the miniature tables. A weak, wobbly Pavarotti perched on the single rod inside, his head drooped down as his chest lifted and dropped speedily, like he couldn't suck in enough air. "Pavarotti," Blaine whispered, practically leaping over a broken cabinet with the door hanging off by a single hinge.

While pure ecstasy filled his bones that he didn't have to go home to Kurt and tell him on such a joyful holiday that his bird was dead, Blaine dreaded how much longer Pavarotti could hold on before Blaine could get him some help. Pulling at the cage door until the wire holding it closed snapped, Blaine reached inside and cupped the tiny bird in his palms, hushing him quiet when he chirped and fluttered his good wing. "It's okay, Pavarotti," Blaine assured the cold feathered bird, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

The bird twittered again and nipped at the skin on the inside of Blaine's thumb, more of an appreciation symbol than one of a threatening motion. Tucking the bird into the pouch on the outside of his sweatshirt, Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder to check if that man might be up and about, but surprisingly he wasn't around. Maybe he'd gotten off lucky and wouldn't even have to bargain. Assuring Pavarotti of that, Blaine stroked his finger over the bird's head when he stuck his beak out of Blaine's sweatshirt for one last look at his former home, "I'm taking you home now, Pavarotti. Your owner is going to be so good to you. He's going to love you."

Pavarotti chirped and fluttered again, tilting his head up to eye Blaine. He blinked his black, beady eyes and Blaine couldn't help but feel a smile curving his lips as he headed toward the door, still murmuring comfortingly to Pavarotti about Kurt's name and how beautiful he was and how spoiled Pavarotti would be by him. Pushing the door open, Blaine cupped his hand over Pavarotti's peaking hole to protect the bird's wounds from the cold air when out of nowhere a knife flung through the air and slit into the wall right beside Blaine's head.

Whipping around to face the man rather than run across the ice to his car and risk falling and crushing Pavarotti, Blaine narrowed his eyes in order to see better and ducked aside as another knife flew through the air. "_You again!_" the man finally emerged from behind a few bookshelves and growled at Blaine, pointing to his sweatshirt, "You put my bird back this instant or I'll call the cops!"

Keeping himself calm just so another fight like the one earlier wouldn't boil up again, Blaine attempted to murmur in what he hoped was a casual voice, "Yes, and then I'll tell them why you were keeping this bird. The bird is mine. I have the money. Here, six hundred bucks." Tossing the rubber banded money at the man, Blaine started to slip back through the door but noticed something brush his foot.

Glancing down, Blaine spotted the entire stack kicked back across the room to him. He lifted his head and met the man's eyes, "What? There's plenty of money to buy enough pot and weed to keel you over, I don't see why you're unhappy with the amount."

Pavarotti poked his beak into Blaine's hand, trying to get a front row seat to the brewing debate over who kept him, but Blaine remained holding his hand there in case Pavarotti slipped and fell to the floor, breaking his already fragile body in half. The man stepped further of the shadows, his face beat red with splotches of purple smothering it. "You didn't bring your little model slut back, did you?"

"No, he wasn't interested in sex from you. I'm leaving that money there and I'm taking Pavarotti. Canaries can be bought for sixty dollars at most pet shops. I gave you enough money to pay you back for ten of him." Still holding open the door, Blaine backed out of it but the man made a step forward, his squinted eyes darkening.

"I don't want money," he growled gutturally, shoving a bedside nightstand aside, "For all the trouble you and your friend have caused me I want something to pay me back that's even better than money. It's been a long time since I've taken a prostitute. Your friend was far more of a looker than you are, but you'll have to do. I want pleasured by you."

A shock of electricity jumped through Blaine's skin, and he took another step back. Sickly imagining prostituting for this idiot, Blaine's stomach twisted up on itself as he held down a gag. "Do you?" he murmured, arching a single brow, "Well, I'm not a prostitute and nor am I desperate. I have a beautiful boyfriend waiting for me at home, so take the money or else you'll get nothing for Pavarotti."

"Good, then," the man grumbled just as pleasantly, "So, I can follow your car and find out where you live then take your little boyfriend instead. I've never tasted another man's dick. I think I should like to try."

Blaine peeled his lips back over his teeth, "Fuck you." He could picture it fully now, Kurt in this exact position, crying out for Blaine to rescue him as this slob advanced on him and—he stabbed the image out of his mind, his fingers still rubbing the knife. "I'm not a prostitute. I'm not even good in bed. You wouldn't want me."

"Oh," The man turned his attention away from Blaine concisely, drawing something out of his back pocket and he lifted his hand, full of a black shotgun and held it up to Blaine. Releasing the safety on it, he cocked it and thumbed the trigger. "Does this change your mind, faggy ass?"

Of all the scenarios in the world, Blaine had never once expected himself to be faced down at gun point with the threat of rape hanging over his head. Despite the situation, he was startled to find himself in this calm, dream-like state of thinking of everything he could do at that point. If he approached the man in an aggressive manner to stab him, he'd get shot. If he ran for it, he'd get shot. If he surrendered Pavarotti, Kurt would come after him and be raped. None of those circumstances sounded all that great to him.

For what felt like hours but was really only a few seconds they stood at that stand-still, one holding a gun, the other cogitating each and every move he might be able to make that would let him live. At last, Blaine realized that there was really only one solution and reached down for the zipper of his pants. The man perked up and automatically set the gun aside. "Good choice," he grumbled appreciatively, but Blaine simply remained silent and mentally wanting to tear this douche bag's head off as he fished through the slot of his boxers for his limp cock that would have been pulsating on the verge of explosion had it been Kurt approaching him with the promise of a blow job in store. "So…" Blaine snarled, "How many other poor kids have you molested for a bargain? Am I not the first?"

The man stalked up to Blaine and at first Blaine's initial, mindless reaction was to withdraw and snap his legs up tight, but he managed to immobilize himself and pull his cock out by the base, exposing it to the cool draft of the shop. More than once was Blaine mentally grateful that he'd come here instead of Kurt.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the knife between his fingers, hating every moment with a fiery disgust that rolled his stomach and made him want to throw up had he eaten anything recently. The man lowered to his knees in front of Blaine and Blaine gagged aloud as the man's tangy, sour cream and onion chip scented breath wafted around his unreactive cock. Clapping his hand over his mouth as another gag worked its way up and his eyes watered from the burn of gagging, Blaine managed to hold himself steady by gripping onto the table behind him and waited about another three seconds before lowering his hand to the knife and ripping it out of his pocket. Just as the man's lips formed an _o_ around his cock and were about to close down on it he slashed the knife across the man's cheek and kicked him in the face similar as he had done that morning.

The man fell backwards and howled in pain, which caused Pavarotti to act up and flap his wings anxiously. Ignoring the constant thudding against his stomach, Blaine bent over the man when he rolled onto his stomach and clutched his bleeding cheek, reaching down and pinching onto the vein popping out on the back of his neck. It protruded even further with all of his screaming, allowing Blaine a better shot at it. The man bucked and shouted to escape Blaine's grip, but Blaine held him down by planting a foot on his back and pinned his writhing body to the floor. After a few, less frantic twitches the man's body stilled and his lips parted, his breathing still raging faster than it should have.

Unable to move his body for several seconds in shock that he'd actually overpowered a rapist, Blaine swung his leg off of him and pressed his cock back into his pants. Relief and nerves made him stumble a step back, unsure what to think of the body on the floor and what to do with it until the man woke up. He swiftly spun around and headed for the door with Pavarotti still tweeting in his pouch, and he bent down to collect the money back up. Feebly darting out of the doors in hopes of never having to face another situation like that again or even pass by this very shop—he'd be finding a new route to the Lima Bean soon—Blaine slid his phone into his shaking hand and dialed Burt's number, then pressed it to his ear.

The only sound capable of being heard in his deafened ears was the ringing from the phone, but he didn't have to wait long because Burt picked up almost immediately, "Blaine, are you okay?"

Blaine licked his lips to warm the dried surfaces from the cool air, "Yeah, I—I'm fine… Burt. I'm coming home now and I have Pavarotti."

"Have you called the police yet?" Burt questioned authoritatively, all business.

"No," Blaine murmured shakily, "Can you call them for me?" After receiving a mumbled agreement from Burt, obviously from how late it was getting to be, Blaine fired back with his own question, "Where's Kurt? Is he still asleep?"

"Um…" Burt considered that, "yeah. Hang on, let me get the phone to him." A quiet sound of shuffling and heavy footsteps leaked through the phone in static waves, and Blaine climbed into the driver seat then placed Pavarotti in the cup holder beside his seat that he'd padded with napkins on the way over. The one thing he needed was to hear Kurt's voice, to help soothe him after nearly being raped back at that shop.

Pulling the car out into the road, Blaine's eyes blurred with tears at the sound of Kurt's sleepy voice in the background, and he thought of what might have happened had that psycho shot him. He probably never would have heard Kurt's sleepy voice again, or been able to laugh in the mornings with him over how his hair always seemed to stick up, or watched him cook breakfast so meticulously from the kitchen table. When Kurt murmured over the phone, fully alert this time, Blaine immediately listened to every sound and octave Kurt's voice hit when he spoke. He wanted to treasure it every time he heard it. "Blaine?" Kurt questioned, his voice riding on a panic attack, "Blaine, my dad just told me you went back to that place. Are you okay? Why didn't you wake me?"

"Kurt," Blaine soothed, "I'm fine, sweetheart. I'll be home in less than five minutes. I'm okay, I promise. I've got Pavarotti with me. Baby, how are you feeling? Are you sore?"

Picking at the knife replaced in his pocket, Blaine decided it'd be best to not stress Kurt out even more that he felt he needed a knife to go over there in the first place, so he yanked it out of his pocket and quickly shoved it under the floor mat under his seat. Kurt took a moment to reply, his voice unsteady and crackly, "You have Pavarotti? What did you have to give to get him back? Blaine, please don't tell me it was something awful!"

"No," Blaine immediately lied, "Baby, he wasn't even at the shop. Your dad's going to call the police and shut his system down so he doesn't put another canary in that situation. Kurt… Kurt, listen to me, okay? Everything's fine. Pavarotti's okay but he does need treatments done. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Kurt murmured without missing a beat, his high pitched voice quivering, "I just really need to see you right now for proof. Thank you so much for getting him back. I love you, Blaine."

"I love you, too," Blaine whispered, "Angel, I'm pulling onto our road so I'll see you in a minute." Clicking the phone off, Blaine stuffed it into his pocket and spun the wheel onto his road, where he passed by his former home and drove straight to his new one. The lights in his old home were each flipped off, so Blaine assumed they were still confirming paperwork in D.C., but the lights in his new one were on, and in the driveway stood two figures, Burt in his boxers and a ratty tee shirt and Kurt wrapped in a silk robe that Blaine _so_ couldn't wait to unwrap.

Kurt bounced on his toes when he spotted Blaine's car, and Blaine nearly punched down hard enough on the gas that he sped up to sixty miles an hour in his urging to get to Kurt. Pulling into the driveway, Blaine held his hand down for Pavarotti to hop into, and he swung the door open, not even setting a foot down before Kurt mauled him back into the car, looping his arms in a tight lasso around his neck. He panted something in French and nuzzled Blaine's face, his lips peppering Blaine in sweet kisses as he stroked his hair. "Blaine, I was so worried!" he switched to English, burying his face in Blaine's neck. "That man was horrible and I was so afraid he'd do something _redoutable _to you."

"Okay, Kurt," Burt attempted to peel Kurt off of Blaine, "Let him breathe. Let's all go inside before you make yourself sick standing out here in this snow in that flimsy, little robe." _That I'm really thankful you're wearing right now,_ Blaine privately added as he eyeballed the white, almost see-through material and the fact that Kurt wore only a pair of black spankies underneath.

Pavarotti twittered and fluffed his feathers up against the cold, and Blaine spread his cupped hands to reveal the bird, every cell in his body reveling in the way Kurt's eyes lit up. "Pavarotti!" Kurt cried out, his cheeks glowing pink as he reached to switch the bird into his hands, "I'm so _soulagé_ that you're okay!"

Burt frowned at the bird, still trying to nudge Kurt inside, "Kurt… If you're planning on keeping this bird, _you'll_ be the one caring for it, right? And it'll stay in your room? Do you have a cage for him?"

"Not right now," Kurt shrugged idly, accepting Blaine's caress as Blaine stepped out of his car and placed a hand at his hip. "I'm sure Blaine and I can run down to the pet shop in the morning and get him a cage and food. He'll be fine to be free in my room tonight. His wing is broken and his leg is hurt… He won't get far."

"Okay," Once they reached the front door, Burt pushed Kurt inside with Blaine right on his heels, then closed the door behind them, "Well, I'm going to bed. Kurt, since the vet is closed over Christmas what I want you to do is get into my toolbox—" Seconds after the word slipped out Burt recalled who exactly he was talking to, then wheeled around to Blaine, "Blaine, can you get into my toolbox and find the stiff wire inside of it. Cut off a strand about two centimeters shorter than what Pavarotti's wing is then wrap the ends in rubber and cotton for padding. You can use that to splint his wing until the holidays are over. Then use nail clippers to get that band off his leg and press a cotton ball covered with rubbing alcohol and use the gauze in my bathroom to tie it down. You might also want to check the cut on his head to see if it's deep. He's acting pretty normal so I don't think there's brain damage."

Pavarotti cocked his head, his feathers still fluffed to resiliently detract the cold. Kurt observed Blaine head off toward the garage, so he simultaneously skimmed over to his bedroom to build a nest for Pavarotti for the night. Closing his bedroom door behind him, Kurt carried Pavarotti in the cup of one hand and grasped his handrail with the other, floating down the stairs silently. At the burst of warmth in Kurt's room Pavarotti exploded his feathers out until he resembled a tiny pom pom, then he slicked them back down and nibbled at the band on his leg.

"This is your new home, Pavarotti," Kurt murmured to him, grasping one of the smaller pillows on the bed and yanking it down until it lay in the center of the bed. He fragilely set Pavarotti down on it, then lowered onto the bed beside him. "What do you think?"

Pavarotti twittered at him and dug at the pillow with his talons, and after shifting around his weight he fluffed his feathers again and lowered down onto the pillow, tucking his legs under him. He stuck his injured leg out to the side, leaning in the opposite direction of it and Kurt cooed to him, "Don't worry, Blaine will take care of you. Are you hungry? I'll pick up the most gourmet bird seed you've ever tasted in your life for you tomorrow."

Tweeting another reply, Pavarotti twisted his head almost completely around to eye Blaine walking down the stairs, his hands full of medical supplies. "I found everything but the cotton balls, but in the first aid kit there were a stack of heating pads. Have you checked his head yet?"

"I looked at it a little," Kurt placed either hand on Pavarotti's body to hold him still while Blaine worked on him, but Pavarotti seemed more interested in nipping at his chest to clean himself than anything Kurt and Blaine were doing. "I think it's just a scratch and I saw little feathers poking out of the skin. There are a few bloody spots on the skin but I don't think it's deep."

Blaine squeezed a few drops of rubbing alcohol onto a bit of tissue and he slipped his fingers under Pavarotti's beak in order to assure that Pavarotti wouldn't jerk and Blaine would get the alcohol in his eye. Cocking his head in just the right direction, Blaine patted the tissue on Pavarotti's head and Pavarotti's mouth opened wide, a screeching sound escaping him as he flapped his good wing wildly. "Pavarotti!" Kurt cried out, tightening his grip on the panicking bird, "It's okay, we don't want to hurt you. Blaine's helping you._ S'apaiser_, _s'il vous plaît_."

Glancing up at Kurt and setting the soiled tissue inside, Blaine lifted the splint and brushed his fingers over the inside of Pavarotti's wing. The wing lightly fluttered. "Good, Pavarotti," Blaine soothed, carefully and hesitantly slipping the splint under the wing and plastering it in place with a few quick adjustments. The splint forced the wing to hold itself up at a forty degree angle, the fold in it straightened out to perfect flatness.

While the bird fluttered his wing and curiously tested the new weight of it, Blaine lifted the nail clippers in his fingers and reached for the bloodied foot. In a swift move—not to give Pavarotti any reaction time—Blaine sliced through the band and it popped open. Pavarotti glanced down at his foot at the released pressure. The band still stuck into the place where it had dug into his skin, so Blaine placed a finger at the corner of it and started pushing up on it to wiggle it out without ripping it. The plastic piece finally slipped out of the wound and Kurt gasped in relief, reaching down and picking it up before Pavarotti could spot it and mistake it for a chew toy.

Pavarotti chirped appreciatively, gratefully holding still for Blaine as he dabbed the remainder of the alcohol onto a warming pad and pressed it to the wound. The bird wriggled but didn't make a noise, holding patiently still as Blaine wrapped the gauze around it.

Once the bird was completely bandaged and prepared for the long, tedious healing process, Kurt lunged at Blaine and tossed his arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the underneath of his jaw. "_Merci,_ Blaine! Pavarotti's so much better than he was before! I'm so glad you knew how to fix him. He's the best Christmas present I've ever gotten."

Twittering happily, Pavarotti fluffed out of his feathers and lowered to his pillow, his eyes closing as sleep and weariness from his surgeries caught up to him. Blaine chuckled lowly and set Pavarotti's medical supplies on the night stand, "I'm gonna go take a shower, baby. Go back to sleep. I'll head out in the morning to get Pavarotti's things. You should sleep in tomorrow. You're always the first one awake. Tomorrow _I'm_ going to take care of all the errands."

Kurt sighed dramatically and flopped back on the pillows, "Oh, I've never been so grateful to hear anything in my life. You're right, if we did get married you _would _spoil me." Positioning his body to be more supple as Blaine clambered on top of him and tucked a hair behind his ear, Kurt added swiftly, "Not that I mind. I could get used to this spoiling idea."

"Mm…" Blaine smirked and nuzzled his lips into Kurt's, zoning out Pavarotti's insistent chirping of gratitude, "If you were anyone else I'd beat you for a comment like that. You deserve this, though. Just stay home and enjoy your bird as much as he's enjoying sleeping on a pillow for a change. Is there anything else you want me to get while I'm out?"

Whimpering, Kurt arched his body into Blaine's as Blaine lapped his tongue from between Kurt's collar bones to his Adam's apple, where he nipped and sucked playfully, "_Oh…_ Blaine, I can't think when you do that."

"That's the point," Blaine nuzzled the underneath of Kurt's jaw, "I just want to come home to you as soon as possible. If you start listing off things for me to get, there will be less time for me to pamper you."

Giggling helplessly, Kurt wriggled out from under Blaine and pressed his toes into Blaine's stomach to force distance between them. "If that's the case, I'll send you out for something simple so I can get to my spoiling faster. I haven't yet gotten around to choosing a dessert for Christmas dinner. My dad and I can't agree on one because I wanted fat-free cobbler while he wants high-carbs apple pie, when he _knows_ I can't eat anything fatty before my photo shoot. So I'm giving _you_ full reign of dessert choice."

Blaine rolled his eyes sardonically and leaned down for a swift kiss, "I'm honored. Don't stay up for me. You need your sleep tonight. I've been keeping you up way too late these past few nights."

Kurt managed a concerned expression and slipped his fingers through Blaine's, "But if I wake up when you get into bed, will you snuggle with me until I go back to sleep?"

Challenging the seductive vixen with his cocked brows, Blaine pressed a kiss to the knuckles of Kurt's fingers, "As long as it _stays_ at snuggling. Damned knows how many times our snuggling has turned into the frantic, dry humping bunny stage."

Smirking up at Blaine, Kurt giggled, "You must certainly think I'm irresistible, then."

Blaine rolled his eyes once more, helping Kurt out of his robe then drawing the blankets over him. Rather than reply to that—mainly because no matter what he said both of them would believe it to be true—Blaine leaned down to kiss Kurt's forehead and rose from the bed. He flipped off the lights before stepping into the brightly lit bathroom and glimpsed briefly over his shoulder at a snoozing Pavarotti and Kurt wiggling deeper into the blankets, his eyes still following Blaine.

Forming a smile onto his lips for Kurt, who touched his lips to signal a telepathic kiss that he must have been mentally sending Blaine, Blaine suddenly had the demanding craving to jump back onto the bed and commence one of those dry humping bunny embraces that Blaine found so hot. Instead, he slipped into the bathroom and wondered for the first time how many times Kurt had quietly watched him from across a room without him knowing it.

The thought curved a deeper smile into his lips as he stripped from his clothing and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water and sudsy soap cleanse him of his earlier run-in with the drug dealer. Sure, he felt unclean for touching a bird's blood and smearing it on his fingers, but nothing bothered him more than the thought that his skin would never be clean enough for Kurt.

He would always be used.

* * *

Kurt stretched his muscles out and yawned quietly, his eyes fluttering open to the fresh scent of pine and dusted off ornaments that had been in storage for about a year at this point. What sounded like a football game stadium cheering below and his father shouting informed Kurt of yet another football game playing that his father seriously got way too into, but he smiled at the thought of his father's love of the sport, anyway. Rolling onto his side to face Pavarotti but gazing out of his window first in awe of the fluffy blurs of snow cascading to the ground casually and the sun beaming through each and every one of them, Kurt joyfully giggled to himself and murmured to Pavarotti, "This Christmas is going to be perfect, Pavarotti. Don't you think?"

Pavarotti twittered in reply, but the sound was slightly muffled and not nearby. Alertly lifting himself up, Kurt narrowed his eyes on the silky white fabric neatly laid across his bed with a piece of folded paper on top of it. He folded his body over itself and climbed to the end of the bed, lifting up the note first. On the outside the neat word, _Angel_, was printed in Blaine's half-print, half-cursive handwriting, so he unfolded it and read the inside of the note.

_Sweet Christmas Angel,_

_You probably just woke up and you're wondering a lot of things, but just to clear up matters I got back from the stores a while ago and bought you that dress on our bed to wear for Christmas. Pavarotti seems to like his new cage, and I'm not sure if he's eaten it all yet but I already fed him this morning. Come downstairs soon. I love you._

—_B_

Kurt smiled demurely and laid the note aside in favor of examining his new Christmas dress. Lifting up the silky bodice in his fingers, Kurt noted that it was another drop-sleeve similar to his homecoming dress, but rather than this being a wrap dress it was much more flowing and delicate. The simple skirt flirted with the legs all the way down to the ankles, where it cut off, and the back of the bodice also flared open to expose the majority of the back until the dress reached the hips. Considering the boldness of the dress, Kurt held it up to his chest to test out the white coloring against his skin when a quiet chirping emerged from across the room.

Distracted from his beautiful dress, he laid it back across the bed and slipped off of the mattress. He padded toward a Burberry red, blue and cream cage covering and tugged it off to reveal a golden, wire-barred canary cage full of an artificial branch, a bell dangling from the top, a padded pillow at the bottom that was much more canary sized and two tin bowls attached to the side where one was half full of water and the other only with a few scattered seeds remaining in it. Pavarotti perched on the higher part of the branch, twittering excitedly at the sight of Kurt.

"Good morning to you, too," Kurt cooed and unlatched the door, reaching his hand inside for Pavarotti to hop into. "You rested well, didn't you? Blaine didn't stop anywhere less than spoiling, did he, Pavarotti?"

Pavarotti trilled and bounced on his good foot, swaying side to side as he sang brightly. Kurt giggled and placed Pavarotti back inside his cage, and the bird instantly climbed sideways up his branch to the bell. He stretched his neck up and captured the clapper in his beak and tugged at it. "You want to go downstairs and see what all the fuss is about? Let me get a quick shower and do my hair then I'll take you down there."

Agreeing kindly, Pavarotti knocked his beak into the bell and chirped when the clapper hit the inside of the bell, which resounded a high, melodic sound. Kurt cooed to his bird again, sticking a finger through the bars and stroking Pavarotti's head while avoiding his still healing wound. Pavarotti twittered as Kurt sifted off toward the bathroom, humming along with Pavarotti's constant chirping, both of them completely unaware of what Blaine had up his sleeve for later that night.

* * *

The biting feeling of paranoia nipping at Blaine's heels was really starting to bug the shit out of him. After all, he'd been up since three in the morning perfecting the entire house for his first Christmas with Kurt. Other than bring in Santa and his reindeer in the flesh to add more of a magical appeal to the whole place, there was little to nothing more he could do. At least Pavarotti had appreciated his renovations. The moment Blaine set him in his cage he hopped up on the branch and started clanging his bell around so noisily that Blaine had to cover him with his cage cover to muffle the noise. Luckily Kurt slept through just about everything and didn't awaken to Pavarotti's fascinating new noise maker, like poppers and streamers on New Year's Eve. The first few times were cute, but after that Blaine had to resist ripping apart the damned toys.

Glimpsing toward the tree he had left at about five in the morning to retrieve then spend the next hour decorating and lighting it, Blaine noticed with a hint of satisfaction how very _Kurt_ style it looked. The fake tree was only about four feet tall and spray painted white with glitter on the needles, and light blue lights wrapped around the entire tree. Marble colored white and blue, and golden ornaments rested from each limb, while light blue and dark blue candy canes filled in the blank spaces.

Under the tree rested at least seven or eight presents, while Blaine held one of them captive under the cushion on the couch, where Blaine planned on giving it to Kurt later that night. From what Burt claimed and what Blaine had seen of Kurt, Kurt had the tendency to become like jelly in Blaine's arm when Blaine romanced and seduced him well enough. So Blaine planned on doing just that. Shivering at just the thought of hearing Kurt's lovely giggles in his ear and feeling those silky lips drift over his skin as Kurt climbed on top of him, needy for more than just the talking, Blaine jerked his head up when Burt shouted at the TV again, nearly chucking his empty soda can at the poor, blamed box.

"_No!_" he screamed in rage, shaking his fist, "That was a good pass, Brians! You should have gotten that, you lousy quarterback!"

"Dad," laughed a prettier, higher pitched voice, "They can't hear you, but I'd give you a standing ovation for your enthusiasm." Kurt, who was carrying Pavarotti's cage as Pavarotti eagerly nipped at the bars in his cage hoping for freedom, leaned over the back of his dad's chair and wrapped his arms around Burt's neck, pressing a kiss to the top of his balding head. "Merry Christmas, Dad. Look who wanted to celebrate with us."

Kurt set Pavarotti's cage down on the table beside Burt's reclining chair, and Burt briefly eyed the bird before tearing his gaze back to the screen. He released another shout of annoyance, which caused Pavarotti to chirp noisily, fluffing up his feathers at whatever had caused the aggravation. Kurt giggled at the sight of the two screaming, football fans in the room before his entire body was whipped around and tugged into a pair of strong arms.

Bursting into abrupt giggles, Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck, "I got your note. So I'm your sweet Christmas angel now? Blaine, I really love Pavarotti's new cage… and so does he." He briefly glanced over his shoulder to where Pavarotti was screaming alongside his father and ringing his bell every time his father started to jump up. He turned his blue eyed gaze back to a helplessly smiling Blaine, "And I love the dress, too. Normally I'm not so bold to ever wear these, but I like this one. It's a pretty color."

He twirled around and privately enjoyed the feeling of the loose skirt whipping around and through his legs as he moved. When he paused, he returned his arms to Blaine's neck and pressed his body against Blaine's. Noticing something sparkling beyond Blaine's shoulder, Kurt rose up on his toes and dropped his jaw at the beautiful tree in the corner, each of the lights individually flickering in a pattern. "Oh, my gosh! Blaine, did you do all this? This place is perfect! When I asked you to spoil me I wasn't being serious. Mm… And what on earth smells so good?"

Glancing off toward the glowing kitchen, Kurt looked over his shoulder at the sound of his father's gruff voice, "Kurt, that kid is insane! He woke up at three this morning and has everything already in the oven for Christmas dinner. I got up at about six and he had a game on for me to watch and a mug of coffee on my table. Why didn't you meet someone like him before I came back to America alone? I would have brought him with me from France! Kurt, if you want to marry this boy, I give you my full approval and more."

Wryly grinning at Burt, Kurt started tugging Blaine toward the kitchen, "Dad, it sounds more like _you_ want to marry him. I think your game just hit an interesting part. Pavarotti's getting excited again." Actually, Kurt had no idea what part of the game it was at or even if they were taking a commercial break. Still pumped up from earlier, Pavarotti rang his bell noisily even though his yelling friend wasn't at the task anymore.

Burt adjusted himself in his seat and leaned forward, prepared for more shouting, which gave Kurt a chance to escape with Blaine. Slipping his fingers between Blaine's, Kurt yanked him into the kitchen and locked the door behind them. Within seconds he pushed Blaine up against the fridge and ignored the mouthwatering scents of baking bread rolls in favor of accusingly cocking a brow at Blaine, who grasped Kurt's elbows in his palms. Kurt instantly damned Blaine for demanding on exploring each and every one of Kurt's sweet spots, which included Kurt's elbows. He smoothed his thumbs over them and swiveled circles on the skin of them with his fingers, and for a second Kurt almost forgot that he had something to accuse Blaine of.

Kurt jabbed a finger into Blaine's chest, which shook Blaine's hand off his elbow. Without missing a beat Blaine casually slid his hand down Kurt's side to his hip where he kneaded on one of the dimples right above Kurt's arse. Kurt lost his train of thought again, his knees going weak under him, so he swatted Blaine's hand away. "No," Kurt snapped, glaring him down, "I know something is going on. You might be kind and loving, but this is stretching things."

Despite Blaine's will to remain innocent a devious sparkle dashed his golden eyes, which clued in Kurt that there was _definitely_ something going on. "Can't I do something for my beautiful boyfriend on Christmas? I didn't think there was a rule against that. Is there, Kurt?" Blaine's fingers brushed the back of Kurt's knee, and Kurt went limp against Blaine's body.

Blaine reached into his back pocket subtly and murmured to Kurt as he wound an arm around his weak body, "You know, I forgot to hang something up this morning. Silly me. Looks like I'm going to have to carry it around with me all day." Drawing out a piece of mistletoe with two plump, red berries attached to it, Blaine idly ran his thumb over the round berries, "People say that these berries are poisonous. What a shame, because they look so damned _delicious._" Blaine bent over Kurt's ear and nuzzled the rim of it, whispering softly into the shell, "You agree, don't you?"

Kurt jerked against Blaine as he eyed the berries Blaine continuously rubbed his thumb over, Blaine's leg pressing in between Kurt's and stretching his dress. "People also say that mistletoe has a legend behind it where if two people are caught with it, they have to kiss."

Attempting to peel himself away from Blaine's addictive scent of pine, mint and a hundred percent, full blooded male, Kurt helplessly whispered, "I thought you weren't superstitious."

Blaine brushed his thumb over Kurt's cheek, which sent a _zing_ of pleasure rolling straight towards the middle of his thighs, "I wasn't until I saw you wearing this little dress. But now I'm totally into superstitions."

"Please," Kurt mindlessly gasped, unsure whether he was asking Blaine to finish him off or to cut it out with the teasing games. "You did all of these things for me. This was the most romantic gesture anyone's ever made to me, Blaine—not that anyone else ever _has._ I mean, I'm just saying that you've done a lot _before _and I—"

Blaine cut Kurt off mid-sentence with a lip-to-lip kiss, his tongue toward the back of his throat. He wanted to make Kurt beg for it, then cut him off before he got to his finishing point and make him squirm for the rest of the night to the point that by the time Blaine gave him everything he wanted the pleasure between them could be explosive. Backing Kurt into the kitchen table, Blaine privately enjoyed how willingly he flagrantly laid himself across it, his dress fanning out across the entire table.

Kneeling down between Kurt's thighs, Blaine flipped his skirt up and out of the way and nipped down on the top of his spankies, peeling them back. Kurt whimpered and drew his knees up, laying his legs across Blaine's shoulders to ease them from laying so limply. He scooted the spankies down to Kurt's knees and returned to Kurt's inner thighs, choosing to hold him off by turning his face into the top of the inner of Kurt's thigh, lapping his tongue across the raw skin. Kurt moaned and his feet dug into Blaine's back, but luckily they were covered in Kurt's footie socks rather than his stiletto heels. Blaine nuzzled behind Kurt's stiffening cock to where his pale pink sac rested, and he swallowed one of them into his mouth. Wrapping his entire tongue around it, he suckled gently and drank in the familiar taste of soap and salt. His tongue rubbed a gentle pattern around the back of the sac, and with every time he took a breath he breathed in the simple scent of Kurt, a mixture of moisturizers, hair spray and perfume. He loved every second of it.

Releasing Kurt's sac, Blaine kissed a trail along the bottom of Kurt's seven inch length before reaching the tip. He tugged the head into his mouth and ran his tongue along the pre-cum dribbling tip, and he heard Kurt cry out briefly. Sensing how close Kurt was, Blaine popped his lips off of him and nuzzled his cheek against the base, the tip bobbing against his chin. More pre-cum trickled out onto his jaw and chin, and he avoided licking it off and tasting the delicious flavor of it in fear of wanting more and accidentally making Kurt come. Humming against the now perfectly hardened muscle to make Kurt feel the vibrations all the way up into his stomach, Blaine figured he might as well not torture Kurt and give him some satisfaction, so in a hasty move he returned to Kurt's tip.

Nights of practicing on his fingers while Kurt slept on his chest trained him to be able to take more than he naturally could, so he eased his lips around the head and closed them tight. Brushing his fingers over the line of Kurt's swollen, round arse, Blaine eased himself down onto the cock and pushed his way deeper, despite his gag reflex when Kurt's cock brushed too deep. Kurt spasmed under him, his feet pushing on his back desperately.

Licking his moisture coated tongue all along the bottom of Kurt's cock, Blaine closed his eyes when it finally brushed the back of his throat, and Kurt simultaneously jerked his hips up and wedged them up against Blaine's face. Holding down his moans, Kurt shuddered and Blaine could see that he was starting to break and shatter along the edges, so he ripped his mouth off and pressed one kiss to Kurt's tightened entrance, then lifted his head up.

Kurt almost screamed, his head thrashing back and his fingers digging into the table. Before he could throw a fit, Blaine lunged to cover his mouth and wanted to tell him that he knew how he felt, that his cock was throbbing just as badly to slam into Kurt's warm, tight asshole over and over and ram his prostate until Kurt blacked out.

But all he was concerned about at that moment was keeping Burt from getting curious about the moaning and crying coming from the kitchen and the fact that he probably needed a new kitchen table at this point. Blaine made a mental note about Burt's next birthday present, and although Burt would be clueless about why he was getting a kitchen table for his birthday… Blaine would know.

And that was good enough for him.

But what shocked Blaine about this whole situation was that he kind of actually wanted to keep the table, just as a reminder of how Kurt and he could find a way to have sex on just about every surface there was.

Waiting until Kurt calmed himself enough to start breathing again, Blaine reluctantly lifted his hand and watched tears roll down Kurt's cheeks. "You promised you would never do that," he whispered, "That hurt, Blaine."

Shocked at Kurt's reaction, Blaine instantly felt a wave of guilt wash through his blood. He'd been cockblocked so many times that he easily just shrugged it off, pulled up his pants and moved on to his next business—sure, with Kurt the challenge to move on from being cockblocked was a little harder, but he still managed to get through it. But Kurt had never been through anything like this before. Not wanting to give away his surprise but not wanting Kurt to think he was some douche bag who teased someone so fresh out of his innocence, Blaine smoothed his fingers through Kurt's hair and whispered, "I'm sorry, Kurt. I just… didn't want you to cry out too loudly and get caught by your dad. I promise I'll take care of you later. Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Feebly Kurt nodded his head, his hand resting on the top of his abdomen and he buried his face in Blaine's chest, "Promise me you'll finish with me later? I really… like how you make me feel in bed, Blaine. Please, finish me with me later. After my dad goes to sleep and… once we're in our own bed."

"Angel, you know I can't refuse you," Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's lips and helped yank his spankies back up his leg, adjusting his skirt gently. Relieved that Kurt had been so understanding to Blaine's half-true, half-lied reasoning that in the big scheme of things he truly didn't want Burt catching them in the act even though he was aware of it happening, Blaine had more of a reason than even that.

"Hey, Blaine? Kurt?" a knock on the door interrupted them, which only helped to prove Blaine's lied reason, and Kurt peeled himself off the table. "The game's over now so I was thinking we could get a head start on presents then get to dinner early. It's a big meal so we might not want to eat breakfast or lunch today if we want to have appetites for dessert."

Kurt bounced over to the door as cheerfully as he could, a waddle still about his hips, and he checked over his shoulder to assure that Blaine was decent before swinging the door open. "_Ça va,_ Dad."

Burt peeked further in and arched his brows skeptically, "You two okay in here? I know I had the TV kind of loud and with Pavarotti and that bell of his it was hard to hear, but I didn't hear a lot of talking back here. You two have some secret recipe that can't be discussed that you had to close and lock the door for?"

Blaine nearly choked at the words _secret recipe_ and Kurt's cheeks flamed. Quickly covering for the both of them, Kurt waddled past his father, "Did you say something about opening presents? Okay, Dad, you open mine first."

Kurt pranced toward the tree and dug out a two inch thick rectangle wrapped in metallic blue and green wrapping paper with an emerald green bow on top. Waiting until Burt lumbered back to his chair and reclined himself, and Blaine seated himself on their couch, amusing himself with unlatching the door to Pavarotti's cage and cupping the bird in his palms, Kurt jumped over to Burt and handed him the box. He safely lowered himself onto Blaine's knee and cooed to his tweeting bird, who eyed Burt and his box suspiciously, cocking his head this way and that.

Burt grunted as he unwrapped the present and pulled out a box from Buckle, which contained a pair of dark wash jeans with fades on the front and a black button up with a black, faux leather belt woven on top of the outfit with a black string tied all the way around it in loops and a black bowtie to top it all off. As his father ogled everything cynically Kurt put in, "You never know what kind of situation that outfit might be needed for. It's both casual and classy, and it tells everyone that you know how to shop in a store. I couldn't buy you the matching shoes because I didn't know what size you are, but if I catch you wearing sneakers with that outfit I'm never giving you fashion advice again. Sneakers with that outfit would be insulting _every_ party involved. And you had better be glad I had Blaine with me, because I almost bought you a salmon jacket instead of that. I think that would have gone much more adorably with one of my brooches I could lend you, but _someone_ said that a man like you just didn't wear pink for _any _occasion."

Kurt rolled his eyes and jumped off Blaine's lap when Blaine got to his feet to excavate Burt's present from him and he shuffled over to Burt, handing it over casually with Pavarotti peeking over the fingers of his other hand, "Don't be concerned about getting a fashion speech about this one." Blaine snorted, heading back over to the couch and pulling Kurt back down onto his lap. He rubbed soothing circles on Kurt's bare spine, as Kurt cooed and flaunted over his spoiled, cheeping bird.

Burt ripped the wrapping paper off his next and last present, pulling it away to reveal a car model set. Blaine shrugged a shoulder, "You already have practically every tool on the planet because of your car shop, so I thought you might like working on miniature cars."

Rising up from his seat with his presents in hand, Burt meandered over to Kurt and wrapped a single arm around him, then the same for Blaine, "Thanks, you two. These are great. I might start working on this now and give you two some, uh… privacy. Give me a holler when you want to sit down for dinner."

Burt pressed a kiss to Kurt's forehead, then wandered out of the room and clicked his door shut behind him. Kurt immediately bounced to his feet and scurried to the tree, but he froze when Blaine called out, "Hey, baby, why don't you grab that little box in the front?"

Kurt instantly did as he was told, then weighed the palm sized box in his hand and shot Blaine a startled expression. It wasn't one of horror or excitement, but somewhere in between. "It isn't an engagement ring, is it?"

"No," Blaine laughed, holding Pavarotti up higher to give him a better, front seat view, "It's for Pavarotti. I couldn't leave him out of the Christmas gifts." Seconds before he took the box from Kurt, Blaine noted the expression that lasted for mere milliseconds that he probably would have missed had he not been studying Kurt so thoroughly. It almost looked a little like… disappointment. As though a glass film had formed over his eyes for about three seconds then he blinked it away, replacing it with a bright smile at Pavarotti.

"Look, Pavarotti, you can open your Christmas present!" Kurt's voice barely quivered and Blaine wondered why he suddenly appeared so upset. Was Blaine supposed to say something else when he teased about an engagement ring? It had been a joke… right? Kurt wasn't really convinced that Blaine was asking him to marry him, was he?

But what if he was?

The thought sent chills down Blaine's spine, and he lifted his eyes to Kurt's joyful face to anyone who had known him for about ten minutes. For someone who spent every breathing second glued to Kurt's hip, though, only Blaine could see the unusual shininess to Kurt's eyes. Kurt covered swiftly, though, and he slid the box from Blaine's numbed fingers and held it out to Pavarotti.

Pavarotti, unaware of the tension, bit down on the tied on bow and tugged, unraveling the pretty ribbon. He nipped at the wrapping on the box and tore at it, sending little pieces of paper flying to the floor. The wrapping suddenly fell away and exposed a box on the inside, so Kurt took it upon himself to thumb that open and a miniature handkerchief material dyed a light blue color fell into Kurt's palm, with a tinier bell than the one in Pavarotti's cage attached to it.

Realizing it was a collar for Pavarotti, Kurt laughed and covered his mouth with his hand, "Oh, Blaine, this is adorable! Pavarotti, look! Want me to put it on for you? Where on earth did you find one of these, Blaine?"

Still focused on the fact that Kurt had looked so devastated after learning what the present truly was, Blaine hardly noticed that he'd been asked a question and soon Kurt forgot about the half rhetorical question, his fingers busy tying on the miniature handkerchief around Pavarotti's neck. Pavarotti stretched his good foot up to scratch at the material, then noticed the bell at the bottom and ducked his head down in a mission to capture it.

Kurt set Pavarotti back in his cage to amuse himself with his bell for a while, and that time he let Blaine stand to retrieve a present, one of his own for Kurt. He returned to Kurt with it and set it down in Kurt's lap, pressing a kiss to his lips as he lowered down beside him. Pavarotti's jingling was the only sound either of them heard. Kurt pulled off the bow first then meticulously unwrapped the present, careful not to tear even the smallest corner. Blaine clandestinely cherished Kurt's mild perfectionism, unlike Pavarotti whose paper confetti mess was still waiting to be vacuumed up.

He yanked the lid off the box and set it aside, pulling out a gray turtle neck sweater that draped over the thighs but didn't quite touch the knees, followed by a pair of washed out, white skinnies with tears on the thighs in a vertical line and a pair of gray Ugg boots with a gray beret underneath all of those things. "Blaine!" Kurt hugged him excitedly, "I love this outfit! I don't own enough gray. Do you really think it will compliment my skin?"

Blaine smirked and shrugged, digging his fingers into his palms at the dread he felt for his next present to Kurt. "You look fantastic in anything, angel. _Including_ gray."

Pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek, Kurt climbed off the couch and pulled out something from behind the tree, struggling to lift the box that was nearly as tall as Kurt's hip. "Shit, baby," Blaine rose up off the couch and rushed to Kurt's side before the box could crush him, "What the hell is in this thing? It's not a new closet worth of clothes, is it?"

"No," Kurt smiled, plopping onto the floor beside Blaine who lowered the box horizontally to the floor and began peeling off the wrapping paper. He tore off the top half of the paper then slid the rest down, his mouth falling open at the label of a brand new guitar on the box. Flipping the box over, he was shocked, though, to find the end of it already opened and figured that a used guitar was all that Burt and Kurt could afford to buy him.

Still, the gesture was extremely appreciated, "No way! Kurt, this is amazing! It's been so long since I've had my own guitar. Thank you so much, baby. You really are an angel, aren't you?"

Kurt grinned and wiggled at the flattery, leaning into Blaine when Blaine gestured for a kiss to Kurt's cheek. "I had to open the box early because I wanted this one company outside of town to engrave the lyrics of Cough Syrup all over the guitar. I hope it doesn't bother the sound on the guitar."

Blaine hesitantly pulled the guitar out of the box and discovered that Kurt was, in fact, right, that on every open or vacant space on the guitar a lyric rested to his favorite song. Shaking his head in disbelief as he ran his fingers over the engravings, he whispered breathlessly, "I'm never getting rid of this guitar. Kurt, you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Flushing brightly, Kurt fleetingly turned his face away and wriggled his hips, then brought his blue eyes back up to Blaine's face, "Can you teach me to play something? Please?"

"Um…" Blaine tested the tuning on the guitar, twisting the knobs until the guitar strings loosened just enough without being too wobbly, "Sure, baby. Come here." While Kurt scooted himself into Blaine's lap, Blaine rested the weight of the guitar on his shoulder and between Kurt's legs, then he grasped Kurt's hand and wrapped his fingers around the fretboard, hooking one of his fingers around the middle string. He guided Kurt's other hand to lay lightly on the base of the guitar, his thumb brushing the top string. "Good…" Blaine commented idly, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, "Now just leave that hand there, and brush your thumb across these strings here."

Kurt concentrated on nailing the chord perfectly, dragging his finger across the few strings Blaine had pointed out. His nail caught on the last one, though, and he pushed the guitar back into Blaine's chest as he pulled himself out of his lap, "I feel like this causes more finger blisters than my moisturizers can overpower. I'll gladly let you have your guitar but models can't have calloused fingers. I have to go get my dad and let him know we can start dinner but thank you for the presents. You know my fashion style very well."

Leaning over with another kiss to Blaine's cheek, Kurt hopped to his feet and murmured to Pavarotti as he passed him by, causing Pavarotti to twitter and flap. Unable to believe that he'd choked that terribly in front of Kurt, Blaine lowered his guitar to the ground and glimpsed under the tree at the one rectangular box remaining, and he suddenly stopped breathing.

_How long has Kurt been thinking about marrying me?_

Blaine wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that, or even if he wanted to know how long he'd secretly been denying thinking about that, too.

* * *

Kurt strolled casually into the dining room with Pavarotti's cage dangling from his fingertips, so Blaine instantly threw himself out of his chair and intercepted the cage from Kurt. Gratefully Kurt handed it over to Blaine and lowered into his chair beside Blaine's, waiting until Blaine returned from setting Pavarotti down to idly fill one corner of his plate with a warm bread roll. Blaine inched his chair closer to Kurt's when he finally brought himself to rest in it, and Kurt glimpsed down into his lap at the brushing of something warm against his leg. Blaine's hand casually lay on the curve of his knee, his thumb rubbing circles on the skin just above his knee, and Kurt was startled at himself to note the heat blast of his blood draining to the center of his body.

"So, Kurt," Burt, who piled on two slices of ham on to his plate, flicked his eyes between Kurt and Blaine, "Last night I got a call from a girl by the name of Tina asking about your trip to New York. She said you'd invited her and just wanted to confirm that you wanted her to meet you at the airport. Should I have said yes?"

"Mm," Kurt scooped a bit of salad onto his plate to flavor his meal, nearly shivering at the feeling of Blaine's hand rubbing up and down his thigh more comfortingly than seductively, but, oh, was it working best the latter way. The flimsy skirt of his dress suddenly resembled more of a buffalo hide than a thin piece of silk, but as though he'd been reading Kurt's mind Blaine abruptly flipped the skirt up and slipped a finger underneath. He swirled it on Kurt's knee a few times, then traced it up to the inner of his thigh, which was pressed up against his other leg in a crossed position. Kurt swiftly uncrossed them. "Yes. The girls I invited are Rachel, Tina and Mercedes, but anyone else is just a scammer who wants an easy way into the modeling world. And Monsieur Stanley is sending over one of his drivers to pick Blaine and I up and drive us to the airport so you don't have to worry about driving us down there. Thank you for being so supportive about this, Dad. I know the timing is inconvenient and everything—"

"No," Burt shook his head, "This is a future career of yours. I can understand that, Kurt. I just wish you had a different manager. That Dakota Stanley is an asshole. You were only sixteen when he set you up with those thirty year old Calvin Klein models. You had every right to be intimidated by half naked, stripper men climbing all over you."

Kurt licked his lips uncomfortably and sank into his seat, stabbing his salad, "I'm lucky to have gotten back in with Monsieur Stanley. Usually models who are fired once never get back in. He said that my looks were so extraordinary, though, that he needed me for his fashion line."

Burt blew out heavily and shoved a piece of ham into his mouth, "I don't see why you can't model for that Goody place you shop at, though. They're much more family-friendly. There are no half naked men or women and almost all of your baby doll clothes come from there. Blaine bought that dress from there, in fact. See, that dress covers everything. All of your Vogue skirts and shirts are skimpy and far too revealing."

Arching his brows, Kurt pinched the sleeve of his dress, "You mean _Gucci?_ Dad, you know I can't model for anything else besides Vogue. The nearest Chanel to Paris is at least two towns away, and the rest—Gucci, Prada, Juicy Couture—are even farther. Vogue is nearby and it can be decent."

"Yeah, in what? The children's department?" Burt snapped, then shook his head bitterly, "Kurt, I'm just saying, a place like that pisses me off. No matter how rich and arrogant a person is, they should never stick a sixteen year old boy in with thirty year old stripper men then _fire_ the kid for being uncomfortable with the situation."

Kurt licked his lips and sank deeper until half of his arse hung off the chair, "Monsieur Stanley has been kind to me. He lets me wear the faux version of whatever new animal prints there are. Few modeling places would let me wear my own versions of the clothing. And… Dad, now that I'm no longer a minor and he thinks that I should be able to handle it now… Monsieur Stanley emailed me about… trying again with the Calvin Klein models."

Beside him Blaine choked dramatically on the glass of Coke he'd had at his lips, and he cupped his hand around his throat as he shot Kurt an _are-you-insane_ glare. Kurt squirmed at his father's cocked brow, a gaze that Kurt knew meant that Burt was privately disappointed in him, "I… um… Dad, I do think I can handle it now! I mean, it _is_ a Christmas shoot we're doing and _that_ in itself is very family-friendly. They can't have a bunch of strippers featured in a Christmas shoot. The models will be covered. Dad, if I refuse to model with those men again, I'm going to get fired permanently this time. Once I have enough going for me with modeling, I can start to branch off on my own and decide who I do and don't want to model with, but for now I really need to stay subtle about how choosy I am."

Burt jabbed at a beet on his plate and stuck it between his teeth, silently mulling over everything. At last, he raised his fork and pointed it at Blaine, "Why don't you suggest doing the shoot with Blaine? Not that my opinion really has any effect on anything, but _I_ would personally feel more comfortable with that. He's not as tall as most of the Calvin Klein men, but he's good looking, strong, and his looks are _natural._ Other than him being natural and a little shorter, he'd fit right in with those body building buffoons. No offense, Blaine. Those men _are_ bigger than you, but you've got tone going on."

Kurt shifted around in his seat, lifting his lashes up at Blaine's chiseled face. His father had a point, that Blaine was in fact one of the most gorgeous men Kurt had ever seen. Very defined features and a broad body with slender hips and muscular thighs. Despite his height and slouched posture that hardly resembled a model's, Blaine could easily fit in with the gorgeous, flawless, and airbrushed Calvin Klein men. "That might work, Dad," Kurt agreed quietly, "but I don't know if Monsieur Stanley would accept the idea. Blaine might be _too_ natural. Besides, the Calvin Klein models have been trained for months in posture, eating habits, and how to act in front of a camera at all times. Blaine has the requirements of being a Calvin Klein model, but Monsieur Stanley would never do a photo shoot with someone as brand new as Blaine. He requires expertise."

Burt rolled his eyes, "Oh, I'll show him expertise and shove it straight up his ass. I've never disliked a man the way I do him. Just… ask about Blaine doing the shoot with you. _I _would feel more comfortable with it. _You _would feel more comfortable with it. And I'm sure Blaine would, too. Besides, a photo with him would be much more believable and real because you two are so comfortable with each other and haven't just met at the first day of shooting some sleazy magazine picture where you're all over each other five minutes after learning each other's names."

"I'll see what I can do," Kurt glanced at Blaine, who mindlessly picked at a piece of cauliflower, "You wouldn't mind doing a shoot with me, would you, Blaine? You wouldn't have to wear anything silly. The clothing will probably be tight and not at all like what you usually wear, but I think you could manage."

"Yeah," Blaine muttered, grateful for Burt's idea of doing anything to keep Kurt from those Calvin Klein men. Even though Blaine wasn't at all prepared to do any modeling in a skin tight Santa suit while Kurt, dressed in some stupid, slutty elf outfit, threw himself across Blaine's lap and stared at the camera like some kind of ridiculous floozy. He grimaced at the dread filling a gap in his stomach, his appetite suddenly gone and replaced with the need to throw up.

Kurt continued casually, his own hand squeezing Blaine's knee, "Just a few words of advice when you meet Monsieur Stanley… Don't look him in the eye but don't completely look away, either. He's offended both by direct contact and no contact at all, either. Let him do the talking and answer only with _yes_ or _no_ only if you're sure you were asked a question. You probably won't be talking to him long but in case you do, don't overdo or underdo things. Show interest in what he says but don't gush. And even though he refers to himself often by his first name, always address him Monsieur Stanley. He'll get extremely offended if you call him _mister._ He believes the American ways are tacky and immature. Oh, and, never say you don't like one of his designs. He's the only designer and manager I know of who you'll have to walk on glass with, but for the rest of them just be yourself around them. I can imagine that he would only bring designers who are fluent in English, too, so you won't have to worry about not knowing how to speak with anyone."

"In other words," Burt tossed his hands apart, "pretend you're at a boot camp with him and he's fully prepared to make you drop and give him fifty push-ups if you mess up."

"Dad," Kurt rolled his eyes, "Blaine will do fine. Basically… don't get overwhelmed. It's really not that hard to sort through. If you ever get stuck, though, and I'm not around, ask for Unique. He's my best and favorite designer and he'll always be kind to you. You're sure you're still okay with going to New York with me?"

"Of course I am," Blaine cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. "It's just… a lot to take in. I never imagined the possibility of going through something like this to happen to me. I love the idea of supporting you in this… but I'm still adjusting to everything."

While Kurt smiled sympathetically and snuggled into Blaine's shoulder, Burt snorted, "Blaine, you'll be even more shocked when you see how many people in France want Kurt's autograph. He's a big deal in France. Up until the Calvin Klein models, Kurt modeled with some big-named stars just because he was in a Broadway show. After Kurt got fired from modeling, I had this one French girl email me asking if it was me who pulled Kurt out of modeling and that he had inspired her with his sense of fashion. Vogue would be risking a lot of money if they pulled Kurt out of this photo shoot. Kurt's the most unique thing they've ever worked with—well, other than _Unique._"

Kurt laughed at that and tightened his arms around Blaine, watching his father slide his chair back, "Alright, kid, I've got another major football game coming up so I'm gonna snatch one of those pieces of chocolate pound cake and head in for the night. All of this decorating has me worn down. I need to rest for a while. Do you two have any parties planned for the night?"

"No," Kurt shrugged his shoulders, "I mean, the football team is having one tonight but, um…" his eyes flicked to Blaine's emotionless face, his focus directed toward a piece of uneaten ham on his plate, "We're… uh… staying in tonight. I _would_ like to have a snowball fight outside with Blaine and show him how easily I could beat him, but Unique made it clear that Monsieur Stanley would take it upon himself to strangle me if I got sick for the shoot and video. We'll probably just snuggle on the couch and watch Christmas movies on TV. Speaking of, do we have any of that amazing cocoa mix Aunt Laurice sent to us?"

Burt pointed toward the kitchen, "Yeah, in one of those cabinets up there. Just dig through them and see if you can't find it." Heading around the table, Burt bent over Kurt and kissed him on the crown of his head, "Kurt, I'm really glad I got to spend this Christmas with you. Receiving mailed gifts from you was great, but having you here is just… different for me. A good different." Burt stretched his arm out and patted Blaine on the shoulder next, "Blaine, I'm glad you were here for this Christmas, too. You're as much a part of this family as Kurt and I and I want you to know how much I appreciate that you're always looking out for Kurt. It's good to know that he always has someone at school—and at home."

Blaine remained oddly serious at Burt's kind admittances, his mouth tugged into a harsh frown as his eyes drifted off. Burt ventured off toward the kitchen, and once the door clicked shut behind him Blaine's eyes darted to Kurt's face, the gruel expression still not melting away. Appearing to be weighing options, considering things and thinking about some of the more serious questions about his life and the direction it was taking, Blaine finally tore his gaze away and swallowed thickly, his mind seemingly made up.

"Blaine?" Kurt encouraged quietly, pressing his fingertips to Blaine's chest, "Blaine, what are you thinking about? Is it the modeling thing that's bothering you? I'm not forcing you, Blaine. If you don't feel comfortable—"

"Can we talk?" Blaine interrupted sharply, his expression still irked.

Startled by the boldness, Kurt leaned away and withdrew his fingers, "Um… I suppose. Did I say something, Blaine? You seem upset. Is this about those Calvin Klein models? Blaine, I'm not agreeing to modeling with them because I _want _them. I'm agreeing because I have no choice in the matter or else I'll be fired again, and I really need this job—"

Hostile, Blaine snatched Kurt's wrist in his hand and jerked him out of his seat, yanking him toward the exit which his father hadn't gone out of. Letting the door smack shut behind them again, Blaine pushed Kurt down onto their couch that suddenly lacked every meaning of being their couch to snuggle on during sappy movies. Concerned by Blaine's actions, Kurt bolted up his spine and stiffened his entire body, watching as Blaine tore one of the cushions off and ripped out a tiny box within. His heart did a minor flip, but he didn't let himself get carried away. After all, what he thought was an engagement ring earlier turned out to be a bell and handkerchief scarf for Pavarotti.

Keeping his expression from twitching with any emotion whatsoever, Kurt gasped when Blaine, instead of taking the time to fix the cushion back, lowered onto the same cushion as Kurt and smashed him up against the steel length of his body and the firm arm of the couch. Unable to help the bitter sweet feeling of excitement electrocute his bones at Blaine's dangerously ire behavior, Kurt swallowed heavily in hopes of minimizing the thundering of his heart. Blaine's eyes suddenly sparked and the gold irises flamed alive, his hand coming down on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt bit down a soft moan. Suddenly Blaine hesitated, though, as though he'd sensed something wrong about Kurt, and his fingers slithered down Kurt's flushed skin to the hem of his bodice. He slipped two fingers inside and one of them brushed a tightened nipple, causing Kurt to jerk against Blaine.

"Your heart is pounding," Blaine stated, his expression wavering for the first time, "Are you… turned on right now?"

Kurt shakily took the question as a sign to keep going, so he reached up to finger his sleeves, drawing them further down his shoulders. The dress caught the movement and fell further down, exposing his reddened nipples and belly button. Blaine's pupils grew huge and pitch black at the sight of Kurt's chest, and his fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch, but as though he'd suddenly decided to take a vow to celibacy he retracted his fingers and swore noisily. "Pull your dress up… right now! Kurt, we n-need to talk."

Pushing the dress further down his stomach, Kurt climbed anxiously into Blaine's lap and nuzzled into his neck, lapping his tongue across a vein near the surface, "But I don't want to talk. And neither do you." Kurt touched his fingers to Blaine's shirt, and he slid his fingers inside, tangling them in his chest hair. "Let's go to bed…"

Blaine, whose cock was a pulsating, steel rod at that point, jabbing into his pants, desperately grasped Kurt's shoulders and pushed him back as gently as he could. "No!" he moaned, his body screaming in reply at his brain for depriving it of what it wanted. He swore again. "Kurt, I'm being serious. I-I'm really turned on right now and I can't be alone with you because I can't control myself with you. We _need_ to talk."

Kurt clearly didn't take easily to Blaine's rejection, because he pulled his sleeves back up while picking at the fabric. "Okay…" he breathed quietly, "What about?"

Blaine settled back beside Kurt, avoiding gazing into his beautiful face for fear of losing his trace of thought, "About… earlier. When we were opening presents. And you asked me about… Pavarotti's gift. About it being an engagement ring. Were you being serious?" Finally he jerked his face up to Kurt's and caught Kurt licking his lips uncomfortably, measuring how well Blaine would take each individual answer he could spit out, so Blaine barked, "Be honest with me, Kurt! Tell me what you were thinking when you said that… not what you think I _want_ to hear."

Kurt's lips parted and a few tears shimmered in the corners of his eyes at the accusations, and he whipped his face away, "Yes and no," he whispered, continuing to lick his lips, "I… What, am I _wrong_ for wanting you to be mine! I mean, I figured you would come out before skipping to engagement rings but I… I just wanted to hope for about two seconds, Blaine! I just find it so unfair that the one boy I finally find love with is completely straight and won't ever love me the way I love him! Blaine, you cannot blame me for being completely frustrated that no matter what I do you're _never_ going to want what I want with you—!"

Blaine shook his head wildly and winced at Kurt's pained words, covering his face with his hand, "Kurt, where the hell did you come up with those ideas? You have no idea what I want with you! Kurt… I've made up my mind about you. I know that I'm supposed to be with you now, and gay or not I can't deny that every time I look at you I want to bend you over and grind you so hard you can't walk for weeks. Damn it all, Kurt, I'm _so_ fucking in love with you. And I know what I want. You. This summer… go back to Paris if you want. But when you come back—whenever we next see each other after you return, if neither of us are tied down by another person—I'm going to marry you. Okay?"

Kurt's lips trembled, a wave of shock at Blaine's audacity causing him to wonder if he wasn't actually dreaming, "And if I never go back? What if I stay here?"

Blaine nuzzled Kurt's paled out cheeks, his entire body unreactive at the stunning words, "Then I'll marry you this summer. The second you tell me you're going to stay with me I'm going to marry you, Kurt. I don't have to be gay to love you the way I do."

Kurt weakly touched his hands to Blaine's powerful shoulder blades, "But what if we never see each other again? What if one of us is married?"

"I wouldn't," Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear, "I'd be waiting for you. Always. Kurt, what I feel for you… I've never felt with anyone before. And as long as you don't marry… I can promise you that one day we're going to be wed, Kurt. Here…" Reaching behind him for the discarded box, Blaine cupped it in his palm and held it out for Kurt. "This is a promise ring, a lot like the one I gave you before we went to California. This one promises you to me, though. Baby, I do want you to go out and do what you have to with your life, but I want you to remember that you're always promised to me. If you marry another man… you can keep it on if you want because _I'll_ still be promised to _you_—"

"I won't marry another man, though," Kurt murmured, watching Blaine flip open the box to reveal a beautiful see-through, diamond band with jagged cuts around the ends where Kurt's fingers wouldn't be brushing and a thousand tiny, gold pieces surrounding a fingernail-sized light blue sapphire in the middle with the center of it dyed a dark, blood red.

"The colors represent things," Blaine pointed out as Kurt slipped the ring onto his wedding ring finger, "The white for your purity and the fact that you gave it to me out of sheer trust and love, and the gold for my eyes and the blue for yours, then the red represents love and romance. I hope you like it. Then, I… um… have one more gift for you. I know you probably think I overdid things—which I most likely did—but this gift is more… something we can keep adding onto."

Despite the serious situation Kurt smiled shyly as Blaine rose from the couch, ignoring his bobbing length which was still as hard as it was ten minutes ago, and he pulled out the rectangle box. "Another? I can't believe I missed it. Well, I guess I won't have to wear last month's coat collection to the modeling shoot, will I?"

Blaine smirked and lowered back down onto the couch beside Kurt, who scooted partially into Blaine's lap and tucked his legs under him. He laid his cheek against Blaine's shoulder and purred, yet popped his eyes open as Blaine laid the gift in his lap. Undoing the bow on top, Kurt set that aside and tugged at the corners of the paper, unwrapping them and opening the ends of the present. Kurt slid a box out of the paper and was shocked that it didn't have a designer label on the outside. He glanced up at Blaine's face but received no help from him, so he cautiously peeled the top of the box off, startled that the inside of the lid had something inside of it.

Tapped to the inside was a picture of a one year old child, a mass of curly, black hair combed back off his face and springing up in all directions. Underneath was a picture of a newborn child, his cheeks flushed and a head of unruly, milk chocolate hair spilling over his forehead. Kurt glanced up at Blaine for an explanation. "That's the day you were born." Blaine whispered, "And I was almost one in that picture. It was taken around the time when the love of my life was brought into the world, and I wasn't even aware of it. This picture really brought to life how few and in between my chances of meeting you were. You went to France, of all places, then _now_ you come back to Lima and go to the exact school as me and… you meet me. I'm not saying that I suddenly believe in fate or chance and time or something like that… I'm saying that I, for whatever reason, got lucky."

Blaine pointed to the picture right beside that one, of Blaine plopped down on the couch with Kurt bow-tied around him and their faces very close together, "That was right before I came to live here."

Kurt turned his gaze down to the box of jumbled up nonsense within, and he picked up a pack of Wrigley's Juicy Fruit gum. "Blaine… What is this? Are you… giving me gum?"

Shrugging, Blaine ran his finger over the gum wrapper ring still on Kurt's ring finger, just behind his newest addition, "This was the kind of gum I used to make this. Kurt… I know this stuff all looks pointless and everything—even when I was making it I started wondering what the hell I was doing with all of these things, but… each and every one of these things has a part in our relationship. This—" Blaine lifted up a stained piece of cloth, "—is a piece of the jacket you were wearing the day you got Slushied. That part isn't what really… matters. I've actually been trying to force that out of my mind. But… That was the day when I put my foot down and decided not to ever hurt you. And damned knows how well that worked out for me."

Lovingly Blaine looped his arms around a giggling Kurt, then he lifted up the next object—a CD of French songs that Blaine couldn't even read the names of. "The day I asked you to sing me a French song in the car… you sang track one on this CD. You have no idea the kind of hell I went through ordering this from France and trying to find out what the title of the song even was. Then, these…" he shuffled a purple stained boutonniere and a light blue corsage around, "are our memories from homecoming."

"And this?" Kurt commented quietly, lifting up a blurred picture of white splotches in a dark cave, "What is this?"

Blaine grew quiet suddenly, his eyes tracing over the picture, until he whispered, "That's Archer, Kurt." Kurt's head jerked up and he eyed Blaine suspiciously, but Blaine simply pointed to a roundly shaped blur, "That's his head. If you look close you can see a foot over there. Kurt… Cooper called me and we met up for lunch one day while you and Rachel were shopping for presents. He gave me this and told me that he knew it was a healthy boy, but that Alicia refused to find out. He said that during his three years in India… he's giving me the baby with no questions about it. And we're naming him Archer Elizabeth Anderson. He's due almost as soon as we get out of school. You want to take care of him with me?"

Still clueless about whether he was dreaming or not, Kurt glimpsed down at the image of the baby again then back up at Blaine's face, and it finally fully hit him that this was going to be his baby until the day he left for Paris. And he was going to be raising it with Blaine, which made the entire situation that much better. Panting heavily, Kurt licked his lips before realizing for the first time how much he truly did want a baby with Blaine. A baby that could bind them together eternally, a beautiful, untainted thing that could only be theirs and the product of their undying love for each other.

He whimpered helplessly and climbed anxiously into Blaine's lap, overtaken with a wild emotion of how much he did love Blaine, and Blaine automatically replied by grasping Kurt's knees one by one and looping them around his waist. He toppled Kurt back onto the couch, their waists and lower resting over the edge of the cushion where another cushion should have been, which forced their hips deeper together. Blaine lowered his lips to Kurt's exposed shoulder and bit down on the skin, causing Kurt to release a helpless moan and roll his hips into Blaine, desperate to get out of their clothes.

Blaine seemed to understand and bunched a pile of Kurt's skirt into his hand, tearing the entire front of the skirt open at the seam of the bodice. Anxiously Blaine kissed a damp line down to Kurt's sleeve, which he yanked into his teeth and also tore off as though it were a piece of paper instead. Reaching down for Kurt with his hands, Blaine grasped onto Kurt's bodice and tore the entire thing in half, folding the flaps aside and bending his head down. On any usual day Kurt would have been swatting Blaine for that kind of treatment to such a gorgeous dress, but Kurt couldn't seem to bring himself to care about anything except having his skin brushing Blaine's and basking in the electric sparks that came with it.

Overrode by Blaine, though, Kurt reached down to cup Blaine's steel rod in his pants that nearly tore the entire crotch of his pants apart, the muscle sticking so far out. Blaine lapped his hot tongue across one of Kurt's nipples, his finger coasting over Kurt's contracting stomach to his belly button where he pressed in the very tip and swirled it around. Kurt gasped and tossed his head back, squeezing down on Blaine's groin.

Blaine suckled a nipple into his mouth and anxiously drank from it, his tongue grinding against the tiny point. Kurt cried out softly and moaned, his shaky fingers drawing down the zipper on Blaine's pants. He fished inside and wriggled his fingers through the slit in Blaine's boxers, drawing out his cock by its dribbling tip. Spreading his legs while Blaine continued to suckle, Kurt awkwardly arranged his body under Blaine's so he could attempt to writhe his skirt up his legs. Anxiously pushing himself up, Kurt gasped with joy when Blaine easily reached under him and yanked the skirt up around Kurt's thighs.

Kurt took it upon himself to guide Blaine's dripping cock in between his thighs while Blaine's own work on Kurt's chest went uninterrupted. Concentrating on easing Blaine inside of himself, Kurt popped his hips up and made a face of frustration, holding Blaine's balmy tip to his entrance. He worked his body towards the cock, but as soon as he pushed the first centimeter in Blaine jerked his hips once and another two inches slipped in. Kurt's mouth fell open and he wrapped his arms around Blaine's muscular, rolling shoulders, in total awe for the feeling of being completely full of Blaine.

Blaine circled his hips around, which started to yank him out but then he drove in again, adding a whole five inches of himself into Kurt. Kurt wriggled his own hips in hope of receiving all of Blaine soon, but Blaine gave up after offering Kurt five inches and returned his focus to Kurt's nipples. Frustratingly Kurt writhed his hips but did nothing but lose an inch of Blaine, and he cried out at the loss of space inside of him being filled. "Please…" he pleaded, "Please… Blaine. D-Don't stop. Oh!"

Blaine ignored his begging so Kurt slid his fingers down Blaine's back to the slight curve of his ass, and he pressed down with his fingertips. The movement caused Blaine to push in another two inches, and Kurt groaned in ecstasy, his prostate just millimeters from being brushed. Grunting as he thought of other ways to fulfill himself, Kurt slid one hand between Blaine's body, which rested in a push-up form above his, and he glided it down Blaine's brawny stomach, where he felt a plane of smooth skin followed swiftly by a valley, then another plane, which Kurt assumed were his abs. He reached Blaine's abdomen and tucked his hand down into the tight place between where Blaine's groin disappeared into Kurt's entrance, and he wrapped a hand around the still revealed base. He pumped Blaine deeper into himself and gasped as Blaine slid more and more of himself deeper and deeper into Kurt, until finally the tip of him brushed Kurt's prostate, and Kurt bit down a scream.

"Oh!" his legs tightened around Blaine, every cell in his body heating up to a thousand degrees, and before he could stop himself he spasmed into inevitable jerks and trembles, that must have resounded into Blaine because his head lifted from Kurt's chest, and he exploded into Kurt. Holding his eyes open, Kurt watched through blurry vision as Blaine threw his head back and spilled his load into Kurt, his veins in his neck protruding farther out and his jaw clenched tight to hold down noise. Kurt wriggled when some of Blaine's seeds leaked out onto his inner thighs, and eventually everything cooled down inside of him, leaving only a fluttering feeling in his stomach and a thin layer of perspiration coating his skin. Blaine, who also came down slowly from his high and started to jerk out of Kurt, moaned when Kurt clamped his legs tight, stopping him.

He gazed into the weary, golden orbs staring down at him, Blaine's long hair falling over his face and nearly brushing Kurt's nose as Blaine panted and shivered, his body still erupting into random and far and in between spasms in the aftermath. Blaine's dark face shimmered, his lips moist and bruised, and otherwise he looked more gorgeous than Kurt had ever seen him. "Wait," Kurt whispered, attempting to clamp his entrance around Blaine's softening length, "I like this position. It makes me feel more promised to you."

Kurt lifted his hand and rubbed his ring across Blaine's damp cheek, his eyes misting over when Blaine turned his head slightly and brushed his lips over the ring, his eyes shutting tiredly. Drawing Blaine's face down to his, Kurt brushed his lips over all of Blaine's skin that his lips could reach, and he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Blaine. _Je t'aime_… always."

A weak smile worked Blaine's lips upright, his arms trembling as to not collapse on top of Kurt, and a helpless tear rolled down Blaine's cheek and dripped off his nose, right onto Kurt's own cheek. Kurt's lips demurely curved at Blaine's tears of joy. "_Je t'aime._" Blaine replied as best he could, then switched over to English, "I love you, my sweet Christmas angel. Always."

Kurt smiled and wrapped his arms around Blaine, his eyes fluttering shut peacefully as Blaine nuzzled his neck. _I was right, Pavarotti,_ he thought, hoping his bird might get the mental message, _this Christmas was perfect._

Actually, Pavarotti… It was more than perfect, wasn't it?


	24. Rumour Has It

Author's note: Salut, my readers. This chapter is the start of the New York chapters! I have no idea how many there will be but New York spans over two weeks so there will be a lot going on. The beginning of this chapter bothers me. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's kind of boring because I've never liked working with Mercedes, Tina or Rachel. They just complicate the story and it's bugging me. Thank you to JMarieAllenPoe for the amazing ideas at the beginning. I probably wouldn't have gotten through that scene without you. Anyway, now comes the giant, rambling explanation speech so for those of you who just want to enjoy the story and don't want to hear what I have to say (I take no offense to that), please skip ahead to the paragraph after the linebreak below this and be amazed at the makings of this chapter.

Anyway, now the rambling. About a week ago I got a review stating that the person who wrote it doesn't think that the Blaine and Kurt in my story have a healthy relationship and that the smut I write isn't very good. I'll address the last part first because it's easier to explain than the first. As far as me writing smut goes, I more take after the Kurt quote from the Glee TV shows where he states that porn depresses him and that he think the touch of the fingertips is sexy enough. Besides when I was a kid and showed little short stories I wrote to my parents, I've never exposed one of my stories before. I have a laptop which I use only to write my novels on, and each of them have contained smut but no one has ever read my work before this story. I've had to adjust a lot to the fact that people are actually reading this and it's not even people I know, so it's really taken its toll on me to adapt to the fact that this isn't my own work that I can judge on my own and read over fifty times and adjust it each time. Once I put it on here, everyone sees every word I write. As far as me expressing my views, I'm not holding back on that. I'll clearly put my opinions in this and that doesn't bother me. Writing smut in this, however, is when it really hits me that people are going to be judging this and probably realize that the only smut-like experience I've had is reading other romance novels and M-rated fics on here. In the novels I've written I've always been able to get through smut easily and it actually flows well because I'm the only one reading it, but with this story it is a little more forced because I'm not exactly comfortable exposing such an intimate act between two people. It seems wrong for me to make Klaine smut into something less wholesome by adding vibrators or dildos because on the TV show they both seem so much more about each other rather than the objects they can use. I understand that some authors try to make the smut more fun by adding those kinds of things to Klaine smut, but to me Klaine and dildos have never once mixed. I can appreciate that kind of smut in other stories, but in my own story the way I've written it is the way I'll continue to write the smut. If all of you honestly don't like the smut I'll stop writing it in future chapters. I almost did that a while ago because of some problems with this site that I heard about, but a few of my reviewers actually did like it so I kept it. I hope that didn't offend any of you who do write smut the more playful way by adding in adult toys or something like that. I'm not saying that I don't find those kinds of fics amusing and funny when I read them, I just won't write that way with my own characters.

As far as Blaine treating Kurt like a "doormat" in this story, I do think that Blaine does have a much more powerful and dominating physique both internally and out, but not because I'm turning Kurt into his doormat or anything. It's just the way I've made his life up until Kurt happen. He's obviously dealt with "cold-shoulder" parents who don't really love him, so that's definitely been a part of why he acts so calloused. Then when he met up with Karofsky, their friendship sort of finished him off. Wounds from people hurting him and things happening in his life have scarred him and therefore made him a very hardened, cynical person, which Kurt obviously isn't. Their two personalities clash so much and they couldn't be more opposite that it makes Kurt appear much more dainty than he actually is. Kurt's only dealt with his friend's and mom's death and moving continents but he personally has never really been wounded until Karofsky, which makes him comes off as very naive and innocent compared to Blaine's worldliness. Kurt actually has a lot of fire in him and doesn't put up with a lot, which will be seen more towards the end of this story. The thing about Blaine treating Kurt badly during this story is what exactly I don't understand. If you're referring to when Blaine calls Kurt "brat" or words like that, he's saying them more as endearments and Kurt understands that. I've never actually written a scene where I've specifically made Blaine treat Kurt badly, except at the very beginning during the library scene, which Blaine does try to stop. He's always acted out of protecting Kurt and if that means that Kurt won't always get exactly what he wants but it's better or safer for him, Blaine's going to do it. He wants the best for Kurt at all times. If you're talking about Blaine refusing to come out, he's not rejecting Kurt or saying he doesn't love him. Blaine is just considering every single option, like he does during Ben or Perfect. He doesn't want to hold Kurt back from France when Kurt is saying he'll stay with Blaine because Blaine knows he'd be hindering Kurt's dreams, but he's also scared of just the idea of coming out. He doesn't understand why Kurt can be so happy even when people are calling him names because he doesn't have the accepting friendships that Kurt does. Blaine only sees what Karofsky will do to him and not that people can actually accept him. Blaine wants to be with Kurt more than anything, though, and therefore decides to be his secret "boyfriend", which is also more of an endearment than an actual label at this point.

If there are anymore questions about my story, I'd be happy to answer them. I know that Kurt and Blaine's relationship can get confusing at times. Or if you just have a suggestion for me about the New York chapters or anything feel free to PM me or review :)

Disclaimer: I'm not Ryan Murphy, but he needs to get himself busy on having Season Four premiering soon or else I'm going to have issues with him. Along with not owning Glee, I totally don't own this fancy hotel I mentioned. I wish I did because that would be totally cool, and you can even Google it because it is real. But I have no idea if it even has a honeymoon suite or what the interior looks like. Me = Not as rich as Vogue and therefore can't stay in that hotel :(

* * *

Rolling his white luggage case to the edge of his staircase and nestling it against Blaine's black, duffel bag, Kurt shakily lifted his fingertips to his lips and rubbed in hopes of keeping them from trembling. He blinked away the foggy mist dampening his eyes at the sound of Blaine's voice below speaking on the phone with an airport attendant to learn where exactly they needed to be at what time. _It's two weeks, Kurt,_ he reminded himself bravely, _you can handle two weeks away from home. Besides, you'll be with Blaine and the girls. You aren't going into this alone._

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a jingling bell and he pursed his lips together at the sight of Pavarotti digging at his cage bars, his beak wrapped around one and tugging. "Pavarotti," he whispered hoarsely, returning to his bird and opening the cage door. Pavarotti automatically skimmed the side of his cage, foot over foot, grasping each bar, until he hopped down into the cup of Kurt's hand. "Don't dig at your cage so badly. You know you can't come with me. Believe me, I would love to bring you."

Pavarotti twittered and cocked his head, his beady eyes staring up at Kurt's face as though wondering if Kurt was leaving him for good. For Kurt, leaving Pavarotti was like leaving his own new born baby in its first few moments of life. The challenge of it swelled a lump into his throat and he ducked his head down to kiss the top of Pavarotti's head. Pavarotti twittered and flapped, his talons digging at Kurt's palm in his plan to hook himself onto Kurt. A single tear slipped from Kurt's cheek and he pressed another kiss to the side of Pavarotti's head, "I love you, too, Pavarotti. It's only two weeks, I promise."

Bowing his head despondently, Pavarotti chirped when Kurt's door flew open wider and the sound of Blaine's footsteps echoed across the floor. "Kurt, the limo just pulled in. I'm going to take your stuff downstairs and your dad's ready to take Pavarotti now if you want to say goodbye—Kurt?" Blaine's voice hesitated, and Kurt partially lifted his lashes to meet the gaze of Blaine's curious eyes, his hands returning his duffel bag to the floor. Blaine's brows furrowed, "Hey… what's the matter, baby? Kurt… you don't _have_ to go on this trip. One call and I can make everything go away."

Kurt shook his head, still stroking his fingers down Pavarotti's back, "It's not… the trip. I… I'm not ready… to leave Pavarotti yet. I'm so afraid that he's going to panic without me or you around and it's going to stress him out with staying at my dad's friend's place, where I don't know if they'll play their music too loud around him or if they're a bunch of Blackjack playing drunkards who will forget about him—I know my dad promised to take the best care of him, but he's never had a pet before and has no idea about the responsibilities and Pavarotti is extremely sensitive to _everything,_ Blaine. Anything could happen over two weeks."

"Kurt," Blaine smirked, his tone nearly relieved as if Kurt's worries were minor, "Baby, no one said you couldn't bring him. He'd be fine for an hour long flight if you do want to bring him. Besides, he wouldn't even be in cargo. We're taking a private jet."

Cynically Kurt narrowed his eyes, "But what about when all of us have to leave the hotel room and no one's there with him?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Do you know how many stars bring their pets onto the sets of their movies, or even a photo shoot? Pavarotti will be fine, Kurt. You'd be miserable this entire trip without him and he'd be miserable without you." Leaning over Kurt, Blaine pressed a swift kiss to his forehead, "I'll let your dad know that we're bringing him. Mm… I love you." Blaine casually wiped the tear streak away from Kurt's cheek, wheeling around on his heel and heading toward the luggage cases.

Kurt glimpsed back at Pavarotti, who chirped after Blaine and swayed from side to side. "Well, Pavarotti," Uncrossing his legs, Kurt lifted himself up from the bed and meandered toward the window. He pushed aside the curtain to gaze down at the stretch limo in his driveway, the starting place for the rest of his future, and he lifted Pavarotti up to give him a chance to see it, "What do you think about going to New York?"

* * *

Blaine loaded the last of the luggage into the trunk of the limo, much to their driver's grievance that Blaine wouldn't let him do the work he'd been hired to do himself. It wasn't that Blaine was trying to deprive the poor man of his job or avoiding Kurt, who already rested inside the car with Pavarotti cradled on his lap. Blaine needed the physical exertion or else he would explode. The truth hit him during his shower that morning when he'd stepped out onto the tile floors and noticed that each and every one of Kurt's creams, moisturizers, hairsprays and soaps were all packed away. He really was going to New York City for two weeks with people who, a year ago, he'd been Slusheing brutally about this time of the year.

His lips parted at the very idea of how much his life had transformed within a matter of two months, and he dug his fingers into his palms. Snapping the trunk shut over the bags, Blaine remained standing there for a few more minutes staring out across the street to his former home, where his room still lay vacant, probably being prepped for his mom's new workout room, or his dad's renovated at-home office. He'd grown up in that house since the very day of his birth, and he curiously wondered how he'd not run into Kurt before he left for Paris. Had he kept himself that solitude or did Kurt just never come outside? Both of them would have been very young, and from what it sounded like Burt and Elizabeth had always taken Kurt out places, to parks or museums or art exhibits, which was where he inherited his love of culture.

Blaine chose to let Kurt's ever vanishing form from his home explain why they had never met before two months ago, but had lived across the street from each other for eight years.

Blowing out heavily, Blaine floated back around the car and slipped in one of the doors, instantly overwhelmed by the scent of artificial blossoms wafting from a car air freshener stowed away somewhere. He assumed that at one time Justin Bieber or some boy band had rode in this limo, or maybe owned it, because the interior appeared very youthful, stocked with a mini fridge in the corner and a TV dangling from the ceiling, built with two rows of seats in the back facing each other rather than the second row gazing at the backs of the first rows' heads.

Ignoring the fancy, million dollar design within the car, Kurt huddled in one of the seats in the back, Pavarotti's cage at his feet and Pavarotti cupped in his hands. He cooed quietly to the bird whose feathers had fluffed up from the air conditioner blowing straight on him, giving him a very windblown appearance. Despite how horrible his wounds had been, Pavarotti was actually managing to heal quite nicely, his leg scabbed over and tiny tuffs of feathers poking out of the scar on his head. The only thing left to work with was his wing, which appeared to be getting stronger by every day.

Blaine threw himself down in the row of seats opposite of Kurt, sprawling his limbs out. Kurt abruptly lifted his head and murmured something in French to the driver, who replied with his own spew of French words and the limo purred to life. Kurt managed a brief smile and mumbled what Blaine thought might have been words of gratitude, but he wasn't sure. A dark, glass wall lowered down from the ceiling behind Blaine, blocking both their vision of the driver and the driver's vision of them. Blaine assumed it blocked out hearing, too.

The TV suddenly flipped on by itself and revealed an empty room with fashionista posters hung around it and mannequins dressed in sequins, cashmere and heavy, fur coats. Casually leaving his eyes on the screen, Kurt leaned over to grasp the fridge door and pull it open. He excavated a cherry flavored water, then gestured silently for Blaine to choose from every brand of soda on the face of the earth, flavored waters, lemonades categorized by sourness, and a few energy drinks. Blaine decided on a simple Mountain Dew, cracking it open and swigging down one drink of it before returning his eyes to the screen.

Suddenly, the sound of murmuring alerted him and he straightened his spine, watching as a dark skinned, shorter boy who hardly looked sixteen years old wandered onto the screen then lowered into a chair. He smiled brightly at the sight of Kurt, breaking into a flood of rapid fire French. Blaine mentally groaned, damning himself for choosing two years of Spanish rather than bothering with French, which he assumed was a dying language at the time. He'd had no idea that the future love of his life would _be _French.

Trying to make out a few similar words to English ones, Blaine strained to find common ground between the two languages but could hardly even determine what sound ended one word and started the next. Kurt's casual smile didn't waver once, and when the dark skinned boy finished speaking Kurt replied with the same jumbled up, alien language at the same rapid paced speed. Suddenly he held up Pavarotti to the screen and Blaine assumed that he had introduced his new pet, because Blaine did make out Pavarotti's name. Pavarotti twittered and fluffed, as though fanning himself like a show bird. Blaine glowered at the bird for understanding what they were saying even more than Blaine was. Pavarotti merely chirped at him, still fluffing, as though to rub it in Blaine's face.

Abruptly, though, Kurt switched to English as easily as he might switch to second gear when driving a car, and Blaine wondered how after speaking one language for so long he could so simply jump back to the other one. "Unique, this is Blaine. He's the one doing the video with me—and the one I'm planning on asking Monsieur Stanley to do my photo shoot with, too."

Unique cocked his brows at Blaine, sizing him up little by little. Blaine shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward Kurt who remained staring at the screen. At last, the younger boy whistled, "You sure can pick them, Kurt. You said he doesn't speak _any_ French? I hope he doesn't get lost on the set, then. Stanley sent in at least ten assistants who speak _only_ French."

"Oh, no," Kurt murmured with a wince, biting down on his lip, "I don't think _any_ of my friends took French. Our glee club teacher is also the Spanish teacher, and everyone in glee loves Mr. Schue so they take Spanish, instead."

Nodding his head in understanding, Unique popped out his phone and typed speedily at the screen, "I'll see what I can do about that situation. Don't worry, we do have translators and assistants who speak English up here, but they're far and in between." Glancing back up from his phone, Unique shook his head at Blaine, "Oh, whoops. Sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Unique, but you can call me that or Wade. How long have you been getting vocal lessons? A few years?"

Blaine cleared his throat, glimpsing over at Kurt in wonder of what that last jab was supposed to mean and if they might reject him if they found out he'd just gotten into singing. Kurt swiftly leaned forward, "Two years." He blurted out, "And Blaine's trained in both guitar and piano."

"Good," Unique clicked away at his phone again, and for a brief moment Blaine grew oddly curious of whether or not he was taking notes on him. "What kind of work have you done before, Blaine? Who have you worked with?"

Again, Blaine could think of no words to say, but Kurt quickly answered, "Unique, have you heard that one of the girls coming on this trip is interested in Broadway? She's met Carmen Tibideaux and even auditioned to get into NYADA."

Unique expressed little interest in Rachel's life story, "And did she get in?"

Kurt blinked, sinking down into his seat, "No… Not exactly. But she's contacting Madam Tibideaux nearly every day hoping for another shot."

For the first time during the entire conversation, Unique flashed his coarse, _I-might-only-look-like-I'm-fourteen-years-old-but-I'm-a-big-name-designer _hidden personality, "A choker _and_ desperate. If she's not able to get into a tacky American college, then she definitely won't make it in big time, French Broadway. Kurt, you're my closest friend, but I'm being totally honest here as your editor… If you bring in a bunch of amateur Americans who think that a high school glee club is the big time, Stanley's going to have you scraping gum off of his shoes by the end of the day. He wants real, Madonna talent."

The smile slowly faded from Kurt's lips at the realization that he'd brought Tina, Mercedes and Rachel with him to a billion dollar, designer company who was paying at least a hundred thousand for Kurt's arrival, his shoot and his video. With Tina's stutter, Mercedes' bad, demanding attitude and Rachel's obsessive need to be better than everyone in the room, he suddenly had the quaking feeling inside of him that he did as he stood in line for a roller coaster that had recently broken down. Lying through his teeth, Kurt murmured a pitch too high, "I do… have that. All of my friends are Madonna worthy. I think I see the airport coming up, so I'll call you in a few minutes."

Kurt clicked a button on the mantel by his arm, shutting the TV screen off and he lifted Pavarotti's cage off of the floor to lower Pavarotti into it, then clicked the door shut behind the bird. Despite Kurt's seemingly relaxed exterior, Blaine noticed the anxious glow to his blue eyes, and he realized that when Kurt said one more mistake would land him on the streets… he wasn't exaggerating in the least. Blaine couldn't help but wonder if Stanley would understand that Kurt was only human, or if he was just another model not allowed to speak out of turn or make one mistake, a porcelain doll in the corner, meant to be admired from afar but never touched. And bringing Rachel, Mercedes and Tina into that environment… probably wasn't the best move to make.

* * *

Rachel lifted her powder to her nose one last time to assure that each feature was flawless, since when Kurt said he would meet her at the airport, she had no idea what famous celebrity he'd be bringing with him. Part of her adored having a famous friend—if not on this continent, but on another—because that meant more connections for her, more celebrity parties, and more chances of someone realizing just how talented she was and how Carmen Tibideaux had it all wrong.

Glancing up at her friends—Tina also anxiously fluffing her hair but Mercedes casually eating a bagel she bought from a nearby Block's—Rachel pinched her cheeks to give herself a natural, pink glow. "Tina, how do you think my hair looks? Is it too much? I put too much bounce in it, didn't I?"

Tina barely tore her eyes from her own miniature compact mirror, briefly murmuring, "It looks great, Rachel. Mercedes, how can you possibly be so calm? Who do you think Kurt has with him? It could be the guy who's judging our outfits! We _need_ to make good impressions."

Mercedes bit into her bagel, a glop of cream cheese nearly dropping onto her shining, gold leggings, "I don't need to assure how good I look—because I know I look good. And I think I have an idea of who Kurt is with. Blaine… and a bird. Oh, wait, I think that guy behind them is following them. But he looks more like the butlers in those old romance movies."

Rachel spun around in her chair and caught sight of Kurt and Blaine walking side by side, their arms linked, and a bird cage dangling from Kurt's fingers like it was some kind of accessory. Close on their heels strolled a scrawny man in a dark suit with two things of luggage rolling along behind him. "I think you're right," she frowned, "No famous designer would carry someone else's luggage. Maybe that bird Kurt has belongs to someone famous, though!"

"No," Mercedes grumbled, "See, the bird has a scarf around its neck. And only Kurt would put a scarf on a bird. Did you know that Kurt had a bird?"

Tina shook her head, "No. But, boy, does Blaine look good. It looks like he's gotten a little sun."

Rachel's eyes shot to Tina's face, "You like Blaine? But you're with Mike!"

Tina smirked and tossed her dark hair over one shoulder, "I like any man with abs. Besides, Mike doesn't tan and Blaine does. Really well. And I think everyone at this table can agree that if he asked they would easily go make out in a closet with him. Kurt's so lucky. I mean, _living_ with the most gorgeous guy in school?"

Mercedes glared at her, "I'll happily stay with my Trouty, thank you very much. I had a crush on Blaine at the beginning of freshmen year, but when he tossed that Slushie all up in my grill, things changed. Besides, look at what he did to Rachel, posting those pictures of her all over the school—"

"Shh!" Rachel waved her hands around her mouth, "Hush! They're coming!" Casually posing herself in case the butler guy was the famous designer in disguise, after all, to get a look at what they might wear on an airplane, Rachel attempted a surprised expression at Kurt when he reached their vicinity, "Kurt! I had no idea you'd be here yet! What a cute bird."

Kurt smiled awkwardly at Rachel, holding up Pavarotti's cage, "_Merci._ This is Pavarotti, Blaine's Christmas present to me. How did your Christmases go?" He leaned down for a one armed hug from Rachel, then waved to Mercedes and Tina, the former still chewing up a bite of bagel.

Rachel poked a finger through the cage and stroked the twittering bird as Kurt set the cage down on the table, "My Christmas was great! Finn took me along with his family to go skiing at this cabin right outside of Westerville. I feel so bloated, though, his family made so much food on Christmas. Hopefully that doesn't affect my chances of winning."

Pulling open the door to Pavarotti's cage when the bird hopped to the corner closest to Mercedes and her bagel, eyeing the sesame seeds longingly, Kurt cupped the bird in his palm and drew him out for some space to stretch out. "Don't worry, you look great. Blaine forced me to participate in sharing a piece of chocolate pound cake with him and I _know_ it went straight to my hips. I'm still holding it against him."

Pavarotti bobbed and twittered, ducking his head down and opening his beak at the bagel, as though imagining that a seed was being slipped into his mouth. Mercedes cocked a brow at the bird, then glanced up at Kurt, "Is that bird starved or something? These seeds have salt on them, little bird; I think that can make you sick."

Kurt flushed and pulled Pavarotti closer to his chest, "We fed him not an hour ago. I think he's just greedy because he hasn't been fed a good meal in so long."

Blaine instantly intercepted for Kurt before the girls could start asking questions about why Pavarotti looked like he'd been run over by a car tire with all of his splints and gauze, touching Kurt's arm, "Kurt, baby, I… um… think we should get a start toward the plane. And I… uh… can't understand what our driver's been saying. His accent's too thick."

Kurt glanced over at the gesturing driver and swiftly handed Pavarotti over to Blaine, who tweeted and nibbled at the skin on the inside of Blaine's thumb. Stepping towards the driver, Kurt immediately took the sunglasses and baseball hat he passed over to Kurt, "You need to take these," the driver tested every word on his tongue, some of them missing letters or a sound or two, "and put them on when you reach New York City. Monsieur Stanley insists. Your bodyguard will meet you at the gate and you'll be driven to your hotel for the night. Unique will meet you there. Is this clear? You're to go now and meet Marcel by the gate. He will escort you to your flight."

Pursing his lips together, Kurt nodded his head, "_Merci,_ Theodore. You've been great help today."

Blaine emerged beside Kurt again, finishing the transaction off by handing the driver fifteen dollars. Theodore bowed his head gratefully and scampered off into the chaos of the airport, abandoning Kurt and Blaine to their own elements. Blaine spun around to the girls still poking their fingers into Pavarotti's cage, and he scooted it off the table into his arms, then touched his hand to Kurt's waist. "The jet is waiting outside. We need to head out now."

Rachel squealed and hopped to her feet, "I cannot _wait_ for this trip! I knew that fate would bring me to New York one day. It _is_ destiny!"

Something in Blaine's stomach twitched, and he swallowed down a bucket full of nasty words about how _Kurt_ was the one bringing her to New York, not fate. And how this trip was about _Kurt_ and his future career, not her. Keeping himself cool so he didn't have an outburst in the middle of an airport, Blaine bit down on the inside of his cheek, "Rachel, I hope you realize that this Stanley guy is the obstacle to Kurt's future and if you fuck up in front of him, Kurt's life is going to be like hell back in France. He _needs_ this money for Broadway."

She waved him off, "Blaine, I expected something like _this_ to happen but I already told myself I'm not going to let you get to me. Kurt might enjoy you but to _me_… you're not here. It's all about finding my inner peace and—"

Blaine clamped down on her wrist, his golden eyes flaming alive, "Rachel, you're going to find a lot of your inner pieces all over the fucking ground if you shit this up for Kurt. If not that every week _should _be, these next two weeks are going to be all about Kurt. I know that sounds difficult for a person like you, but if for one second you put yourself in front of Kurt—especially in front of Stanley—I'll see to it that your life becomes a living hell at school."

Rachel scoffed, "You already did that once! I'm prepared for anything _you'll_ bring to the table—"

"Guys!" Mercedes shouted, waving her hands in the air, "Can't we have two weeks where you two don't _fight?_ This is what I was dreading about this trip—_you_, Blaine! I don't understand why Kurt puts up with you; you're just a bitter, insecure, Karofsky-wannabe! Is Rachel not allowed to be excited to go to the one place she's always wanted to go? Come on, Rachel." Linking arms with Rachel, Mercedes stormed ahead of them and with one glare tossed over her shoulder she and Rachel disappeared into the tunnel leading onto the plane.

Tina, who had awkwardly been left behind, threw a kind smile up at Blaine, "I don't think you're half-bad, Blaine—" At Blaine's severe expression she scurried up ahead with the rest of the girls, able to be heard calling for the girls all throughout the tunnel.

Kurt gently brushed his fingers over Blaine's sleeve, and Blaine turned his head to meet Kurt's kind and sympathetic eyes, "Give them a chance to warm up to you, Blaine. They don't know the side of you that I know."

Blaine shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, "They'll never know me as anything other than an asshole. You saw about an hour worth of that side of me, Kurt. You don't know what I was like before I met you. I'm sure the girls have told you _plenty,_ though. I don't know, baby… Sometimes I want to take it all back and start fresh with _everyone_, but then I look at the way ninety percent of them treat you and it's like… this part of me is triggered and I'll do anything to protect you, even ruin _my_ friendships and social life."

Curving his lips, Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's again and cuddled into his side, growing quiet as the two of them approached a young, ruddy haired boy with a round face and childish eyes. He would have almost passed for the same _cuteness _rating that Kurt labeled babies, puppies or Justin Bieber _before_ he hit puberty, except then the boy turned his head to Blaine briefly and Kurt noticed a splotchy path of dug at zits under his jaw, a few of them recently popped and rash red. Kurt held down a gag at the lack of skin care—or maybe body care in general—presented to him in this youthful package.

He assumed that the boy was another French assistant of Monsieur Stanley's but so fresh in his career that he got placed one level up from scraping the gum off of Monsieur Stanley's shoes and upgraded to Kurt's personal flight attendant. He figured that the upgrade must have been recent and made sure that neither he nor Blaine shook hands with the teenager, for fear of what dirt particles might be breeding on the boy's hands and under his nails—most likely pus, dead skin, dried gum pieces, and scum from floors—so Kurt meekly smiled instead, "_Salut._"

Although the boy appeared focused in on Kurt, his jaw dropped about two inches with his pupils dark and wide while a flush burned into his cheeks, his face remained blank so Kurt tilted his head, switching over to unsure English. "What is your name?"

"Uh…" the boy's eyes abruptly watered, and he scratched at the underside of his jaw again, which triggered Kurt's gag reflex once more. He licked his dry, chapped lips over and over until they, too, were bright and disgustingly wet, coated in moist, cold saliva, and his body trembling. "Uh… Um…"

Blaine arched his brows in partial concern, "Kid… A-Are you okay?"

The boy managed to nod his head, stumbling backwards into the hallway which spilled out onto the plane, and half walking backwards he continuously glanced over his shoulder at Kurt, who tossed his gaze up to Blaine and touched his face as though in question of whether he had something on it or not. Blaine shook his head at Kurt and twitched his shoulders, nudging him behind the kid onto the jet.

With one last glance at Kurt, the boy vanished behind a curtain and low whispers followed behind, which, although vaguely creepy, allowed Blaine and Kurt time to explore their surroundings. A larger version of the limo they'd recently ridden in, the interior of the jet was painted a bright, apple color with cheerful pictures of fruit hung around—even though Blaine was still trying to figure out how pictures of fruit could be cheerful. A mini fridge resided in the corner, while two silky couches were cooped up in the center, facing each other with a single coffee table between them. A four sided TV hung down from the ceiling in the center of the couches, displaying a soap opera that Blaine didn't know about with the low volume displaying French, but English words scanning across the bottom of the screen.

The girls had formed a cove out of one of the couches, with Rachel in the center and her phone held out for everyone to see. "Oh," Tina smirked and pressed her hands to her heart, "He said he misses you! Rachel, Finn is the sweetest!"

Rachel snapped her phone shut as soon as Blaine lowered onto the couch opposite them and tugged Kurt down into his lap, "Oh, wait, I forgot we're not supposed to have any fun on this trip. And texting my _boyfriend_ is fun."

Blaine's eyes started to flame up again, his spine stiffening, but Kurt swiftly brushed his chest while Blaine's lips twitched to fire back at Rachel. Instead, he lowered back into his seat and whipped his head around toward the window. Prior to any other words being tossed around like grenades in the endless war, two male flight attendants followed on each other's heels to where Kurt and Blaine were sitting, the former being the youthful kid back in the airport, and the latter being a mid-twenties, Calvin Klein knock-off. At least six feet and three inches just by estimating, the lanky, scrawny servant had a very rectangular shaped head with his eyes too scrunched together, but from the way his gelled, golden blond hair was swept back in a half comb-over, half coif, it was clear to Kurt that he wanted a spot on a magazine and would do anything for Monsieur Stanley to get there. In a thick, French accent, the comb-over man grinned from ear to ear and rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder, "Compliments of Monsieur Stanley, you are privileged to have _anything_ you desire. We have five-star food, a foot massager complete with a suds bath, a masseuse or we have—"

Kurt offered a polite smile, holding up his hand to motion for the attendant to stop speaking, "Thank you, but I'm fine right now. If I need something I'll be sure to ask."

"Um…" Tina cleared her throat, "Could I see about that suds bath?"

While the ruddy haired boy momentarily tore his eyes from Kurt then chose to ignore her, both of them leaned closer to Kurt, the blond even daring to reach out and brush his fingers over Kurt's cheek, "You _are_ very beautiful. Would it be too forward to ask what products you use or what doctor you went to? Your features are _flawless._ I bet that face cost you a hundred thousand dollars, didn't it? I've never seen _anyone_ with a face like yours."

Kurt giggled uncomfortably, pursing his lips together and touching one of his collarbones, "Actually… my features are genetic. My mother had the same face I do. I use skin care products, but I've never had plastic surgery done."

The blond's mouth fell open, "You're joking. Well, whatever you do to your face, keep doing it. You are _stunning._ The reason I'm being so invasive is… My son, Marcel… got uncomfortable asking earlier, but he'd like to know if you're currently attached. He owns every issue of Vogue that you've been featured in and bought an entire closet of your clothes line. He even took this job _just_ for these next two weeks so he could meet you."

Eyeing the ruddy haired boy with a newfound interest, Kurt vaguely heard Rachel and Mercedes in the background, "He's your _son?_"

"You have no idea how many times I get asked that question, and I'm more and more flattered every time." The blond filed at his nail, "My partner, Orlando, and I adopted Marcel. We didn't want to deal with the racquet of a baby, and I just knew that I could make something of Marcel before he came of age. Right now we're trying to figure out the best skin creams, hair colors, and diets to put him on to make him _flawless._ He's told me before that he wants to be just like you when he comes of age, Monsieur Hummel."

The relief inside of Kurt at being called _Monsieur Hummel_ again nearly sparked his eyes with tears, and this time he managed to slip his hand through Marcel's without gagging—well, without _almost_ gagging. "I'm flattered, Marcel," Kurt withdrew his hand, reaching in the bag Blaine had set at his feet and digging out one of his least favorite scarves he'd packed just in case of a cold emergency, and he handed it over to Marcel whose eyes widened, "That's a one-of-a-kind Miu Miu scarf I got as a gift after one of my first photo shoots. If you want it, you can keep it. I'm grateful that you find my work so inspiring. Marcel… I _am_ attached to someone and besides, I'm probably more than five years older than you. Perhaps you should find someone more your age but I'm sure you would have made a wonderful partner."

Marcel flushed and tore his gaze away, "_Merci, _Monsieur Hummel. You're my g-greatest idol."

Kurt smiled demurely after Marcel when he stumbled away, obviously flushed and flustered from Kurt's kindness and generosity, yet his adoptive father still remained at Kurt's side. "Monsieur Hummel," he touched his chest, "forgive me if I'm overstepping, but I _must _know what products you use and what your opinion on making my son flawless would be. I want him to go from being a _before_ picture to an _after _one."

The delicate smile wavered, and Kurt glanced over his shoulder at Marcel, "He looks only thirteen. I'd suggest a few more years of letting him age first and be a normal kid with his friends or else he'll lose heart if he feels suffocated. I only got into modeling when I was sixteen years old."

"Yes, but you've always had flawless features. My son _doesn't._ Please, I'm begging for advice."

"Um…" Kurt uncomfortably shifted his weight around, "For now, I think he's fine. If you want to get him started on a skin care routine, for his skin… since he's more beige than I am I'd put him on it at nighttime only, around the same time every night. I suggest using more of a light cream at first, then adding more blackhead acid as the months go by. Never keep him on one cream for more than two weeks because his skin will become immune to it. Also, have him out in the sun more and drinking herbal teas. His skin should start showing progression within eleven to sixteen weeks. Later on when he's older I would take him to a doctor about any other tips you need for him."

"You are _genius!_" the blond man shouted, gripping down on Kurt's shoulder a bit too firmly for Kurt's comfort—not that any touch from this man truly made him comfortable, "Oh, I could kiss you right now!" The man leaned in and in France an appreciative kiss to the mouth was nothing unusual, but before the man could make contact Blaine cleared his throat and held his hand out, halting the man just as he puckered his lips. The lips swiftly un-puckered.

At a vibration shuddering throughout the jet and the sound of air being released under their feet, the man jolted upright and alertly spun on his heel, "Oh! I've got to get up to the front. It was a pleasure, Monsieur Hummel. You're one of the kindest models I've ever come across. Monsieur Stanley will whip that right out of you, but… until that happens, _ciao._" Waving over his shoulder, the man paced up to the front and dragged his son behind the curtain with him.

Rachel, usually the first to speak, murmured, "I sort of feel bad for Marcel. His dad is taking away his childhood."

"Yeah, and trying to put the moves on Kurt," Mercedes snorted, tossing a complimentary bag of peanuts at Kurt from the last trip the jet had taken that she found wedged between the seats. "Is _that_ why you have to wear that disguise in New York City? Because of creeps like him? Kurt, this is why I'm never nice. You're nice to people and then they start stalking you!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, batting the peanuts to the floor, "It's best to have friends rather than enemies. Friends are less likely to spread nasty rumors in the tabloids. Besides, I don't have it in me to be mean. I have my mother's nature and she would have given a plate of cookies to her worst enemy."

"Speaking of cookies," Tina reached up to press the _call_ button on the panel above her head, "I want in on one of those. It's nice having a famous friend who can get you cookies and a flight on his own private jet."

"Wait!" Rachel batted Tina's hand down, "If you call for them they'll come back and spend ten minutes demanding Kurt sign every possession they own. It must get annoying having paparazzi everywhere you go."

"Rachel, the last person who should be saying that is you," Mercedes grumbled, "You'd give anything for your own paparazzi." Cutting herself off when the screens on the TV flashed white, then a picture of the same room that had been on the TV in the limo plastered itself onto the screen. This time Unique resided in his chair pounding away at his phone again, and Tina leaned away from the TV.

"What kind of show is this?" she whispered, drawing in Unique's attention. She patted Mercedes on the arm, "Is this creepy to you, too? It looks like he's staring right at us. Maybe this is one of those Paranormal movies and the monster is about to eat him."

"I would surely hope not," Unique murmured, his brow raising to his hairline, and Tina jumped back in her chair. Mercedes rolled her eyes at the show of naïvety. "Welcome, ladies. I'm Unique but I go by Wade, too. I've worked with Kurt in the past designing his outfits and famous clothing line so you might have heard of me—"

"Oh, my gosh!" Rachel nearly lunged at the TV, "You're Unique! I love your work! It's such an honor to meet you!"

Unique's eyes flicked to Kurt, "I thought you said they were professionals, Kurt." When Kurt dipped his eyes toward the floor in humiliation at Rachel's outburst and Tina's imagination, Unique shook his head and returned his attention to the girls, "In less than an hour I'll be meeting you at your hotel. You'll be staying in the W New York Times Square—"

Rachel's mouth fell open, and she gripped onto Tina's arm, "Are you joking? That hotel is _insane!_ I've only dreamed of seeing it, let alone staying in it! That's where all the celebrities stay! It costs, like, half a million dollars per person!"

Unique scoffed as though it should have been obvious, "Vogue gets in for free. It's part of a publicity act. We stay there, they get more guests because, not to brag, but Vogue doesn't stay in any cheap motels. The only people we had to pay for were you girls and Blaine but Kurt is one of our models so he'll get everything he wants complimentary. Sorry, but if you want something, you're really going to have to impress Monsieur Stanley."

Despite the fact that Unique appeared to be using any excuse to put Rachel in her place and make it clear that she wasn't being made a princess for the next two weeks, Rachel squealed anyway, "This is amazing! This is my dream come true! If only the cast of Wicked would be staying there at the same time!"

Shrugging casually, Unique glanced at his phone again, "They might be, I don't know. I'm not interested in Broadway. As far as I know… if it hasn't been canceled… Justin Timberlake _might _be staying on your floor."

That time, all three of the girls deafeningly screamed and bounced on the seats, "No way! Oh, my gosh, this will be like celebrity heaven! I might have to take up modeling as a career."

Unique ignored them again, turning his gaze back to Kurt, "Kurt, if this shoot goes well, we're going to have a lot more projects for you. Who knows, by the end of this you could be bigger than Madonna. I've gotta check out now. I have a brief meeting with Monsieur Stanley in a half an hour then a limo to catch over to the hotel."

Kurt lifted himself up, "Are you already in New York?"

"Yeah, I got here about nine this morning. I'll see you in a bit, Kurt. I can't _wait_ for some much needed bonding time over shoe shopping and hair styling." Winking playing at Kurt, Unique clicked a button by the screen and the TV flashed white again, then returned to the soap opera and an image of a crying girl throwing a vase at her boyfriend.

Kurt withdrew his eyes from the screen, landing them on a stunned Rachel's face, "I cannot believe this is happening." She whispered to herself, fanning her face, "This is more amazing than the moment I realized I was meant to be in the spotlight."

"You mean when you were born?" Mercedes cut in, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "So, uh… Kurt, does this mean you're, like, a celebrity in France? Why don't we know about you here? The school thinks you're just another student. If we told Figgins, we'd be eating on a white table cloth every day at lunch. No more Slushies. We'd be, as they say, superstars for knowing a famous person! And I bet those football playing Neanderthals will regret every mean word they've said to you."

Kurt shook his head, "Mercedes… please, don't tell anyone. I don't think I'm a celebrity, even though a lot of the people you meet are going to refer to me that way. I'd just… rather keep this private… for now, at least. I have a feeling it would only provoke those _Neanderthals _even more _because_ modeling is kind of… feminine. And my dad would pull me out of McKinley and homeschool me if he thought I couldn't focus on my studies and was getting rioted by a paparazzi no matter what class I was in. As my friend… will you keep this a secret?"

Mercedes studied the pleading in Kurt's eyes, then sighed and lowered into her seat, "I guess so. You might be right, anyway. Our peers would be way too jealous of you and start spreading nasty rumors about you. It's how it goes every time one student is more famous than the other. And I would hate to exploit you like that."

"_Merci,_" Kurt mumbled honestly, sinking into Blaine's chest and closing his eyes. Wearied from such a chaotic morning, Kurt snuggled into his chest and sighed in relief when Blaine tightened his arms, smoothing his hair as though Kurt wasn't actually a famous model who, once he stepped off the jet and risked being mobbed all over again, could cost a company at least a quarter of a million dollars if this shoot and video fell through. To Blaine, Kurt was simply Kurt, the boy he lived with and had promised to himself to marry one day.

And to Kurt, nothing sounded better than simply curling up in Blaine's strong, protective arms and fading into a dark sleep where he wasn't famous and didn't risk being mauled down by insane fans. A place where it was only he and Blaine, the two of them against the rest of the world.

His lashes fluttered once, then came to lay against his pale cheeks for a final time. And suddenly, he discovered himself in his own little paradise, where Blaine was beckoning for him to follow with a bright smile on his face, so Kurt swiftly did and burst into joyful laughter, free from the tainted, homophobic, judging people who always haunted Kurt right on his heels. Even if they weren't mocking him physically, he knew they were always there, hiding in the shadows and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Alone with Blaine, all of that disappeared.

* * *

"Kurt!" a familiar voice shouted from outside of the stretch limo parking itself behind the two other limos in the _reserved_ section two feet away from the bouncing skyscraper lively dancing to its own beat, neon lights cascading over the normally plain walls of their billion dollar hotel. Kurt, who leaned over in his seat to collect his sleeping bird from his cage while Blaine pinched the ear pieces of Kurt's sunglasses and slipped them off, pocketing them in his jeans then carefully removing Kurt's hat in fear of messing up his coiffed-around-the-hat hair he'd spent nearly the entire limo ride adjusting in bitter annoyance at the tacky, cheap baseball hat labeled to a team that he couldn't recall, blinked at his name being called in a thick French accent.

Not waiting two seconds for their driver to commit to his job and stroll around the limo to pop Kurt's door professionally and escort him safely inside in case of undercover paparazzi dying for any scandalous, out-of-perspective picture they might get one hundred bucks for, a boy no taller than Rachel's short stature and about twice as wide as Rachel, threw open the door. "Kurt!" the boy screamed in awe, causing Blaine to swiftly jump forward in case this boy happened to be a psychotic stalker ready to rip any clothing—or hair—off of Kurt that he could and sell for it for a buck on eBay. Suddenly, though, Kurt slipped from Blaine's protective hold and leapt out of the car, mauling the much shorter boy down. Despite the fact that Kurt had him with about eight inches, the shorter boy bent backwards and lifted Kurt off his feet as though he weighed no more than a paperweight.

"Unique!" Kurt shrieked in giggles, kicking his feet until the dark skinned boy set him safely on the ground. "Oh, my gosh, I've missed you more than anything!"

Blaine's entire spine stiffened, hard brackets digging into the corners of his mouth, only more to match the cold calculations forming in his usual fiery, golden eyes. Swallowing down an abrupt dry spell in his scratchy throat, Blaine considered his past alliance with Unique. He waited until the squealing girls stepped out onto the foreign ground, what felt like thousands of people passing by in outrageous, exotic, exposing costumes and bright, flamboyant colors passing by, waiting to suck them into the crowd. One thing Blaine knew for sure was that he didn't belong here; he glanced down at his baggy, gray sweatshirt and dark wash jeans with black, DC shoes and cleared his throat with the discomfort of being so out of place. This look belonged to McKinley High. Times Square? No.

Through the mobs of people he caught flashes of the girls, each dressed to their best in brand names like Chanel, Miu Miu and Tiffany—even Rachel, who needed to be on a twelve-step program for her addiction to moose featuring sweaters. Sure, Kurt had used his Christmas money from his aunt to treat them all to a shopping trip before the trip and recycled some of the clothes he couldn't afford to exchange for a more expensive, brand name version by hosting an arts and craft day and doing everything he could to better their clothing to make it look runway, but… they still belonged on the busy, spectacular street much more than Blaine did. At home, he looked normal. Here… he looked homeless, and sympathized with homeless men who received more pity looks than they could count with every hair on their heads within a day, as he was sure to get some of those by the end of this trip.

He didn't know what was worse about it, actually being dressed this way with no escape in front of all of these million dollar people with ash tray sized rings dabbed onto their fingers and plastic faces or comparing to Kurt's apparent best friend who had dressed almost identically to Kurt, only a brighter, more bold version with explosive colors rather than Kurt's professional gray-and-white scheme he'd thrown together out of being proud to wear the outfit Blaine had bought him for Christmas. Part of Blaine wanted to feel joyous that Kurt loved the outfit so much he felt capable of wearing it to its best in front of the man who could make or break his future, but another part wanted to feel so guilty, in fear that Kurt was wearing the damned thing _just_ to make Blaine happy, not that he didn't look good in it.

Actually, Kurt looked stunning, to be honest. After changing in the jet's bathroom into his new outfit he claimed less dusty from the trip, the outfit was snug enough to his body to enhance his already majorly turn-on curves and the clashing gray and white drawing out his best skin tones, the flawless ivory and his perfect flushes and the sparkle in his gorgeous, round, blue eyes.

Which made it all the more easy to want to strangle his newest enemy, Unique, for draping an arm casually around a giggling Kurt, who studied Unique and whatever he was joking about a little too deeply. At last inhaling the courage to slip a foot out of the limo, taking Pavarotti's cage with him, Blaine eyed the next crowd of people marching toward him, ready to mull him over, and he swiftly darted out and crossed to where Kurt, Unique and the girls chatted, the girls in their own corner posing and kissing on a life size Orlando Bloom cutout. Rolling his eyes at their childish behavior, Blaine approached Kurt and Unique instead and bit down a nasty comment that would most likely earn him a night of sleeping on the couch if he ripped it into Unique's mind that _he_ had Kurt's love life perfectly under control and didn't need any help.

Instead he forced himself to outstretch his hand once he'd gained Unique's attention and was instantly met with a warm, firm grasp, the fingers slightly calloused from what Blaine assumed might belong to the fact that he was rubbing his fingers over all dress materials—rough and smooth—for a living and he probably never moisturized. _Holy shit, Kurt is starting to wear on me,_ Blaine snapped to himself, considering he'd never focused so deeply on the roughness of a man's hands before then wondered how much moisturizer—if any—they used. Clearing his mind of those thoughts, Blaine worked a smile onto his lips as Unique shook his hand with a bright smile, "Oh, my goodness, you're dreamier in person. Kurt, you've done amazing work for yourself! Not that I ever doubted you. You look phenomenal."

Suddenly, all cynicism in Blaine's mind washed away with the tears of relief pinching at the backs of his eyes. _He's not trying to steal Kurt,_ Blaine told himself, a genuine smile creeping to his lips, _He might be gay but I was right all along, they're more brothers than anything._ Blaine finally shook Unique's hand without trying to squeeze it off, then released and immediately touched his hand to Kurt's waist; Kurt, in return, helplessly smiled and nuzzled up beside Blaine, purring into his shoulder, "Isn't he as amazing as I told you, Unique? He's the one who got me Pavarotti."

While Blaine's heart shuddered at the thought of Kurt gossiping with old friends of how _amazing _he was, Unique clapped his hands and directed his gaze toward Blaine, "Oh, a good taste in boys _and_ birds! Kurt, I knew you would find someone like him." Cupping his hand over the side of his mouth closest to Blaine yet speaking in a whisper-shout clearer to Blaine than the fact that he was well prepared to have some really good, honeymoon-suite worthy sex with Kurt tonight for his gossiping of Blaine's best features, Unique leaned slightly into Kurt, "If he could get you pregnant—which, anything is possible… I hope—your children would be dreams and hunted after for the cover of every magazine within the entire earth's surface. Kurt, he is _gorgeous!_ Where on earth did you find a man like him? I want to get me one."

Kurt giggled demurely, his cheeks brightening to a pretty strawberry shade, "_Unique._ If you must know, we go to school together. It was only by chance that we met, and I've never regretted that we did—" When a camera flash temporarily blinded Kurt and he blinked, Unique shuffled around to meet the eye of a kneeling photographer prepared for another picture of Kurt, and Blaine slightly pushed Kurt behind him.

"Kurt! Unique!" a man behind the up-front photographer shouted, and before they could stop it another flash lighted up the sky, and Kurt wiped away the spots in his eyes. "Kurt, over here, gorgeous! Can you give us a few comments on how you feel about being back in the modeling business?"

"Damn," Unique muttered, holding out his hand toward the paparazzi, "I swear, it's constant! Let's get inside before they herd. Ignore them and keep your eyes down. Oh, and… get your modeling friends."

Another of the paparazzi bravely approached them with a microphone, "Unique, what future clothing designs do you have planned for Monsieur Hummel and are you two working together on any pieces—?"

One of them moved in on Kurt's left side, so close Kurt briefly felt his breath on his neck until a hurried shopper hunting down a sale knocked into the man, bumping him into Kurt who nearly dropped a twittering, distressed Pavarotti who fluttered each time another camera flash jolted his eyesight. Sensing Kurt's struggle, Blaine easily took charge by slipping Pavarotti into the pocket on the front of his sweatshirt and looping Kurt under his wing, guarding him from the flashing lights. With a quick shout above the raucous to Rachel, Tina and Mercedes who appeared to be living it up in the limelight by posing for the cameras and lying through their teeth that they were Kurt's new assistants just for more chances at future fame, Blaine used his suddenly famous football skills to pile through the crowd, keeping Kurt tucked tight in his arm and Unique right on his heels.

The vicious crowd vomited them out at the hotel doors, allowing Blaine the chance to push Kurt through the doors and into safety, where what appeared to be a hotel manager waiting for them at the center of the lobby waved them down. Swiftly glancing over his shoulder first to assure the girls—although devastated that Blaine had intruded on their fifteen minutes of fame and magazine time—were right behind them, Blaine peeled Kurt off of him first and smoothed his bedraggled hair to assure that he was okay. Once Kurt retrieved his tiny but feisty bird back who had a mouthful of bitter chirps to scream out about the crowd manhandling him, Blaine glanced over his shoulder at Unique who whistled impressively.

"That was better work than a body guard," Unique placed his hands on his hips, "Defense?"

Kurt blinked at Unique blankly, yet Blaine instantly understood the question, "I started out defense. Upgraded to quarterback. I'm done with all of that now. I had more _important_ concerns." Assuring that Kurt comprehended that Blaine meant him by gazing relentlessly into Kurt's blue eyes, Blaine lifted his eyes again as the middle aged manager approached them.

Linking his fingers together, he bowed politely in Kurt's direction, then in Unique's, "Welcome, Monsieur Hummel and Monsieur Unique. I am so sorry about that mishap outside. Rest assured the paparazzi is being taken care of. I'm sending my finest bodyguards out now to perimeter the hotel the entire night and you should be perfectly safe for the rest of the night. We're grateful that your fashion line has chosen to stay here—"

Unique held out his hand to stop the man from continuing, "Don't waste your time, we don't need the spectacular entrances. Vogue emailed me with everything about the hotel and I've already got the keys, so go on with your business. I'll take it from here."

Startled by Unique's bluntness, the manager scoffed yet stepped back, anyway, "Of course, Monsieur Unique. If there is absolutely anything you need, don't hesitate to call room service or the desk. We're always working. Monsieur Hummel, the same to you. Also, your fashion line insisted this gets delivered to you as a welcome-back to the modeling business." Pulling out a single rose, the manager handed it over to Kurt who cooed over it and playfully tickled the blossoms over Pavarotti's tiny face, the bird twittering and nipping at the gorgeous gift.

"It's so lovely," Kurt whispered gratefully, "_Merci_ for your kindness. I'll try not to be a bother these next two weeks."

The man, despite Blaine's doubt that he might be gay for the lack of interest he had the same way most, even the closeted men, had for Kurt, flushed a deep scarlet, hinting that Blaine's doubts were all wrong. "Absolutely, Monsieur Hummel. If it's not out of place for me to say this, I will comment that your fashion company was in the right place while searching for a model."

Blaine's doubts flew out a window, and Kurt managed a meek smile to show flattery. "_Merci,_ I'm grateful."

Still sticking to his plan of whisking Kurt through their door, pinning him to a bed and nailing him to it so hard Kurt could hardly walk for a walk—similar to when Kurt had first lost his virginity, Blaine nudged Unique who blinked from his trance and glimpsed at Kurt who uncomfortably focused in on teasing his bird with the flower, then to the love-struck manager who was about two seconds from swooning at the beautiful French model's sweet aura. Unique finally cleared his throat, "We should get to our rooms now. Best to avoid the paparazzi—" Unique added a mutter under his breath, "—and a man riot over the French babe."

Blaine couldn't help smirking, for the first time realizing just how lusted after Kurt was after men internationally, and how Blaine was the only one in the world who would be grinding in and out of the gorgeous _French babe_ within the hour. Following a confidently striding Unique to an elevator, Blaine checked for the girls again despite his inner urging to simply leave them somewhere and hope they got lost and never returned to McKinley High. But that was just cruel wishing, like one of those birthday wishes a kid's parents promise him will come true by his next birthday, but no matter how many times he wishes for a pony, the best he gets is a plastic one with batteries installed in its arse that make its eyes open and close and neighing sounds to come from between his plastic teeth.

Unique snapped his fingers, alerting Blaine, Kurt and the girls to follow faster with the manager's eyes staring longingly after Kurt's heels as he nearly pushed an older woman off the elevator, replacing her spot in the roomy box that probably cost just as much to decorate as Blaine's entire old bedroom. Once the girls had loaded themselves on and Blaine slid his arms over Kurt's shoulders from behind, resting his chin in the crease of his elbow and Pavarotti busied himself nipping at the intruding fingers, Unique whipped out an envelope and read each key aloud, "Okay… here is the balcony room key," he handed it to Rachel, who intercepted it greedily, "All of you girls are staying in one room, so no cat fights because I'm _not_ calling my company to change that. And… the honeymoon suite." He handed that key to Blaine, who swore that his dark tan brightened about twenty thousand watts to a deep cherry.

Swiftly glancing toward the giggling and whispering girls at that last, Blaine cleared his throat, "Unique… A-Are you joking?" As to not offend Kurt yet to make it clear to the girls that he wasn't out, he murmured, "Kurt's dad will kill me if he finds out we stayed there. Kurt and I aren't honeymooning and those rooms are tacky—it's pretty much a confirmation that _someone _has had sex on the bed."

Unique rolled his eyes with a sigh, "Blaine, _all_ of these beds have someone's sexy juices embedded into the seams. The honeymoon suite is just a room labeled that way so honeymooners can get discounts. Besides, I'll be staying in your room with you!"

More horror flashed through the very existence of Blaine's soul. It wasn't that he didn't want to have sex with Kurt in a romantically themed room for the next two weeks; he couldn't have wanted that more. But he knew that if Rachel hadn't changed any since he'd last seen her—which he doubted, she'd be blabbing that Blaine was out and proud through text message within the next twelve hours and that would change _everything_—including his relationship with Kurt, which he liked the way it was. But then again, nor did he want someone else invading on his alone time with Kurt, which would most likely not be happening anywhere other than the bedroom. If Blaine's assumptions were correct, he'd either be swarmed by paparazzi, tailors or Dakota Stanley—none of which seemed that sexy to him, not that he could ever get away with telling Stanley that.

Waiting until the doors dinged open on the twenty fourth floor, Unique stepped out and shot Blaine a teasing grin, "Blaine, I'm totally kidding. I remember my first relationship and would have hated the boy who stepped out of the lines to stay in the same hotel room as me and my cutie. I'll be staying across the hall." He waved his hand through the air to clear it, even though to Blaine it was already bursting at the seams as the girls giggled into their palms about Unique mistaking Kurt and Blaine for a couple _then_ adding on to that by putting them into a honeymoon suite. "I plan on getting those keys copied so each of you have individual copies of _your_ key," he glared at the girls, assuming they'd want to run between the rooms on a visiting spree, "Here are some ground rules and limitations. Basically, anything Kurt is doing, you can get into without a reservation if it's at the same time but you'll have to pay for it, which… he won't. In short… if you arrive with him and leave with him, you're golden. If he's already there twenty minutes before you, it might take some bargaining to get in and you _have _to leave at the same time—there's only one condition out of that—as long as you pay for yourself whatever you're doing is yours to finish. If you tell them you're going to pay later, you have to leave with him whenever he says so but still have to pay the full amount. Understand?"

The girls bobbed their heads but Blaine hardly listened, his attention captivated by the shape of Kurt's hips inside the sweater and how badly he wanted to suck a hickey onto them—"_Blaine._" Unique snapped, "My face is up here. Now isn't a good time to check Kurt out." When Blaine lifted his head and sardonically cocked his brows while Kurt flushed and eyed Blaine as though to question if that were true—as if he had to ask, Unique continued, "Okay, then… Kurt, we've scheduled you for a spa treatment tomorrow at…" he checked his envelope, which must have had notes scribbled on it, "nine in the morning. A good stress reliever before we meet Monsieur Stanley."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably, "I…" he flicked his eyes to Blaine briefly, "I don't think I feel comfortable… being so exposed in front of a masseuse."

"Ooh!" Rachel lunged forward, "I'll take his appointment if he doesn't want it!"

"No, no," Unique waved her off with a scoff, "Kurt, I know you better than that. I didn't schedule you for _that_ part of it. You'll just be alone in a steam room. I know how you are about exposing yourself with people. Heck, I've never even seen you with your shirt off." Shaking his head, Unique glanced at his list again, "Anyway… You all do have room service coming up with an all-you-can-eat buffet dinner—" He seemed to sense Rachel's raising finger, because he batted at its general area, "Finger down, Miss Berry. This one is on the company because you all probably haven't eaten since the jet."

"Actually," Mercedes snorted, "_I_ haven't even since breakfast. Our flight had these freaky attendants on it who otherwise were paparazzi in disguise. We didn't want any reason to call them over so we starved. Now, does this all-you-can-eat buffet include any desserts? Because I'm feeling a warm, fluffy muffin at the moment."

Despite Kurt's knowledge of what Blaine wanted to do to him for the entire night, Kurt's stomach embarrassingly tightened on itself and gurgled lowly, so he quickly wrapped his arms around himself to hide it from Blaine, who would most likely be turned off by his stomach growling and gurgling. Pavarotti, who must have heard it, cocked his head at Kurt's stomach and twittered in confusion at what other animal might be hiding in Kurt's stomach.

Blaine suddenly pinched down on the nape of Kurt's neck, his fingers gently kneading, and his lips brushed the shell of Kurt's ear, "Uncross your arms," he circled the pads of his fingers over Kurt's elbow until the tension released and he lowered his arms to his side, and Blaine stroked his fingertips over Kurt's smooth stomach, "I like the idea of you being hungry. You never are—or you force yourself not to be."

Kurt flushed, leaning back into Blaine as Unique continued droning on about whatever it was he found important enough to drone about, and he whispered back to Blaine, "You can't honestly find my stomach growling and the thought of me eating _adorable_ or something."

"Actually, I find it really sexy," Blaine tongue poked at the shell of Kurt's ear, deafening him momentarily, "All I can think about right now is you spreading food onto my body then licking it all off. It's a huge turn-on." To confirm his thoughts Blaine pressed his hips into Kurt's buttocks, forcing his hard-on to wedge up against his tight skinnies, cradled between his ass cheeks. "Do you have any idea how big of a turn-on you are for me?"

Kurt's stomach tightened again, this time he doubted from the lack of food in his body, "I can imagine," he whispered, pushing his arse further back into Blaine's hips and biting down a whimper at Blaine's steel rod, warming the crotch of his jeans, slipping onto his right ass cheek—

"Kurt, Blaine," Unique snapped with a sigh, "Did either of you hear a _word_ I just said?"

Blinking innocently at Unique, Kurt lightly shook his head so Unique groaned and stepped back, "Okay, just have _them_ explain everything. Kurt, I do want you to know that I've warned the entire staff here that if they see you wandering off alone they're going to take you right back to wherever one of us is and that they have special orders _never_ to let you go outside alone… or with the girls." His eyes shot to Blaine's face, "Just… keep him with you, alright? Okay, I've gotta go answer my emails so… the pool is on the bottom level, along with the café. There's a restroom at the other end of the hall, along with a vending machine. If you need anything, call someone or come get me. Kurt… I expect beauty sleep tonight. If that doesn't happen, I _will_ separate you two."

At last, Unique sighed explosively and moved to wind his arms around Kurt, "It's such a relief working with you again. I about went insane at Vogue without you. You seem to be the only normal one there." He peeled away from them, then spat out one last tip, "The breakfast café opens at eight and closes at eleven. You're going to need your energy tomorrow so I'd definitely advise getting up in time for a good meal and a complete makeover. At Vogue, if you're not dressing for the impressing, they're _going _to kick you out. We're leaving at one-ish tomorrow. Goodnight, all of you. No staying up or goofing off because I'll know."

He waved over his shoulder at them, slipping into the room behind him and shutting the door back before anyone could make another sound. Seconds after he was gone, Rachel launched into a plan for the girls, "Okay, we'll eat dinner, and then we're going to go down and raid the café of all of its junk food and pig out to old Broadway shows playing on TV. Kurt, Blaine, we'd offer to visit you but we, uh… wouldn't want to intrude or interrupt you honeymooners." She winked at the girls then giggled lightly, but Blaine found no amusement in her joke and clamped down on her wrist before she could frolic off.

"Rachel, I don't want to hear one word out of you tonight." He snapped, "I don't give a damn if you run around the hotel because hopefully they'll end up kicking you out but if you mess with Kurt and I tonight, it'll be the last time you ever mess with anything. Kurt needs to rest; he has a lot coming at him tomorrow."

Rachel snorted, drawing her wrist out of Blaine's hand, "Who put you in charge, Mr. Not-allowed-to-have-fun?"

That time Kurt stepped in, his patience for Rachel and her bitter comments at Blaine wearing at him, "Rachel, please. _I_ put Blaine in charge, so please respect him. Blaine has as much control over this trip as I do and if he decides to have you sent home early because you've crossed the line with him… I won't do anything about it. I'm going to bed now. Blaine, are you coming?"

Admiring Kurt all anew for finally sticking Rachel in her place, Blaine shrugged off the girls' drop-jawed expressions and followed Kurt to their door. He wedged their key card into their suite and waited for the light to flash green before abruptly sweeping a gasping Kurt off of his feet and pushing down on the handle. The lights flicked on at their entry, and suddenly all thoughts of honeymooning rooms being tacky or just a label swept out of his mind. _This is nothing like the movies,_ he thought as he carried Kurt into the vanilla coated room, the burning essence of the Valentine red candles casting a romantic, fiery glow in each corner of the room.

The door abruptly clicked shut behind them, reminding them that they hadn't quite vanished off to a fantasy world one of them had dreamt up during a sexy dream. A rosy tint about the room, marred only by the cream, fuzzy carpets obviously installed from someone suing when their bedroom activities got too… carried away… and someone had smacked a shoulder on hardwood floors, shed a cozy warmth about the otherwise classy room. Despite the blood red walls, the bed was dressed in a violet bedspread with at least ten pillows in a pattern of purple and white residing at the top. Their bed had already been heated by the very warmth in the room plus a bed warming kit stored under the bed.

Two closets, a half of one for Blaine and one and a half for Kurt, with the included space of a single, rose tinted dresser, provided storage space, while a steaming Jacuzzi in the corner, underneath a blurred, washed out painting of a flower, fizzed and crackled temptingly. Blaine allowed Kurt to slide to his feet in favor of heading over to a closed, rose hued curtain and drew it aside, revealing a wall sized window of Broadway Street, the lights on every building still flashing and restaurants and clubs alternating every five, sentimental buildings dedicated to various shows bounced to the beat of drunken music amateurs paid big bucks in order to play in front of the crowds.

From behind him, Kurt released a soft sound of awe so he whipped around and caught his lover with one shoe and sock on the floor, his toe dipping into the Jacuzzi while Pavarotti huddled down in Kurt's palms, terrified of the thought of being dropped into the water. "Blaine, this water feels amazing! This room is perfect!"

Blaine smirked at Kurt, "I'll get in with you in a minute. I'd rather wait until the people delivering our food and luggage leave before you start taking your clothes off." Setting Pavarotti's cage down on the dresser, Blaine padded into another open-door room and, once more, the lights flicked on at his presence. He spotted a glass shower in the corner and two sinks lined up against the wall, both of which he knew well and good would belong to Kurt by the end of the trip just because Kurt would never be able to fit his bathroom necessities into one cramped up corner of a bathroom. Checking briefly that their other bathroom needs were accounted for, Blaine spun on his heel and returned to the main room where Kurt was allowing Pavarotti to have his first encounter with water.

Knelt down by the rim of the Jacuzzi, he cupped Pavarotti in his hand and held the twittering bird just over the surface of the water. Curiously Pavarotti jabbed one of his talons into the water, then swiftly removed it with a noisy chirp as he fluffed up his feathers in distaste. Shaking off the water in one quick, spastic movement then flattening out his feathers again, Pavarotti's beady eyes focused in on Kurt and he chirped out what sounded like a plea. Kurt lifted him back up, smoothing a finger down Pavarotti's back.

Blaine opened his mouth to comment that he doubted Pavarotti's floatability in water when an abrupt knock on the door startled Kurt into nearly dropping Pavarotti right into the pool. He swiftly drew his bird back against his chest, rising to his feet just as Blaine passed him by and opened the door to find at least five men staring back at him, two with three massive trays of engulfing, mouthwatering, enriching food in their hands and the other three carrying luggage down the hallway.

Kurt hopped up to the place directly behind Blaine, then shimmied past and groped one of his white suitcases into his arms, "The white ones are all mine, and that black one is Blaine's. _Merci._" He rolled it back into the room with Pavarotti perched on his shoulder, still nibbling at his damp foot, while Blaine accepted one of the trays and fished through his wallet for a tip. He passed the tray over to Kurt with a command to take it to the dresser, then scooped up the rest of his and Kurt's bags and waited until the men ventured next door to the girls' room to kick the door shut behind him.

Swinging back around, Blaine unloaded the luggage at the end of the bed and strode around it as Kurt lifted himself onto the mattress, watching Blaine lift the cover off the tray and reveal at least twelve pounds worth of food—to the human body eating it; the actual food probably weighed twenty at most. "Damn," he whispered in awe, "For this being all-you-can-eat this could feed ten people!"

Kurt giggled helplessly, resting his cheek against his palm as Blaine lifted one of the ceramic plates and spooned some of Kurt's favorites—or the favorites he could fit onto that plate—onto it, including a biscuit, a bit of salad, what he thought might be a croissant filled with raspberry jelly, and anything else along those lines. Handing the plate over to Kurt, who murmured a kind word of thanks in French and forked through his salad to mix in the fat-free dressing Blaine thought tasted like a mix of sweet and sour sauce, Blaine piled on his own plate featuring the more fatty foods he knew for a fact that Kurt wouldn't eat even if they were promised to be the best tasting foods on the planet. Lifting another cover on a plate, Blaine noticed a hunk of white cake painted in chocolate icing with tiny chocolate chips melted within.

He capped the lid over that again, saving it for the best moment to strike. Returning to the bed beside of Kurt, Blaine tossed himself down mere inches from Kurt, careful not to spill their glasses of sparkling grape juices he brought back with him as he handed one over to Kurt then slipped his fingers through Kurt's, "_I_ would like to make a toast," Blaine announced dramatically, hooking his leg over Kurt's and dragging him closer as Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Would you?" Kurt whispered, nuzzling his face so close to Blaine's their eyelashes nearly brushed. "What about? I've never seen you for the toasting type."

Blaine smirked and stroked his thumb over Kurt's shoulder, peeling the clothing off of the skin and baring it. Pavarotti, who had perched on the side of Kurt's forearm, twittered at the bunched up cloth and nipped at it, then settled back down again. "Are you kidding? I get hired at _weddings _just to do toasts. Now let me finish, brat. I'm making this toast to my beautiful, gorgeous model boyfriend who's about to have two weeks in hell from stress and a shitty manager. So… I vote we make the most of tonight."

Kurt giggled and pressed his lips against Blaine's, appreciating just the pressure of their mouths brushing together, "Normally I'd say that I couldn't agree more, but I'm not sure what this is going to cost me. Go ahead, finish me off with whatever brutal thing you're about to say."

"You know me too well," Blaine snorted, nodding his head toward the tray again, "I found cake and I'm expecting you to eat it."

Widening his eyes, Kurt suddenly ducked his head into the pillows and kicked his feet, "You cannot make me do anything, Blaine Anderson! I am _not _eating that cake. Do you realize that I gained two pounds just from eating a piece of that pound cake over Christmas? Monsieur Stanley has been begging me to lose five pounds! If I eat that cake, I'll have to lose ten and he will _not_ be pleased with you for suggesting such a horrid idea!"

Blaine chuckled while rubbing soothing circles onto Kurt's back, "Who gives a damn if Stanley wants you to look like a twig? He can be pissed at me all he wants for making you eat a piece of cake. _I _think you look sexy. I knew that you would fight me on this so I came prepared with a deal."

Kurt's head slightly lifted, his eyes narrowed cynically, "What is it?"

Slipping his fingers under Kurt's chin, Blaine nudged his face up higher, "If you eat one bite of that cake, I'll make this the best sex night of your life. Anything you want, however and whenever you want it."

He ducked his head demurely, hiding behind a bite of pickled beets. Just as Kurt dropped the beets into his mouth, Blaine ducked his head down and swept his tongue across Kurt's rosebud lips. The sweet taste of the beets' juices soaked into his tongue. "What if the move is too… risqué?"

Blaine laughed at that, brushing his finger over Kurt's nose, "Sweetheart, _nothing_ you're going to want will be too risqué. The only moves you know are the ones we've done before. I'll be okay with everything except using toys, going to an orgy or having anything more than a twosome. Oh, and no role-play. I like the thought of making love to _you_… not someone else. Foreplay is good, though. I could appreciate foreplay."

"Could you?" Kurt whispered, rolling on top of his lover and abandoning his suddenly unappetizing and less than filling dinner. Pavarotti hopped off of Kurt and twittered, lowering himself into the nest of blankets. Eyeing Blaine's warm, cracked lips longingly, Kurt peeled his upper body off of Blaine and pressed a kiss into the hollow of his throat, causing Blaine to shudder beneath him. "There is something we haven't tried before, Blaine." He nodded toward the gurgling Jacuzzi. "Skinny dipping. We've showered together but it isn't the same. In France skinny dipping is common, especially around night when no one's out, because there are so many lakes. I've never skinny dipped before, though."

Blaine eyed Kurt as Kurt wriggled off the bed, attempting not to crush a sleeping Pavarotti, his heart pounding at the thought of holding a naked and slippery Kurt on his lap, his round buttocks pressing down onto Blaine's steel rod, and Blaine grinding in and out of Kurt while trying not to splash the carpets with water. Now that he thought about, skinny dipping didn't sound half bad.

Laying himself back on the pillows, Blaine studied Kurt as he pinched his fingers over the button on his skinnies and popped it free, his back slightly angled toward Blaine to block him out. Despite Kurt's will to pose himself as sexily as possible by removing his own clothes in front of Blaine like a show, a tiny part of him would always remain the innocent virgin Blaine remembered from two months ago. Not that he really minded. Tucking his hair behind his ear, Blaine watched from afar as Kurt shimmied his skinnies down his slender, pale legs to the floor, where he kicked his feet until they flew off. Working around his spankies, Kurt tugged at the hem of his knee-length sweater and pulled it over his chest, revealing a white torso underneath with a smooth stomach and pointy hipbones. At last, he glanced back over at Blaine and scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, but Blaine simply nodded his head toward the left. Kurt replied by padding back across the floor toward the bed, and Blaine shifted around so he could snatch up the plate smothered in cake.

"Our deal," Blaine reminded him, casually crossing his ankles to show Kurt that despite his killer body and what it did to Blaine's brain he couldn't wriggle his way out from under this bargain. Instantly wincing at the tightened pressure at his embalmed groin, Blaine uncrossed his legs.

Kurt, not to be pinned down, whispered his own side of the deal, "I won't eat it." Startled by Kurt's ability to abandon a night of sex so easily, Blaine parted his lips just as Kurt dipped his finger into the icing then rubbed it across Blaine's bottom lip. Climbing back onto the bed on his knees, Kurt lowered his head down and blew out warm air on Blaine's parted mouth. He then jabbed the point of his tongue out and scraped it across Blaine's lips, the dark icing painting his pink tongue a deep tan. "Unless it's on your skin. Do you want me to spread it… or should you?"

Blaine's heart dropped to the lower of his stomach, his pupils blowing out of proportion to the sizes of nickels, "Are you _fucking _kidding me?" Within two seconds Blaine tore out of his sweatshirt, throwing it aside aimlessly and he fumbled with the waist of his jeans, so used to simply writhing a pair of sweatpants down his legs that tears sprang to his eyes, his fingers practically clawing the button off. Kurt quietly reached for Blaine's hands and dragged them up his stomach to his chest. Silently he bent his head over Blaine's crotch, his teeth biting down on the penny-rust-tasting button and he poked his tongue at the edge of it, plying it around until it popped free. He nipped down on the zipper and tugged that down to the bottom of Blaine's crotch, then he slithered his hands up Blaine's stomach and lay with his body half on top of Blaine's, the tips of their noses brushing.

"Spread it in all your favorite places," Kurt whispered in his ear, rolling to the side and hopping off the bed again. Without a single, tempted look over his shoulder Kurt strolled as though it was a simple day in the park back over to the Jacuzzi and with as little care as he could summon he inched his spankies down his hips. Dipping his toe in the water testily, Kurt carefully set his foot all the way down at the rubbery bottom, where a gel-like material coated the hard plastic of the Jacuzzi. He submerged his other foot in the earth-shatteringly good, bubbling water, the jets nailing Kurt's shins and ankles, and the gel molding around the high arch of his foot and heating up with a heater installed in the bottom that activated at the human touch. A helpless moan scathed from his lips by accident, drawing another swear out of Blaine's lips from the bed, the sound of stiff jean material brushing his legs overriding the fizzing bubbles.

Kurt lowered himself onto the gel-padded seats and more jets nailed him straight in the back, but this time he caught the whimper on his tongue and swallowed it back. He wanted to turn Blaine on, not torture him. Promising himself that he wouldn't turn around to see Blaine's progress, Kurt took a moment to wonder what this cake might do to his hips, and while Monsieur Stanley ratted him out would he be thinking of this moment? Realizing that thinking of his future boss minutes before having sex with his one true love _so_ wasn't helping the moment, Kurt sank deeper into the water and flexed his feet, his heel digging into the heated gel. Suddenly hearing bed springs creak behind him, Kurt lowered his shoulders and gasped when a pair of hands crushed over the sides of his neck from behind, a pair of strong thumbs digging into a sore place between his shoulder blades.

"Spread your legs," Blaine demanded darkly, pressing deeper. Kurt panted and reached for Blaine's hands to stop him, just because he didn't think he could handle a massage without releasing too early, and he numbly did as he was told. "Now lean forward." Kurt dug his fingers into Blaine's knuckles, folding himself over and closing his eyes in awe of what was about to happen to him. Abruptly a goo coated muscle jabbed into Kurt's spine, the balmy pressure about ten degrees too warm to be comfortable and far too slimy. Blaine, as though Kurt totally wasn't on the brink of exploding, peeled the weight off of him and replaced it with the tip, drawing lines with it on Kurt's back, where his ribs pressed against his spine, all the way down to the line of water crossing Kurt's hips, to the base of his neck. "You like this," Blaine noted, dropping the length again. "Stop biting your cheek, I want to hear you make those sexy little sounds."

Kurt drew his teeth out of where they'd practically bit a hole in his cheek, a sigh escaping his lips. Helpless to Blaine's overpowering vixen grinding against him, Kurt wriggled anxiously and died to spin his head around to eye what _favorite _parts Blaine had of himself. The curiosity was ready to drive him insane if he didn't find out. "Blaine…" Kurt shuddered, his breath sweeping out of his lungs, "Blaine, please, I can't take this anymore…" He licked his dry lips, a lump the size of a quarter chaffing the walls of his throat. "Please… Please… Blaine, I can't—"

"Then turn around," Blaine urged, his controlling tone softening and his fingers lightly trailing a path through Kurt's bedraggled hair down to his shoulder blades, where prickles emerged at Blaine's fiery, cool fingertips. "Take me however you want."

Nearly screaming with the relief of the exiting tension in his body, Kurt whipped around on his seat and felt Blaine's hands cup his back to assure he didn't fall backwards, and his eyes careened the front of Blaine. Starting at the inners of his thighs, chocolate glopped over his thighs and coated the sac hanging under his darkened shaft, ending where a tuff of hair tangled at his abdomen. Blaine's chest and nipples, also smeared in the glop, were the only other visible places coated in chocolate on his front, so Kurt lightly ran his tongue across his bottom lip and whispered, "Turn around… please."

Blaine turned without a single hesitation, yet nothing about chocolate glop appeared on his backside. Kurt's throat almost swelled with disappointment and how much he had actually wanted Blaine to coat his ass. He wasn't sure why exactly, but remembered all the times Blaine had rimmed him and Kurt squirmed just at the memory of how good it felt. Was Blaine too humiliated to allow Kurt to lick between his ass cheeks? Was there something about Kurt that turned him off when it came to his ass? Had he messed up that one time so long ago Blaine actually bent his rigid spine and allowed Kurt to top?

Or was it something else? He didn't seem to mind being exposed, so what could possibly be hindering Blaine from giving Kurt that freedom with rimming or crowning or even all-the-way sex?

Before he could let his thoughts carry him away Blaine whipped back around and as though he'd had a sudden craving for Kurt's mouth he bent over himself and cupped his hands over Kurt's cheeks. Tilting his head up, Blaine crushed his mouth over Kurt's almost violently, his lips sucking Kurt's top lip between his. He slid his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and jabbed it down into Kurt's mouth, the sweet taste of chocolate overwhelming Kurt's sensations. Loosening his tightened fists, Kurt clenched down on Blaine's hips and tugged him as close as the separating wall between them would allow without Blaine falling face first into the Jacuzzi. Blaine's skillful tongue stroked the roof of Kurt's mouth expertly, Kurt's thoughts, worries, dreads, insecurities, all of them whisking out a window into the breeze. He dipped his tongue down against Kurt, the two battling for dominance. Sucking sounds filled the air, distracting Kurt from the hum of the Jacuzzi and the massaging bubbles scraping his shins.

Blaine abruptly tore his mouth off with a growl, his face a dark shade of rose and his teeth bared, "I'm so turned on right now," he admitted, pinching Kurt's chin in his hand. "Have your way with me. I want to feel your tongue on my body. Make me come, Kurt."

Kurt whimpered and chose to daringly slide his hands to Blaine's muscular ass, his fingers peeling apart the cheeks. Boldly he scraped his baby finger over the crease within, his finger brushing the puckered entrance. He scraped over it several times and watched Blaine's knees buck, then he ran his drying tongue over his lips one last time and covered Blaine's groin with his mouth. An explosion of salt, pre-cum, chocolate and male startled him into nearly drawing off, the different flavors shocking him. He slid his lips around Blaine's tip, the purple nub dribbling pre-cum through the mass coat of chocolate.

Finger continuing the scrape at Blaine's puckered hole, Kurt lapped his tongue over the back of Blaine's sensitive, steel cock and swallowed down another two inches. He worked his tongue over the tip again then stroked the ring around the tip, his mouth suckling once to force the thick chocolate down his throat. He tugged the tip again, his lips groping towards the middle of the base and he lapped away a path of chocolate, exposing the dark, Filipino tan underneath.

Blaine's fingers dug into Kurt's messy head of hair and he pushed him deeper onto the cock, until Kurt's gag reflex triggered and he was forced to spit around the cock. A burning aftertaste of pre-cum and chocolate left a bitter taste in his mouth, so he suckled to replace the taste with a fresh, sweet aroma of the chocolate still remaining on Blaine's fully aroused eleven inches. The heat of the Jacuzzi burned his already achingly hot skin, a shell of perspiration breaking out onto his oil-less body he'd worked so hard to keep that way for his first meeting with Monsieur Stanley.

Concentrating only on Blaine, though, Kurt lifted himself onto his shaking knees and popped his lips off of Blaine's cock, the surface of them throbbing and what he felt could be swelling. Through hazy eyes he spied chocolate remaining on another two inches of Blaine that Kurt couldn't fit into his mouth, so he ducked his head down and suckled and licked it off, drinking the sweet taste up on his bitterly dry tongue. Kurt brushed Blaine's cock aside in order to spend time at his neglected sac, his tongue poking out of his mouth and scraping across the front. They tightened under his touch, exhibiting that Blaine might have been closer than Kurt was. Holding himself down from shaking, Kurt swallowed one of the round orbs onto his tongue and blew out hot, moist air on it to dampen it.

Scraping off the chocolate with his tongue and teeth, Kurt swallowed that down his throat and pressed the tip of his tongue to the scalding, golden skin, ripe with churning come ready to explode the top of his cock at any second. Blaine groaned above him, his fingers still scraping into Kurt's scalp and he carefully moved to the other one. Sensing that Blaine, too, had broken out into a perspiration, Kurt teased him by lightly flirting the tip of his tongue just over the chocolate, not actually brushing the skin. Whimpering around the sac, Kurt moaned and released it in favor of the chocolate coated skin brushing his sac. He lapped his tongue over the raw, damp skin, then ducked his head further between Blaine's legs and swirled his tongue over the skin just inside the crevice of his ass.

He popped off the skin between Blaine's legs with a gasp of pure ecstasy, his sensations buzzing with chocolate and sex, and he groped his tongue around the inside of his mouth to assure that everything still had feeling after practically licking every single centimeter of skin between Blaine's legs. His lips, bruised and sore, were chafed dry and his tongue, pulsating from overworking it, seemed to no longer be automatically wetting itself every five seconds. Thirstily Kurt dipped his fingers into the Jacuzzi water and dribbled it over his aching cheeks, his jaws cramped from stretching so far over Blaine's cock. He felt like a popped balloon, blown up just one inch too far. Hoping the water on his sealed pores might loosen him up again and trigger his tongue into moistening again, Kurt pressed his face into Blaine's stomach weakly.

Panting, Kurt gratefully accepted Blaine bending down to scoop Kurt up into his shaking arms, his thighs and knees cracking as Kurt stretched them out briefly before looping them around Blaine's waist. He wound his arms around his neck, meeting Blaine's wild, golden eyes and bright cheeks with his own. Obviously only holding onto himself by a mere brink, Blaine swung his leg over the Jacuzzi side and lowered to seated position where Kurt had been perched. "Baby, I'm gonna make you feel better," he whispered hoarsely, his mouth apparently as dry as Kurt's. Unable to take another moment without ridding himself off all tension, Kurt clenched his hands in Blaine's damp chest hair, water droplets gathered on the wiry curls, and he opened his mouth over one of Blaine's damp nipples.

Blaine tossed his head back with a wicked growl, his hands positioning Kurt so he straddled Blaine's hips. Suckling the tightened, dark nipple, Kurt dimly felt Blaine's fingers brush over the backs of his thighs in the water, the pounding jets causing Kurt's hips to sway back and forth, brushing Blaine's own hips time and again. "Blaine," Kurt lightly kissed the nipple, his cheeks and neck burning, "Blaine, I-I can't hold on."

His burning thighs longed to stretch out across the bed feebly, his cheek to press into Blaine's chest, his eyes to flutter shut after such a long, chaotic day. Whimpering, Kurt released the nipple and drifted to the other one to suckle the chocolate off of it, his thighs spreading apart father as Blaine slid his hands up the insides of Kurt's thighs. "Spread for me, baby…" Blaine whispered into Kurt's neck, his mouth against the hollow of Kurt's throat, "Lower down, sweetheart. Take it gently…"

Numbly aware of a command being thrown on him like a net, Kurt dropped his hips back down and tossed his head back with a high pitched moan as Blaine's entire length shot straight up into Kurt's prostate. His inner muscles stretched to accommodate the invasion and he, while his entire body trembled, lifted himself back up, then dropped back down swiftly. Blaine's water logged length smeared in the mere shell left behind from his coat of chocolate brushed each side of his arse muscles, then his tip rubbed against Kurt's prostate. Kurt buried his face into Blaine's shoulder, his cheeks flushing bright red as a wave of pleasure soaked into his sore, raw bones. "Oh—" he gasped dreamily, "Blaine, I'm close—"

"Don't stop, baby," Blaine encouraged, his body starting to shudder under Kurt's. He stroked his fingers through Kurt's hair comfortingly, despite his own need of comfort as both of them clenched under the waves of orgasm hitting them as hard as the jet streams, "Oh, _sweet angel,_" Unable to hold himself back when Kurt tightened on him, Blaine rammed his hips up as Kurt was coming down, and both of them stopped breathing at the shock of what hit them. Like a string of firecrackers lit off, both of them cried out and Kurt writhed on Blaine, forcing himself deeper as strands of come washed through the Jacuzzi water, pulverized into bits of nothing in the shots of jet water.

"Blaine!" Kurt screamed, pressing his hips into Blaine's while Blaine lightly bit down into Kurt's shoulder to hold down his own orgasmic pleasure. Pounding his seed into Kurt, he broke into spasmic tremors as his vision turned white-hot, blocking out his view and feeling of anything except Kurt's ass muscles squeezing and milking him dry.

Suddenly, Kurt broke through the surface just as Blaine was finishing his orgasm inside of Kurt and he found himself panting wildly while he sipped cups of air to hold himself steady. As Blaine brought himself back to life, he released his teeth from Kurt's shoulder and rubbed the reddened marks with his thumb, his chest raising and dropping with the speed of his stampeding heart. "Holy shit," he wrapped his arms around Kurt, blinking his eyes to clear them as he spooned water into his hand and dribbled it over Kurt to clean him off, "that was one of the best orgasms of my life. Are you okay?"

Kurt nodded weakly, collapsing against Blaine while he whimpered and panted. "I'm tired," he whispered into the cradle of Blaine's chest, his eyes fighting to stay open. Sometimes he wished he was like those people who got revved up after an orgasm, but as Blaine hushed him gently and rubbed water into his cheekbones with the pad of his thumb he suddenly found himself craving one of those sleepy, cuddly, mushy, post-orgasm.

"Your lips are bruised," Blaine noticed as a side note, his fingers brushing Kurt's lips, "Poor angel. Was I too rough with you?"

"No," Kurt was limply aware of his body being lifted into the cradle of a powerful pair of arms, "you were perfect. Kiss me again to remind me why I let you bruise my lips?"

Chuckling, Blaine peeled back the blankets and laid Kurt down on the covers beside his snoozing bird, who had formed a tiny nest out of a pile of the sheets. Blaine thought for a second about sticking Pavarotti in his cage, but then watched Kurt cup the bird into his palms and place him closer to his body, where Pavarotti eagerly leaned against Kurt's side and drifted back to sleep immediately. Kurt met Blaine's eyes pleadingly, "Can Pavarotti please sleep here tonight? He gets lonely in his cage."

Blaine smirked at Kurt's round, innocently harmless eyes telepathically begging Blaine, when really there was no question to it. Sliding under the blankets beside his lover, he pulled Kurt's length against his and cradled his head on his chest, his hands smoothing over Kurt's back, "My sweet angel," he brushed his finger under Kurt's chin, lifting his face to his, "when have I ever denied you anything?" To prove his point Blaine ducked his head down and brushed his lips lightly against Kurt's as to not bruise them anymore, and, satisfied with Blaine's response, Kurt smiled demurely as he sank down against Blaine's chest and fluttered his eyes shut, their bodies piecing together like the perfect puzzle pieces.

* * *

Rachel peeled away from the combining doors between their suites that they must not have noticed, their focus either on the bed or the Jacuzzi… or both, while inspecting their suite. Obviously to prevent the safety hazard were the main doors into the suites to not open or a fire to be raging outside of a door, Rachel clicked the connector door shut behind her and locked it shut, a sickly twist in her stomach forcing her to forget all about asking if Kurt and Blaine had any sweets left over, because any choices from the room service menu were off limits. Even something as simple as a ham and cheese sandwich cost six dollars, and the prices only went up from there.

The first thing that had taken her appetite away for about another month until that image escaped her mind was a bare ass naked Blaine standing with his back to her, his eyes gazing down at a Jacuzzi. The last thing she'd seen before deciding it best to simply walk away was a cut off image of Kurt's bare shoulder sticking out of the Jacuzzi, his head between Blaine's thighs.

Although she'd imagined this day would come eventually, she had no idea how badly it would shock her that she would be the one to walk in on it happening. Shakily she retrieved her hand from the door handle and stepped back from it as though it were on fire, her mind unable to wrap around the fact that she'd actually caught Blaine in the act of being gay with Kurt, which made her wonder how long the affair had been going on.

"Rachel?" Tina's pure and untainted voice sung out behind her, "Did you find out about the sweets? Do they have any?"

Rachel's eyes burned with the need to tell someone about the affair going on next door, and how she would probably never be able to face neither Kurt nor Blaine ever again without that image flashing in her mind, but for some reason she stopped herself. Her dads had warned her about outing before, and how wrong it was and to never, ever out someone too early. They had warned that it could ruin a family or lead to suicide or drugs, and even if she didn't give one damn about Blaine she never wanted to see him come to that, because part of her warned herself that maybe Blaine _was_ lying at school. Kurt would never love an asshole, right? There had to be another side to Blaine for Kurt to fall in love with him.

Which, of course, led her right back around to the scandalous pictures. Obviously it had been Blaine on the phone asking for them, but why hadn't he shown up for school to watch her downfall? Why had he ignored her completely after that? What if he wasn't really the asshole everyone knew him to be?

What if it had been someone else pressuring Blaine into getting the pictures?

And why was Blaine so afraid of letting his walls down in front of anyone who wasn't Kurt? What was he hiding… or hiding behind?

But the most important question remained of why he wouldn't just come out and find his full happiness with Kurt? What was holding him back? Did Kurt even know the answer to that question?

Pushing aside those questions for a later, more appropriate time when Blaine wasn't bare ass by a Jacuzzi getting a blow job from Kurt, Rachel slowly spun around and forced a smile at her friends, "No, they didn't have anything. You guys can hunt the café downstairs but I'm getting tired. I think I'll go to bed."

"Rachel…" Mercedes frowned, "it's nine thirty. Are you feeling okay? I mean, here we are in New York City and you say you're tired at nine thirty? Did Blaine say something to you?"

"He didn't say anything," her voice caught mid-sentence, addressing the fact of exactly _why _Blaine hadn't said anything. But that was for her to know and them to not find out. She didn't know why she wanted to save Blaine's ass when all he'd done was cause her misery—after all, it'd be just so easy to open the door again and pull out her phone to take pictures then send them in mass text message form to everyone she knew. And then Blaine wouldn't even be finished. He'd be a skid mark on the ground, something for people to step all over with no defense to protect himself. She could do that to him.

She could out him that easily.

Instead, Rachel shifted across the room to her bed under Mercedes', and she curled up into a tiny ball hoping someone would pinch her soon to wake her up. The pressure gnawing at her now was only going to get worse once she saw Kurt and Blaine face to face, knowing now why they ditched class sometimes, knowing now why they disappeared in the middle of lunchtime, knowing now why they skipped school at random days with the same old excuse of _sleeping in._ She knew now why they acted so secretive sometimes, and honestly she wanted to reverse why she knew. Because being the only person to know about this affair was too much pressure on her, and not even a luxury spa visit would make the rest of her plummeting two weeks in New York any better. And it really felt shitty, too, because she had been looking forward to this trip.

And now all she would be looking forward to was the next time Kurt and Blaine vanished off together in hunt of a _gift shop _or a _bathroom_, as she could slowly feel herself start to obsess over what triggered them at those random moments and how she had missed all of the warning signs before. Now that she thought about it, the only thing missing from her equation was Blaine actually admitting out loud that he was gay.

_Damn you, Blaine, I wanted to enjoy these next two weeks._ She thought telepathically, hoping he received her message, but he probably didn't, his mind focused completely in on whatever Kurt was doing to him next door. And just the thought that only a wall separated her from their sexy affair was enough for her to flip over and bury her face in a pillow, hoping that it suffocated her by morning.


	25. Firework

Author's note: Hey, my readers! This chapter has worn me to the bone. There isn't much Klaine fluffiness in it and it shows a lot more of the darker side of Blaine, but I promise things will get better. Probably not in the next few chapters-the next few are going to be just as angsty, but eventually it will be Klainebows and fluffiness again. I'd like to make a shout-out to all of my AMAZING reviewers, and even the ones who have left more of the constructive criticism. JMarieAllenPoe: These next few chapters would be nothing without you and I'm falling more in love with your ideas by the second :D Thanks to JMarieAllenPoe's advice I'm updating tonight and not next weekend, which I'm not sure yet if that's a plus or not but I'll go with the idea of seperating out my chapters even more than they originally would have been if that means faster updates and happier reviewers! To my newest reviewer, this story is almost halfway finished and it'll probably be another two months until I can end it, but I swear that I will finish it :) Luckily I don't have a giant speech to rattle off about anything, but to the reviewer who wrote that the last chapter focused more in on Blaine's pleasure, I'm not sure if you meant that Blaine was kind of using Kurt to get pleasure or that Kurt didn't really seem pleasured, but I always make sure that when I write smut it's about equality. That's why I included the closet scene in One of Us. I think Blaine definitely addresses smut-like situations more out loud than Kurt does, just because Kurt is more innocent about those things, but I've never written a scene where Blaine uses Kurt for pleasure. He's always put Kurt first. Anyway, I don't have much else to say about this chapter except that it's one of the darkest I've written so far so hopefully it sits well with my readers :) If anyone has any suggestions for New York, I'd make you my virtual best friend if you wrote me in a PM or a review and let me know about them :) No suggestion would be dumb or silly to me. I've had some insane ideas when it's come to this story, so whatever the suggestion I'd love to hear it! Review and enjoy, my wonderful readers! (Oh, and just as a side note, I personally have nothing against the name Nathanial. I could have put any name in the place of it, that guy just sounded like a Nathanial and Blaine doesn't like him, obviously.)

Disclaimer: I'm drawing a blank on a new way of how to say that I don't own Glee. I hope all of you understand that I don't. And that I'm just writing this because I'm in love with Klaine. To those of you who do think I own Glee, there's this guy named Ryan Murphy you should probably look up.

* * *

Unique wandered through the abruptly menacing hallways he'd enjoyed strolling through not ten minutes ago, pleasuring in soaking in the flawless artwork hung halfway up each wall or bumping into a friendly, early-bird-catches-the-worm maid who always had a brilliant smile in store for him. It was like that one word from Kurt erased everything he'd been looking forward to all morning and replaced it with a simple dread that when Kurt had morphed Unique into Blaine's servant, he doubted his survival the way he doubted Britney Spears' sanity. Once it was gone, it wasn't coming back. It wasn't that he didn't like Blaine—he actually did… a lot. Enough to have to remind himself that Kurt was his best friend and happily in love with Blaine, which made him totally off limits. But Unique had never been alone with Blaine before, and just the thought of it sent chills up his spine. Blaine reminded him of the beautiful, jealous serial killer in the movies, a fantastic and gorgeous lover until something threatened his marriage, and then he pulled a psycho move on the entire town.

And that was the part that Unique didn't understand.

Before Unique could question his bubbly best friend's choice of man, he jerked around to face Kurt's door and crammed a key into the slot. In seconds a light flashed green and the lock clicked, so Unique wedged himself inside the darkened room. Kurt had obviously recently gotten up, the room still soaked in the scent of Kurt's famous perfume. The scent reminded Unique of the good days, before Kurt ever left Paris and everything was easier. Unique was afraid that Kurt was falling way too hard for his birth state and that within another eight months… he'd decide not to come home at all, and that would lead to an utter nightmare.

Spying the messy bed pressed up against a wall, Unique spotted Kurt's already made side of the bed then shifted his eyes over to where Blaine lay face down under a cocoon of blankets, his muscular shoulders, arms and head the only thing on him showing, the rest of him submerged under the blankets. His face was turned slightly to the side, his expression cool and what could have counted as relaxed… for Blaine, at least. Unique nearly had to turn his face away from Blaine in such a vulnerable state, as though looking in on the dragon guarding the castle when he wasn't prepared to blow fire at the enemy, so weakened and ready to be caught off guard. It felt almost wrong standing over such a powerful person as he trustingly let himself fade off, having accepted the fact that were anyone to enter the room besides Kurt, they would probably knock and alert him first.

Unable to drag his eyes away from Blaine, his eyes captivated by his own curiosity as to what was behind Blaine's walls, Unique studied the Filipino boy collapsed across the bed thoroughly, drinking in every detail as to why every second he spent looking at Blaine, he seemed to change, to never stay the same way he was before Unique last blinked. Blaine could have been truly, rightfully handsome had he been born someone else, Unique knew that for sure. Model handsome, like the million dollar Calvin Klein models. But some features were off, giving his extraordinary, underlying beauty an ordinary, public school boy experience. Although every feature in itself that Blaine had been born with was flawless, some of his own self-induced appearances tore away at that model beauty both women and men could adore in another man. His Filipino tan, flawless in itself, had paled out due to living in Ohio, when Blaine actually belonged somewhere along the coast; Florida, California, maybe even New York. There Blaine would have truly shined and not looked so chalky rather than the healthy, golden glow his skin should have been. And from a lack of spending time in the tanning booth—which, although it didn't offer the full potential, could have offered some boost to Blaine's to-die-for tan—Blaine's features suffered even more.

Although Blaine had claimed to play football the previous night, Unique almost wanted to doubt him for the lack of meat on his bones. Despite his tone, Unique noticed that Blaine's cheekbones stuck out about a centimeter too far in his hollow cheeks and how his shoulders didn't curve quite enough. Skeptical that Blaine bothered to eat enough, Unique studied how chapped, dry and colorless his lips appeared, as well. Practically thin, pink lines with slices of skin dug out of them hovering around his mouth, Blaine's lips reminded Unique of the exaggerated and photo shopped lipstick commercials Vogue used to do back in the early 2000's, where Vogue snapped photos of dehydrated, flawed girls who bit their lips one too many times then slapped a photo on the screen of another girl who'd been photo shopped to look a little like the first, only with color bursting everywhere, a bright smile on her lusciously full and moist lips and a happy background image portrayed behind her.

All that because of a single lipstick treatment. As if.

His eyes drifted up to Blaine's closed eyes, which Unique had claimed to be one of Blaine's best features from the moment he'd met him. A bright, fiery gold, Unique almost felt a swell of agony in his stomach at the betrayed bruises swelling around Blaine's eyes, permanently damaging their beauty. Dark shadows shaded the rims of his eyes, fading out until the purple swelling clashed with his chalky tan. Blaine's hair, also one of his best features, had been for years abused and lacked taking care of, the bouncy curls flattened and dying of the bold, chestnut they should have been. About two inches too long to be the flirty, romantic movie, hero's hair with less expression and enthusiasm than a pessimist, Blaine's hair could have and should have been all of the things that men in magazines photo shopped and worked for years to get their hair to be. Blaine's hair had all of the things that men paid thousands of dollars to get. And yet, it was like the rest of him.

Tired.

Unique saw that to be the problem under it all, that Blaine always appeared tired to him. Not like he needed to sleep, but like he was always worn down, exhausted from mentally battling with something invisible no one but him could see. Unique wondered if even Kurt knew what was always on Blaine's mind.

As though sensing he was being watched, Blaine wearily blinked his eyes awake and glimpsed over his shoulder at Unique, who replied by blinking back, unsure what exactly to say about having watched Blaine in his sleep. At the sight of Unique standing there Blaine seemed to remember something and winced, his head burrowing further down in the pillow as though it pained him to so much as wake up. Unique awkwardly approached his side of the bed, touching his hand to Blaine's shoulder blade. The skin under his hand was scalding hot, and he swiftly removed his hand. "Blaine, are you sick? Your skin is really hot."

Blaine shook his head, reluctantly lifting it from the pillow and rolling onto his back. Pushing back his hair with his fingers, Blaine gazed up at Unique as if he didn't recall ever meeting him, then a slow recognition cast a flush across his cheeks, his golden eyes flaming alive as the sleep haze wore off of him. "No," he whispered, checking the spot in the bed beside him, "Where's Kurt?"

"We had to start getting him prepped for tomorrow early," Unique explained quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Jeez, even Stanley had never intimidated him the way Blaine did! "He's already up and getting fitted. Ohio's really taken its toll on him. He asked for me to come get you. He has breakfast for you downstairs. The limo leaves in an hour and a half. He has Pavarotti with him so you don't have to worry about the bird, and the girls are either in the café or the gift shop. I can't remember which they last said. Are you sure you're feeling up to this? You know, you don't have to come in today. We're just taking Kurt down to Vogue to get ready for tomorrow and Monsieur Stanley is going to look over the girls."

"No," Blaine slid his legs off the bed, then suddenly recalled another thing and clutched the slipping blankets to his thighs, "I promised him I'd be there for him. Tell me where he is and I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Unique blinked again, curious as to why Blaine wasn't standing or letting the sheets fall, "He's down on the first level in the spa room. It's back behind the gym. But, Blaine, are you sure you want to go in there? It's kind of boring. He's just getting a mani-pedi. You could wait with the girls—"

Blaine abruptly glared up at him, threatening him into cutting him off from Kurt one more time. Unique instantly withdrew his request, heading for the doorway, "Okay, never mind. Today you can dress casually, by the way. Jeans and a button down would be good. I'll see you in fifteen."

Not daring to tear his gaze from the doorway until a minute after Unique shut it behind himself, Blaine blew out a heavy sigh and scrunched his hands in his hair, yanking on the dark ringlets. _Well, my perfect night had to end at some point, didn't it?_ He kicked the blankets off of himself, revealing his naked body to the air conditioned, icy breeze in the room. Rising to his feet, Blaine winced at the chafing on his cock from so many times of awakening to a needy Kurt lowering his body down onto his cock and drinking a climax out of him, no matter how many times Blaine swore that Kurt couldn't milk one more drop of come out of him. He'd finally decided on the best option to roll Kurt onto his side and straddle him from behind, wedging himself inside of Kurt for the remainder of the night. And that seemed to have satisfied Kurt, except once when he'd apparently been having a wet dream and woke Blaine up by whimpering and pressing back as hard as he could against Blaine.

Not that Blaine really minded being awoken in the middle of the night by a moaning, anxiously turned-on Kurt. After all, he really had only himself to blame. Chocolate was known for enhancing a person's sexual sensations, and with Kurt's system being so new to chocolate and all of its benefits… Well, Blaine made a mental note to add chocolate to his next grocery shopping list, to be sure.

He padded weakly toward the roomy bathroom scented like the inside of a floral air conditioner, the cool tiles awakening Blaine more and more with every step he took. Stepping toward the glass shower, Blaine swung open the door and could barely make out the remaining steam and water droplets of Kurt's shower, which made it clear that he hadn't been gone long. Glancing toward the knobs on the wall, Blaine twisted one and hoped he got it right, when a perfumed mist of water sprayed from tiny nozzles surrounding the showers. Blaine coughed and wiped his face clear, his air smothered by the scent of lilacs or something like that.

Stepping inside the shower, Blaine twisted another knob and a blast of scalding water burned the tips of his fingers, but he ignored it. Despite his instantly reddened, flaming fingers, Blaine forced himself into the direct spray of the water, soaking in the burst of feeling inside his stomach. Without Kurt he allowed himself time to think, to react to everything, and the sudden numbness inside of him hurt him worse than the burning water ever would. _Why can't I just have a good day for the entire twenty four hours?_ He wondered to himself, then thought about how he might feel on a honeymoon with Kurt. There would be no thinking about the pain in his life or the fact that he didn't have a family and never truly did. He wouldn't have to think about his classmates, and he wouldn't be worried about the next time he'd have a fight. He wouldn't concern himself with thinking through his next defense tactic or what he'd have to say or do to fight his way through another shitty day.

Simply thinking about secluding himself from the world with Kurt in his arms washed a wave of building tension off of his back, relieving him of some of the aching stress in his shoulders. He felt drained and hungry, dying to hold Kurt in his arms again. He just wanted to hear his voice, at the least. With Kurt he saw everything in black and white, that he loved Kurt with all of his heart and every single cell in his body, but that he also simply wasn't sure of anything else. And by the time he figured everything out, Kurt would already be gone.

The stress returned full force, just as a light tapping at the door startled him out of his trance. Washing off the last of the soap, Blaine swore under his breath and stepped out of his shortened shower, his hair smelling like Kurt's thirty dollar, designer shampoo since Blaine had forgotten his own and the only other was a tiny, tacky bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo that even a five-star hotel wouldn't spend more than a buck on. And with Kurt's deadly warnings that those induced early graying, split ends and bald spots over time, he chose to satisfy his lover and just use Kurt's shampoo, even if it did make his hair smell like flowers and mints.

Wrapping a towel around his waist and rubbing a hand through his dripping hair to help dry it so he didn't absolutely soak the floor, Blaine stormed out into the main room where the damp bed still smelled of and looked like a sexy rendezvous had taken place and the Jacuzzi led a watery, blood tinted trail over to the bed across the carpet, a brief reminder of what took place last night and what would continue to take place for the next two weeks every night. Blaine winced at a hardened glob of chocolate on the floor, which must have fallen off of his body while he was walking over to the Jacuzzi, and a minute smirk curved his lips that Kurt was so capable of snapping his fingers and making Blaine smear himself on chocolate. It seemed ridiculous now, but last night he understood exactly why he'd done it.

He cleared his mind just enough to swing open the door and meet the eye of a young maid maybe a year or two older than him, her dyed, honey hair swept back into a simple, messy bun and her catty eyes widening at the sight of Blaine. Although most men's brains would have dropped straight to their groins at the sight of her, Blaine hindered down a sting of annoyance at the sight of her. He wanted to be left alone until he could find Kurt, and then he wanted to be alone with Kurt. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

Her plump lips parted and she seemed speechless for a moment, her gaze raking Blaine in, head to feet and back again, "Oh, my goodness." She whispered more to herself than him, then flushed and cleared her throat, "Um… Hi. I-I can come back later to clean… but, um, do you need any more towels or… anything, Mr. Hummel?"

Blaine's brows furrowed, and he leaned casually against the door, "I'm not Kurt. I'm just staying with him. He probably won't be back until late tonight."

The girl licked her lips, "You're not Mr. Hummel? Who are you, then? Because you totally look like a model. You're really gorgeous." A second after her words slipped out, she shook her head and her bun bounced against her neck, "Sorry, I'm not being professional. Um… it's just been a _long_ time since I've had a good date, and you're just… _super _gorgeous."

_I'm also not your type and you're not turning me on at all. Imagine that._ Blaine twitched a shoulder, "Thanks… I guess. I don't need anything right now but I'll be out of here in five." He turned away from the door, preparing to close it when the girl stuck her foot out, blocking his path. He mentally swore, his lips peeling back over his teeth as his fingernails dug into his palms. _Seriously? Don't you have anything freaking better to do than bug the shit out of me?_

"Wait!" the girl blurted, her eyes shutting, "You're not gay, are you? Because I heard a rumor that Mr. Hummel is gay and has a boyfriend."

Blaine simply stared at her, willing her out of his sight. "I think your question can answer itself. I've really got to get out of here, so I'll see you around." He swung the door shut and dropped his towel to the floor, hoping that his answer scared her off, at least.

Returning to his position in the bathroom, Blaine searched his still packed suitcase for his darkest pair of jeans he had and his black button down that Kurt had bought him just after Christmas for this specific trip with the claim that black made his eyes pop. He yanked on a pair of boxers then rolled on his jeans, and pulled his button up over his arms. Buttoning everything except the top two buttons, just so he did look casual while giving off the hint that he did mean business, Blaine lifted himself to his feet and glanced into the mirror. Running his fingers through his hair to smooth the tangled curls out, Blaine adjusted the collar of his shirt and pulled his curls out of it, then slid his feet into a pair of black Keds.

Mollified enough by his appearance, Blaine licked his tongue over his lips and stared at himself for a second too long, wondering where the hell the douche bag, football playing asshole inside of him had crawled to and then died and shriveled up, and who the man in the mirror staring back at him was.

And why he hadn't ever emerged before.

* * *

Kurt quelled his thirst with another drink of the strawberry lemonade at his tableside, flipping pages in his magazine and eyeing the _Who wore it best?_ column near the bottom of the page, since many of the actual words featured on the page were too difficult to read and he didn't want to think the meaning of anything through. A full foot massage and mani-pedi from a five star hotel usually only came about once in a lifetime for a person, so rather than bother himself with ideas of work or the fact that in two hours he'd be facing a complete makeover with no breaks except for maybe time to eat a bag of unsalted and dried out chips, if he got lucky, he sank deeper into his massage chair and sighed gratefully as the woman knelt by his feet dug into a sore place on the arch of his foot.

Beside him on a normal, spinning chair that didn't heat up or vibrate at a person's touch rested Unique, his face buried in another fashion magazine. He inhaled sharply every few minutes at the shock he had for the American culture and their fashions, but Kurt ignored him and simply soaked in his spoiling while it lasted. Several times a paparazzi gang had attempted to break in on Kurt's mani-pedi time to snap pictures for the rest of the press, but thanks to extremely good security nothing had ever worked out for them.

Concentrating on the differences between how Jessica Alba and Katy Perry both wore a cherry, mini Louis Vuitton and sported their stiletto heels, Kurt frowned in judging over the perks and failures of both when Unique gasped noisily beside him and leaned closer to his magazine. "What _is_ that?"

Kurt glanced up for the first time since one of the girls had switched out his feet and started shining his toenails while clipping his cuticles. "What is what? Have you found something absolutely disgusting?"

Unique flashed the magazine at him, revealing a picture of Lady Gaga in her meat suit. Kurt burst out laughing, and Unique snapped the magazine shut and tossed it aside, "There are times when I'm relieved you don't wear animals." He muttered and tilted his head down in shame. "_Americans._ They can't wear anything. Anyway… Speaking of wearing things, why aren't you wearing _anything?_" Unique smirked at Kurt's choice of outfit, or rather the lack of it, from his white, off-the-shoulder, belly shirt with a golden picture of a pair of sunglasses across the front, and a clown-nose red, mini skirt with a slit cut into the side of it and ruffles around the hem. A pair of red wedge heels finished off the outfit, giving Kurt an exotic belly dancer look that for whatever reason he managed to pull off.

Kurt plucked at his baggy shirt, "I figured that this outfit would be easiest to work around if all I'm doing today is getting a makeover. Why, is it too… flashy?"

Unique frowned, "No, but you've definitely been turning heads. Guys have been checking you out all morning. It's strange to think that every man has a little gay in him, and that you manage to somehow bring it out. And I never do."

Giggling lightly, Kurt flushed, "Well, you can have any men that I bring in because I'm more than happy with the one I have."

While Kurt set his magazine aside and focused in on the woman painting a clear coat of nail enforcers on Kurt's toenails, Unique brought his legs up on the chair and crossed them, his hand reaching out to touch Kurt's knee. Kurt's eyes returned to him, the blue orbs stunning against the bright red of his skirt. For a second Unique's throat briefly dried out, and he swallowed down his sudden forgetfulness that Kurt was his best friend and not his sex friend. The thing was, he'd never been able to stop his slight crush he had on Kurt. Since the day Kurt had walked into his art studio where he created his million dollar masterpieces, he'd fallen head over heels for the gorgeous, blue eyed boy. Of course, he'd kept it to himself mainly because Kurt, at first, had kept their relationship strictly professional until one day Kurt admitted that Unique was his best friend.

And that was when Unique's heart had plummeted to the bottom of his stomach. Once a man got in the friend zone, it was almost impossible to dig his way out. And when a man got in the best friend zone, that meant the boy he was crushing on thought of him more as a fashionista sister. Then when he brought the dreamy, five feet and eight inch, golden eyed boyfriend into the picture, the depression really started to sink in that there was no way out of this one-sided relationship.

Unique cleared his throat, leaning forward, "Kurt, why the hell are you with that guy?"

Kurt blinked blankly at him as he nursed his strawberry lemonade carefully, never sucking in more than he could handle and never choking, "What do you mean? I thought you liked Blaine."

Unique nodded his head, "I do, believe me. But, Kurt, the guy _never _smiles and he looks like he's been sleeping in a coffin for the past ten years. You're nothing like him. You're so cheerful and optimistic and he's… not. And he never talks, either. He looks like he's always judging everyone."

Licking his lips, Kurt leaned back in his chair, "I don't know… I guess he's kind of reserved. He's different when we're alone. Unique, you call yourself that name for a reason. Can't Blaine be a little unique, too? We all have quirks. I'm okay with him being quiet. He opens up around me."

Unique rolled his eyes, "Okay, fine. Still… I imagined you with someone a little more… chatty. Positive. A guy who likes a good laugh. Maybe a blond, too." Of course, Unique couldn't actually envision himself holding hands with Kurt in the future, and when he came to the realization that _they_ weren't becoming a thing anytime soon, Unique had begun to shape and mold the perfect guy for Kurt. And what Unique had sorted out looked more like Alex Pettyfer _before_ he shaved his head. Honestly, Unique had never once imagined a guy like Blaine Anderson on the beautiful Kurt Hummel's arm.

Kurt released a high pitched laugh that could only mean two things. He was either being tickled, or he'd just been offended. Unique imagined it was the second, because despite the massage chair and Kurt's vulnerability to tickling, his expression gave away everything. And the wicked results weren't pretty. "So now you're discriminating against Blaine's _hair color?_ Unique, why don't you like him? Has he even said more than five sentences to you?"

Unique shrugged his shoulders helplessly, "I never said I didn't like him. I'm saying that you two… just don't match up. And I don't want your first relationship to end in flames, Kurt—"

Kurt's entire body stiffened, his brilliant eyes darkening, "Unique, I don't need your approval on Blaine. He loves me more than anything and he's never tried to harm me. If you're not happy about that, wait to tell me until you have proof of Blaine doing something that could hurt me. I get enough of this at school and I expected you, as my best friend, to support me. You don't know Blaine or all that he's sacrificed for me."

Slumping down, Unique sighed and bowed his head over his lap at the realization that two and a half months in, Blaine and Kurt were as strong together as a steel wall. There would be no breaking into Kurt's mind that after two and a half _years_ of knowing him, he still wanted him for himself. And he couldn't even convince Kurt that he wanted teen dream sensation Alex Pettyfer, either. Kurt was glued to Blaine like the spray tan he'd never gotten.

Suddenly, the door cracked open and the security guard's head popped in, "Monsieur Hummel?" he muttered in a gruff voice, "You have company."

Kurt perked up at that, trying not to shift around too much since Pavarotti was perched and sound asleep on his shoulder, "Who is it?" he replied softly, and in seconds the straining twisting in his stomach smashed apart into tiny flutters, a helpless smile curving his lips at the cut off sight he had of a pile of curly, dark hair atop his visitor's head. "_Blaine._" He breathed softly, a flood of memories of the preceding night jolting his numb body alive. "Yes, he can come in."

The security guard nodded at Blaine, who emerged into the room in the outfit Kurt had bought him for the trip. Squirming, Kurt shared a knowing smirk with Blaine as they both acknowledged the previous night in a matter of seconds. Blaine approached Kurt's massage chair and set his hand down on Kurt's bare shoulder, his head dipping down as he nuzzled into Kurt's ear, "Good morning," he popped his lips against the shell of Kurt's ear, causing Kurt to jump slightly and release an anxious giggle, "You look really sexy right now."

Pavarotti abruptly stirred at the commotion around him, probably mostly from Kurt's racing heart awakening him but he stretched out his wings anyway, his beady eyes flipping open. He cocked his head at Blaine as though to wonder when he'd gotten there, then twittered noisily at him. Blaine laughed at the chirping bird, stroking his fingers down Pavarotti's back. "Good morning to you, too. Have you already fed him, baby?"

"Yes," Kurt replied, flexing his cramping shoulder when Blaine scooped the bird into his palms. Pavarotti opened his beak at Blaine's heavy curls, threatening to nip. "I gave him a half scoop more for putting up with the plane ride. He's been missing you. I tried to take him into the sauna room but he didn't like all of the humidity—and neither did my hair. So we decided to get mani-pedi's instead, didn't we, Pavarotti?"

Pavarotti twittered and flapped, fluffing out his feathers like a show bird.

Blaine smirked and returned the bird to Kurt's lap where he nested down into Kurt's bare legs and eyed Blaine skeptically, in fear that he might leave again. "I'm glad you found something you both agree on. You want me to go back to the room to get his cage for today?"

Kurt stroked his fingers down Pavarotti's back again, his eyes narrowing, "He should be fine being out," he finally murmured, "I'll keep him with me when I can, then you can hold onto him for the rest of the time. I read somewhere that canaries need baths two times a week in lukewarm water. While I'm getting a makeover, Pavarotti should, too. He's a show bird at heart. If we're lucky we'll run into the manager of _Bird Talk_ magazine and they'll realize just what talent Pavarotti has."

Living up the moment, Pavarotti whistled noisily and bobbed his head in agreement. Kurt stroked his bird and reached into an untouched bag of unsalted peanuts and handed one to Pavarotti, who tucked it into his mouth then cracked into it. Unique doubtfully groaned, ruining Pavarotti's moment of glory, "Kurt, you're not actually bringing the bird to Vogue, are you? You know Monsieur Stanley has a no-pet tolerance."

"Pavarotti," Blaine corrected, while Kurt stroked his fingers over Pavarotti's puffed out chest in defense.

Kurt tilted his head, pulling his offended bird against his bare stomach, "Unique, Pavarotti _is _the other half of my deal. I have to bring him with me. I'm sure Monsieur Stanley will make an exception to Pavarotti. It's not like I'm trying to bring in a rabid dog."

"What if he flies off?" Unique stated cynically.

Blaine easily put in, "Pavarotti's wing is permanently damaged from his last owner. He can move it but the vet said he'll never be able to fly again. The best he can do is wander off on foot, and he's never ventured away from Kurt. He knows better than that."

Unique turned his head away and hid his eye roll behind a random magazine he picked up from his discard pile, trying to tune out Kurt's constant cooing and spoiling to his _show case _bird that Blaine only bothered to encourage. _Pavarotti, what I wouldn't pay to be in your place right now, _Unique telepathically thought to the twittering, joyful bird as he closed his eyes and attempted to drown out Blaine's persistent flirting and kissing on Kurt. _Don't be so jealous, Unique. Blaine's a good guy._

Why the hell did letting Kurt go have to be so damned hard?

* * *

Sounds of clacking heels and elevator doors dinging cracked the professionally tamed air around them like gunshots, while magazine pages printing off from copiers cast a laminated paper scent overtop of the overwhelming office smell. Nearly identical to the movies, the Vogue corporations resided in a towering, glass-wall building with a roof too high to even see and about fifty floors, each for a different category of fashion. Unique led them down a narrow hallway with office rooms off to the side and a few janitor closets nestled in every twenty doors, the florescent lighting above throwing a rectangle of white light atop of his dark, shaved head.

While the men and women—each flirtatiously dressed to a nine or above—kept their heads down as Kurt passed by, Blaine noticed each and every one of them spare themselves a glance at the French model after he strolled by their doors. Unique glanced over his shoulder at the group of them, "Monsieur Stanley is meeting us on the lower level, Kurt. You girls will be going with Mademoiselle Lyndsey for an airbrush makeover. Blaine, you can either stay with Kurt or wait in the lobby." He whipped around a corner and met head on with the elevator, where he pressed a button and the doors instantly flew open.

Kurt followed Unique inside with Blaine's hand at his hips, and the girls piled in after. Unique continued explaining while the elevator purred alive and dropped toward the basement, "Girls, you're going to be judged at four. The two who aren't chosen can leave for the hotel immediately. Kurt, you can leave around eight tonight—once your makeover is over and we've discussed outfit planning. Since you've grown and thinned out a lot we're going to have to do fittings whenever we can. I think we're going to start out with your eyebrows. Just a re-shaping. I think we're going to arch them more this time rather than curve them."

Kurt licked his lips, tilting his head toward Blaine, "What about Blaine? If he's going to do the music video with me shouldn't _he_ have the same things done that I am? He doesn't need it, really, but doesn't Monsieur Stanley want to give him the same makeover? He'll need fitted for his outfit, at least."

Unique shrugged offhandedly, "I don't know. You can ask."

Blaine narrowed his eyes, glancing over at Kurt for an explanation. Kurt seemed as startled by the curt reply as Blaine did, though, so he parted his lips and mumbled, "Unique… Do you have a problem with me? Did I say something to you?"

Unique glimpsed over his shoulder at Blaine, his eyes blank, "No, it's just that Kurt has a lot of work to get done today and we don't have time to give everyone a makeover."

The elevator doors dinged open and Unique slipped out, and the girls followed in a giggling huddle behind him while Kurt remained with a stunned Blaine. Kurt blinked at Blaine apologetically, his eyes round from the shock of Unique's rudeness toward Blaine. Blaine opened his mouth to clear the air that whatever had happened wasn't Kurt's fault, when a noisy guffaw exploded through the room. "Where is my _superstar?_" exclaimed a fluently French accented voice, and Kurt returned his gaze to the opened doors of the elevator.

A low-lit room twenty times the size of his bedroom met his eyes, designed to appear like a massive runway. An elevated platform wormed throughout the middle of the room, and male mannequins about the size of Kurt were positioned all around it, dressed in outfits featuring reds, greens, silvers and gold. Lights flashed above the staged runway, bringing the scene to its full potential. On either side of the runway rested an assortment of vanities, from hair stations complete with million dollar hair products, to an eyebrow-and-false-lashes station in the opposite corner. To finish off the room massive pictures of Kurt in different modeling positions smothered the walls, his eyes always blank in every picture. The largest picture of him featured a black and white photo of him from his stomach up, a simple black tee-shirt covering him. He was sitting at a desk and resting his elbow on it, his cheek cradled on his loosened fist.

At age sixteen his cheeks had been fuller with less defined cheekbones, and he hadn't figured out quite yet that coiffing his hair gave him an older and more mature appearance, his bangs curved across his forehead and just barely brushing an eyebrow. The picture in itself gave him a very bored appearance, his eyes tired and his lips drawn toward his jaw. Kurt understood just how he might have felt during that specific photo shoot—like a long day was coming ahead of him of simply staring at a wall and saying nothing.

Suddenly, a dark haired man about the size of Unique swept toward the elevator and yanked Kurt out of it, his hands clamping down on Kurt's shoulders. Startled from his daydream, Kurt widened his eyes at Stanley, who stepped back to admire Kurt. Blaine managed to wriggle out behind Kurt, standing a few feet back as Stanley pinched Kurt's chin, jerking his head this way and that. "Perfection," he muttered under his breath, checking Kurt's every feature, "Good, you lost that weight I was hoping you would. But what did you do to your hair?"

Kurt lifted his hand to his coiffed locks, his cheeks flushing, "I-I… coiffed it. I like this style better and it suits my face structure better now that my cheekbones are more obvious—"

Stanley leaned back and considered Kurt's hair, "Yes, it does. But never do something like this again without my approval. Coif will be the new _in._ Lyndsey, jot that down. But make sure that people know to coif like my superstar and not Edward freaking Cullen. We want to sell beauty queens, not chalky vampires. Your eyebrows… Have you started plucking them at home?" At Kurt's unsure nod Stanley waved his hand at his assistant, a girl in her mid-twenties resting on a chair and breaking her wrist over noting tiny things about Kurt on a legal pad. "Lyndsey, put in a note that shaping from the bottom is out. Shaping from the top is in. Oh, and, mini's and wedges… also _in._" He turned his attention back to a flustered Kurt, "Alright, superstar, show me who you brought me! I'm dying to know what diamonds in the rough you chose out of your tacky, American selections. If there _are_ any diamonds in the rough here." He glanced around him as though looking over America in general and snorted.

Unique stepped in that time, gesturing immediately to the girls, "Well, here we have Rachel Berry, Mercedes Jones and Tina Cohen-Chang to choose for a new fashion line worthy look. And this is Blaine Anderson, Kurt's choice of a duet partner."

Not bothering to hold down a revolted sneer, Stanley eyed each of Kurt's selections with the expression of a man watching his brand new Porsche roll off a cliff, but his eyes jolted to a stop on Blaine, then slowly narrowed, "Well… _Mr._ Anderson, did you know that I have a no pet policy at work? Why is that bird on your shoulder? Lyndsey, come remove of our little pest immediately—"

While Unique side-glanced at Kurt in an inspired, _told-you-so_ mocking way, Kurt stepped toward Stanley, which must have startled him by the boldness because he instantly jerked away, "Wait, Monsieur Stanley, Pavarotti is _my_ pet. Well… technically he belongs to Blaine, too, but he was my Christmas gift. I don't go anywhere without him. He won't cause any trouble. He has the mind of a show bird, I promise."

Stanley flashed his narrowed eyes at Kurt, considering the once repulsive bird then blurting out, "Lyndsey, canaries are in. Chihuahua purses are out. Good, we'll use him in your photo shoot. Lyndsey, fetch me the finest bird groomer we have. May I see your bird?" He held his gloved hand out at Blaine, wiggling his fingers impatiently.

Blaine's face paled out, and he touched his hand to a chirping Pavarotti, who he knew couldn't be separated from either he or Kurt without panicking, "Um… I'd like to stay with him… while he's getting groomed."

"Perfect, so when the bird groomer gets here you'll be out of my way," Stanley whirled back around toward Kurt, then lifted his hands over his head and clapped twice, "Nathanial! Our superstar is waiting." He glimpsed casually at Kurt, "You'll be getting a makeover from Nathanial today. He's one step away from becoming a Calvin Klein model and I told him that if he does your makeover well, the spot will be his."

Kurt shifted his weight uncomfortably, "You mean… _his_ job offer will reflect on _my _face? He's done makeovers before… hasn't he?"

"Please, I've tested him in everything before," Stanley rolled his eyes as though the suggestion that he would stick an amateur in with one of his models was sheer ridiculousness, "He's passed almost everything. I'd at least give him a seventy five percent or higher. Besides, if you're going through with modeling with Calvin Klein models tomorrow, you need to be comfortable with them. So I decided to stick you in some of the most exposed situations with Nathanial first. He'll be taking you into a deep-skin massage first, and, don't worry, he'll be professional when you take your clothes off."

Kurt's mouth fell open, a rush of heat flaming his cheeks and neck, and his eyes watered, "Wait… didn't you get my email about doing the photo shoot with Blaine? He looks just like a Calvin Klein model and I _am_ comfortable with him—"

"I considered your offer." Stanley waved his hand through the air, "Especially when I saw that he's Filipino. Nothing like mixing the cultures for better advertising. _But _then you show me _this _washed out Harry Potter?" he snorted in Blaine's general direction, "I've never seen such horrible hair, his skin is chalky, his nails are too short and dirty, his lips are thin and he has a small bump on his nose where it's been broken before. I could go on but I think you get my point, Kurt. It's _my _models or the deal falls through and I'll be sure to _never _let you model again. You're the first model I've ever given a second chance, but only because your beauty is one of the most undeniably flawless I've ever seen. If I were you I wouldn't be questioning my decisions right now, Kurt. If you want this job, you play by my rules. And I don't expect a word of panic out of you when you're with my Calvin Klein models. It's a wonder why a gay boy like you doesn't fall to his knees at the feet of my models. They _are_ gorgeous."

"But they're not Blaine," Kurt whispered more to himself than anyone else, momentarily distracting Stanley until the elevator doors swung open again, revealing a physically airbrushed, blond man on the other side. At least three inches taller than Kurt and two times his size in shoulder width, the chiseled man with a face Kurt doubted was more than forty percent naturally his own and a head of spiked, blond hair with dark roots showing, the man confidently strode into the room and stopped by Stanley.

Stanley nodded at Kurt, "This is our superstar, Kurt Hummel. Beautiful, is he not? I'd suggest the rock therapy first… he's seeming a little _tense_ today. But all of that stiff behavior you're sporting today will be gone by tomorrow… won't it, superstar?"

Kurt tightened his jaw when Nathanial slipped his fingers under his chin, bringing his face up to look at his, "You _are_ as beautiful as they say," Nathanial smirked, his grin widening as Kurt jerked his face away, "and as fiery. Will you let me escort you to the spa room?"

Beside him Blaine's entire body hardened like stone, and Kurt glanced over to spy Blaine's face warped in a way Kurt had only ever seen Blaine look at Karofsky. Jaws partially jutted out, his lips peeled back over his teeth, nose slightly wrinkled at the bridge and his flaming eyes narrowed with his brows yanked down over them, Blaine's fingers curled and uncurled as he stared at the man gripping onto Kurt's wrist. Stanley noticed where Kurt's gaze was directed and his light voice lilted toward Blaine, "Is there a problem, Mr. Anderson?" he smirked, as though enjoying the tension in the room, "You aren't… his boyfriend, are you? I'm afraid that this makeover has to be done by a professional and Kurt has to get comfortable with the Calvin Klein models—"

Blaine's entire body trembled and his lips parted, his breath slipping in and out raggedly as he did everything he could to control his shaking voice, "You want to tell me that this guy is a professional? The only thing you're doing is illegally exposing Kurt to some pervert who wants to put his hands all over him. He's never been exposed in front of anyone before—except me."

Stanley frowned and patted Blaine on the back, "He's no longer a minor, this isn't illegal. I'm doing Kurt good. He needs his experiences broadened. Do you want to speak out again because I can show you your boyfriend's contracts and all the ways I can ruin it." He nodded at Nathanial, "Go on, you two. Ladies, if you would follow Lyndsey she'll show you your own makeover stations, and as for you—" he narrowed his eyes at Blaine again, "—stay out of my way or else I'll ruin our superstar faster than this season can become last season. Do you understand me? You're a nobody. In my eyes, you have no opinion and nor should you ever speak out in my presence again. You're an insult to Vogue and I damn the day our superstar ever fell in love with a street rat like you." He tore his gaze away to shout, "Will _somebody _take care of this bird before I do?" He snuck a lasting glance at Blaine, "And take him with you!" Striding toward the door on the other side of the room, he slipped through it and slammed it behind him, leaving Blaine alone with Pavarotti to wonder just how far this Nathanial douche might take seeing Kurt lying naked on a table.

And if Kurt needed Blaine to come save him, when Blaine felt powerless to do anything without destroying Kurt's career.

* * *

Kurt pictured his life seconds from now as the calm before the storm. There wasn't much else for him to picture, since every time he vanished away inside of his own mind a betrayed painting of Blaine's washed out, soured face tainted him into believing that their perfect relationship was about to be dented beyond repair… all because of his suddenly stupid career choice. Sure, Blaine would never outright reject him for exposing himself to another man, but deep down Kurt knew that what would happen in the next hour would be the crossroad for his entire relationship with Kurt and what it meant to either of them.

To be honest, Kurt was scared.

He hated himself for choosing to wear such a revealing outfit that morning, and he hated Dakota Stanley for not understanding that he'd never been naked in front of anyone except Blaine before—besides his parents from when he was a baby—and most of all he hated the model behind him, the model who wasn't Blaine. Closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, Kurt blinked away the burning in his eyes that technically while he didn't have a choice, this still counted as cheating. _Layers!_ he screamed at himself, his cheeks burning, _Layers are in! Mini's and wedges are so out!_

Behind him a door clicked shut, and a pair of smooth, supple hands clamped over his shoulders, dragging the drop-shoulder sleeves of his belly shirt down even further. The shirt slumped. "I've heard rumors that you were so beautiful a man could be blinded at the sight of you," the model murmured silkily in Kurt's ear, "And I never believed them until I laid my eyes on you like this. No photo does you justice, sweetheart."

Kurt turned his face away from the man, crossing his arms over his chest and stonily replying, "I want you to take me back to the wardrobe room. Now. Let's not do this massage and say we did."

Nathanial chuckled humorlessly, "You're so tense, though. And a tense model never does good on the job. You're feisty, aren't you? I have to go get the rocks so get undressed and lay down on that table. Don't worry, I don't bite. Hard."

Numbly blinking, Kurt remained as still as a statue as the flirtatious model whipped out of the room and shut the door behind him. Once alone, Kurt blew out heavily and stroked a few fallen locks off his forehead, striding across the room and lowering onto the padded table. "I need you, Blaine," he whispered to his lap, chills settling over his skin despite the humid air at the thought of stripping himself down and allowing another man to touch him in any way he pleased. That was a right he'd always reserved for Blaine. Another man walking in and destroying that honor set aside for Blaine seemed devastating to Kurt. But plenty of people did this, right? Happily married men and women came in all the time and paid for full body massages from people they didn't know.

Now that he thought about it this sounded more like prostitution than an innocent, pleasuring spa day. He swallowed down a lump in his throat. "This is all wrong," he whispered to himself, "This man thinks I'm _sex._"

He glanced up from his feet and scanned his eyes over the room, hoping to catch _anything_ that appeared like a way out of this. Spotting a stack of towels across the room, Kurt jolted alive in hopes that this might be his very own escape and darted over to them. Maybe he couldn't wriggle his way out of this without losing his job… but he did have a right to his own body. And that lousy model had absolutely no place in seeing Kurt so exposed, not without Kurt going down without a fight, at least.

Jumping across the room and snatching a towel down from the shelves, he slipped his sore feet from his wedges and rubbed the raw, rash red indents against the soothing carpet then hooked his fingers through his skirt waistline, pushing it an inch down his hips then letting it fall to the floor. If Stanley was giving him so few options, Kurt was going to twist every single one of them. As long as the face in his doorway wasn't Blaine's—no matter _how_ beautiful it might be—Kurt was going to remain as he always had been before he even met Blaine… celibate.

After all, what was sex without love? If he knew one thing for sure, it was the empty void he never hoped to experience, because sex without love meant that another man's arms would be wrapped around him, and the eyes he'd be staring into as he would orgasm wouldn't be a fiery gold. And the name he'd be whispering in the man's ear wouldn't be the name he'd gotten so used to whispering. Not used to in the sense that it was an automatic habit… but used to in the fact that he'd finally given his laughable virginity to a man he loved, and if loving the man meant getting used to waking up beside the same body every morning, cooking to feed the same mouth every day, dressing up to go out on dates with the same date every time, he could be happy that way.

Because, unlike his former academy friends in France who snorted every time he flinched away from a flirtatious boy's hand or admitted that he'd never had one of those risky, secretive kisses under the stairwell, or that he'd never even held a boy's hand, he simply couldn't find the joy in sleeping on twenty different mattresses per week, not knowing the name of the man who lay naked on top of him, or never fully realizing how amazing a true relationship felt, where he could be himself to the fullest in front of the one man who served as his confidant, his pillow to hug to his chest when he needed to cry, his partner in crime to pull off schemes with, his therapist to run to when he needed to rant, the partner he could bicker with for two hours and still know that he'd be going to bed in a pair of strong, protective, forgiving arms, the lover who pushed him to his limits when it came to pleasure but never dared cross the line he somehow knew would make Kurt uncomfortable, and most importantly his best friend—even over Rachel—who he could tell every one of his secrets to without feeling judged, the best friend who'd seen him with his hair a wreck and nothing but a baggy sweatshirt and tear streaks on his body and still loved him no matter what… the best friend who he knew would never turn his back on him.

No matter what fights they dug themselves into or stressful situations that often broke couples up or even the distances between them, Blaine was always going to be there, with or without the sex, with or without the physical touch between them, and with or without knowing whether Kurt would be home from Paris in a year or ten years. And the thought that no matter what happened Blaine's face would be the first he would see stepping off of his private jet and onto Ohio turf after his time abroad, when he needed satisfied again by his family, his friends, the place he'd been born in, and Blaine, was a feeling that no other could compare to. No model, seducer, or even prince charming could convince Kurt that they were anything better than Blaine, who although wasn't flawless, had a worse temper than a bear's, grew easily defensive and was completely unsure of who he was and what lay ahead in his future, loved Kurt perfectly and beautifully, the exact way Kurt wanted to believe he would be one day, and in Kurt's mind true, romantic love stood above sex any day.

_I've waited eighteen years for you,_ he telepathically thought towards Blaine, _and cried every time my friends walked through the door with a new boyfriend or girlfriend on their arms. I've fought through loneliness and heartache, and sometimes I wanted held by a man so badly I would squeeze my pillow to my chest and imagine a pair of arms wrapping around me. Being lonely wasn't perfect, but meeting you was well worth the wait._

Kurt slipped the towel around his naked body, from his shoulder blades down to the middles of his full and curved thighs, and he glanced over his shoulder at the door. Spying its vacancy, he padded across the floor to the massage table again and lay flat on his stomach, closing his eyes and trying to imagine that it would be Blaine walking through those doors. Covered or not, he still felt exposed, and it sickened him.

* * *

If there was a time in Blaine's life when he actually missed the sweat scented halls and pencil shavings floating around in the air of McKinley High, where jock-strap-wearing, football-playing douche bags bred by the second and seemed to multiply day by day, and the most decent girls there were the aging, divorced history teachers who secretly imagined having affairs with their students—Puck, to narrow the choices down—now would be that time. In the office buildings of Vogue where he honestly felt like he'd been cast into a horror movie set of an endless maze, winding around and around with no finishing point, a maze where _he'd passed that office before_, and _hadn't he already seen that drinking fountain _thoughts drilled his mind, but one important thought had intoxicated him to the point that it drove him wild.

That Kurt was in one of these rooms getting a massage from a pervert model who was probably rubbing his hands into Kurt's tense shoulders that Blaine personally liked to rub himself, like they were his property or something, and hearing Kurt's tiny little mewls and moans he always made when Blaine was massaging him. He was probably peeling Kurt's clothes off of his skin and staring at the perfectly round shape of his firm yet soft buttocks, all the way down his shapely legs, then flipping him over and getting an eyeful of his unimaginably perfect front. Was the guy even touching Kurt the right way? Was he touching him too well? Had he discovered that the arch of Kurt's foot was one of his ticklish places? Did he know that the soft spot by his collarbone was too sensitive to be touched too firmly? What if the guy had found out about Kurt's quirky little turn-on spot, his belly button?

And what about Kurt? Was he secretly enjoying the massage? Was he letting the guy know out loud that he liked it? What if he didn't like it? What if he was crying out for Blaine right at that moment? How was Kurt handling the exposure in front of the man? What if Kurt liked the massage so well that he dumped Blaine on the spot? Blaine most definitely wasn't prepared for that. Suddenly an image flashed in his mind of a nude, smiling Kurt reaching up for the model—_Nathanial_; Blaine abruptly noticed with a grimace how stupid a fancy, pretty boy name like that sound—and pulling his head down to his, _"We don't have to tell anyone,"_ Kurt whispered in a hush toned in Nathanial's ear, slipping a hand around his neck, _"My pleasure can be yours. Blaine won't find out… trust me."_ Kurt tilted his head up and brushed his face against Nathanial's, his lips locking with the model's as he pulled him down on top of him, and a throaty giggle escaped his throat—

Blaine stopped walking, his head whipping around in paranoia. "I have to find Kurt," he whispered to himself, but Pavarotti, who was perched on his shoulder, overheard his comment and twittered in agreement, his head bobbing up and down. Frozen with no clue of where to turn or even what floor he should have been on in order to find _his_ lover, Blaine stepped forward hoping to find one of those _You are here!_ maps _somewhere_ in this fifty story, stuffy, cramped building, overflowing with people coming at him in all directions. _Baby, where are you?_ he thought weakly, about to cave to his knees in despondent hopelessness. There was no way he could stop Nathanial from happening.

Swallowing down a breath, Blaine whipped around and began to retreat in the direction he came from, slipping through a crowd of stiff, polyester designers scattering around with piles of paperwork in their hands and words like _Prada_ and _Chanel_ slipping off their tongues. Just another face in the crowd—probably even less than that—Blaine sidestepped a woman rushing past who made no move to so much as acknowledge Blaine's existence.

_Maybe this massage will be a good thing, _he attempted telling himself while he dug his fingers into his palm, immediately scratching bloody spots to the surface. The cool air nipping at the wounds stirred him alive, his mind trapped in a calm fantasy that refused to wrap around the fact that Kurt was somewhere nearby in another man's arms. He wanted to feel something, to know that he was still there, that he wasn't simply an illusion cursed to walk among the physical. _Maybe Kurt _does _need to spend time around other men. _After all, he'd never seen a relationship before where one side of it was so pure and innocent. Maybe this was a sign to let Kurt go for a while, and see where he ended up and if, in two weeks, he'd be standing at Blaine's door again.

Maybe this was fate's way of telling Blaine that he never deserved someone so beautiful and untainted.

The thought of leaving Kurt, though, and knowing where he would end up, destroyed Blaine. He wanted Kurt for his own, and knew that no other man would ever know Kurt the way he did. They would never be able to duplicate the relationship he had with Kurt, for one thing considering the fact that Blaine had taken his virginity and no other man would have that honor, but… it wasn't just the relationship they had. It was the fact that they were best friends, and always would be, relationship and sex or not.

Spying a bathroom at the end of the hallway, Blaine considered his chances of getting away with hiding in there until the end of the day. Maybe he could just lock himself in there, take a nap, and wake up to find that Kurt had needed him when he wasn't around. He'd done everything he could, demanded answers from high-paid designers who saw right through him and didn't even answer his question, and he'd wandered what felt like the entire building at least ten times. From what he could see, Kurt had vanished off the face of the earth with Nathanial. The thought sickened him, and for a second he almost _did_ needthe bathroom to run and hide in, to bend over the toilet as what little breakfast he'd eaten that morning poked and prodded at his throat again. A hateful image of Kurt locking lips with the douche bag model flamed inside of his head again, and suddenly there was no doubting that he needed a bathroom.

Clamping his hand down on his throat as he gagged, wishing his mind to flame torch that image burning inside of his head, Blaine darted forward toward the bathroom to empty his stomach and then collapse on the floor. It seemed like his best option. Maybe they would all forget about him, and if he got lucky he could just curl up in a fetal position and wait for some janitor to mistake his pathetic body for garbage. It'd be better than facing Kurt head-on, and know that there was a wall between them after what he was put through with Nathanial—whether Kurt had enjoyed it or not, that fact could be dismissed at that point.

Somewhere in the back of his head a ringing blared in his ear drums, deafening him, and he thought that maybe it was the sound of his own mental screaming from being forced to witness that image over and over, Kurt pulling Nathanial down on top of him with a high pitched giggle. Weakened, Blaine stumbled straight into a frozen editor, who for a second didn't bother to push him back. Hot air clamped around his head, squeezing him lifeless as he thought that at that moment Kurt probably had his legs twined around Nathanial's waist, whispering to him that Blaine didn't have to know, what Blaine didn't know wouldn't hurt him, that it was okay to keep secrets. The walls around him wriggled, slowly grinding across the floor to box him in, to keep him from even searching for Kurt.

"_He doesn't have to know,"_ a high pitched voice whispered flirtatiously in his ear, _"I don't know what I ever saw in him compared to _you_. You're blond, tall, and handsome… exactly what I wanted in a man. He has imperfections right and left, and he's _such _a turn-off. We both have the same dream—while he doesn't dream anything. Who knows, maybe we can move to Paris together and do a half-naked photo shoot. Or maybe we just won't have any clothes on at all. I feel comfortable with you."_

An anxious noise slipped from Blaine's lips, and he thought he whispered _no,_ but for some reason the screamed refusals sounded distant, in another world, but he wasn't sure if that was a side effect of him wandering around so woozily or if he was even making those sounds. Abruptly another high pitched scream tore through the air, and an editor nearby him twitched, as though they had heard it, too. _It's not in my head,_ Blaine managed to think, glancing up and in the direction the editors had turned their heads, their eyes shiftily blinking in curiosity as to what they could possibly do, leave their work stations and help whoever was screaming, risking getting fired by Stanley, or ignore it and hope the person was just being a drama queen.

"_No!_" an audible cry surfaced from down the hallway, "_Stop!_ Please!"

On Blaine's shoulder Pavarotti twittered, his feathers fluffing up like a miniature cotton ball, and at the sound of another cry the bird chirped noisily at Blaine, and without pausing he hopped down from Blaine's shoulder. He landed on his good foot and balanced himself out, then tilted his head up to twitter at Blaine again. In seconds he darted through a woman's feet, heading toward the hallway and Blaine snapped out of his sickly daydreams to swiftly follow after the bird in fear that someone might step on him. "Pavarotti!" he blurted out at the bird, shoving past an editor returning to her chair and muttering something about bad publicity. "Pavarotti, _wait!_"

The bird ignored him and skittered into the hallway where the screaming had emerged from, his twig-like legs marching determinedly across the carpeted floor. Blaine caught up with Pavarotti after being spat out from the hordes of people standing at the end of the hallway whispering, and he bent down to snatch the bird into his hands. Pavarotti released a noisy twitter and nipped Blaine's thumb, for the first time aggressively. Blaine almost dropped the bird he was so shocked to find a drop of blood already surfacing on his skin. "Pavarotti!" he scoffed in disbelief, "What the hell has gotten into you? You've never acted up before—"

Pavarotti twittered and flapped, craning his neck around to where a door suddenly flew open at the end of the hallway and a boiling, six-foot-three-inch man stormed out of it, what looked like a reddened slap mark across his face the only flaw about the blond man. He carried a bucket of steaming rocks in his hand, and as he passed Blaine he whipped around, revealing himself to be Nathanial, the model's beautiful face tarnished by a glow of hatred. He abruptly shoved the rocks into Blaine's hands, his body steaming, "I don't know who the hell you are but _you_ work with him because _I_ can't! But just so you know _I'm_ taking the credit!" He whipped away from a stunned Blaine, muttering words like _most difficult model_ and _what the hell Stanley is thinking._

Nathanial turned a corner sharply, leaving Blaine in the total dark as to what the hell had happened. He jerked alive as the bucket in his hands scalded his palms, so he quickly set the rocks down and rushed down to the finally silenced room at the end of the hallway. "Kurt?" he questioned as he ran down the hall, "Kurt, baby, are you in there?"

A satisfied Pavarotti climbed up Blaine's sleeve and returned to his perch on Blaine's shoulder as if nothing had ever happened, and Blaine threw open the door a little wider to find himself in a plain, white room with nothing but a table in the center. Blaine's foot tripped over a pile of clothing in the doorway but he swiftly righted himself, glancing down at a shed, strawberry red skirt and skimpy top with a pair of wedge heels resting by them. Blaine quietly prowled deeper into the room when he spotted a white, small pair of feet from his view of under the table. He jerked his head up and his eyes fell upon a seemingly tiny and helpless Kurt in the corner of the room, a white towel bunched around his body. Curled as tightly in on himself as possible, Kurt's arms wrapped around his knees, his face buried in his lap as his entire body trembled.

"Holy shit," Blaine whispered under his breath, having never seen Kurt look so vulnerable and small before. He crossed the room without missing a step, but Kurt, who hadn't been expecting company, cried out softly at the sound of Blaine's shoes on the floor, and with a flinch he buried his face even deeper into his lap. Blaine almost didn't know what to do for about two seconds, as even at times of being harassed by Karofsky Kurt had always had at least one wall of protection up around him. Seeing him curled up on the floor with only a towel to hide his naked body jolted something in Blaine, as though for the first time looking at Kurt when no defenses were up and he appeared almost _too_ fragile. Only when Blaine and Kurt made love did Blaine ever witness Kurt so exposed, and the thought that another man had frightened him to that point both broke his heart for Kurt and pissed him off about Nathanial. He made a mental note to let Pretty Boy have his own once he got through comforting Kurt.

"Hey…" He whispered soothingly to Kurt, reaching his hand out and resting it on Kurt's knee, "Hey… baby, it's me. Kurt, look at me. Nathanial is gone. Sweetheart, tell me what he did—"

Kurt hesitantly uncurled himself from his tiny ball of defense, his head lifting from the wall his thighs made against Nathanial. Tear streaks painted the curves of his cheeks, his lips moist and reddened from the salty water dripping onto him, his eyes bright and turquoise. He looked beautiful, and Blaine swallowed down a thick lump in his throat that another man had seen him the way only Blaine had before. After a moment of staring blankly at Blaine, fresh tears swelled in Kurt's eyes and he lunged forward to capture Blaine's neck in the loop of his arms. The towel fell two inches, revealing his perfect chest, and he burrowed his face in Blaine's neck as tears leaked from his eyes.

Winding his arms around Kurt in automatic response, Blaine clutched Kurt to his chest and rubbed soothing circles on his back, his brain still in shock over what that douche bag could have done to bring Kurt to this position. "It's okay," Blaine whispered mindlessly, pressing his lips to the crown of Kurt's head, "I'm here. I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere. Shh… Everything's okay. You're okay. Sweetheart… What did he do to you?"

Kurt shook his head, pressing himself as deep into Blaine's chest as their bodies would possibly allow, and he whispered meekly, "Please, don't g-go. He frightened me, Blaine. I told him that I wanted to leave this towel on but then he tried ripping it off of me and I told him not to touch me. He yelled something… I couldn't really understand and he said that I was the most difficult model he'd ever worked with and for being so beautiful I should have acted like the… the…"

Blaine brushed his fingers under Kurt's chin to nudge his face up toward his, "The what, baby? What did he tell you?"

Kurt licked his lips, flushing uncomfortably, "Well, you know how we were watching Jersey Shore last week? And how Mike called Snooki that one name? Nathanial told me he expected me to act just like that, instead of the prude I was."

Blaine's face blanched, and he echoed, "He told you that because you were beautiful you were supposed to act like a tramp instead of a _prude?_ What else did he tell you, Kurt?"

Blinking several times to clear his eyes of the last of his tears, Kurt whispered, "He tried to kiss me… and I slapped him. I've never slapped anyone before. And then he left. He was horrifying, Blaine! It's like he thought of me as a shallow, snobby superstar and I'm _not._ Well… I hope I'm not. Do I act that way?"

He sighed and nuzzled Kurt's face with his, wondering what he might do the next time he came face to face with Nathanial. The least bloody and brutal thing he could think of was tearing his pretty boy face off, and the ideas only went downhill from there. "No, baby," Blaine muttered, "you're _not_ any of those things he said. You're not a prude, you're not shallow and you're most certainly not a tramp. He was upset that he couldn't have you. If you haven't noticed, Kurt, you do turn heads. You're beautiful, angel, and even though your beauty isn't something to be ashamed of, the kinds of men that it can bring in are. For every beautiful person, there are usually ten assholes waiting to pounce—me included."

"I don't think so," Kurt shook his head, his eyes round and innocent, "I don't think you're as horrible as you make yourself out to be. You're nothing like the other men who have come onto me. You're kind and gentle and you've never insulted me. You've never tried to hurt me. I love you. Tell me you love me back."

Blaine's lashes fluttered shut, and he wearily smiled as Kurt stroked his fingers over his cheeks, "You know I do," he whispered in Kurt's ear, "You don't have to ask for me to tell you that I love you. I always will—that'll never change. Even if Nathanial _had_ seen you in less than the towel or if another guy kisses you, I would and will still love you. But… not that I _want_ other men making your body out to be anything less than perfection that needs adored and loved the right way. You thrive on being loved and romanced, Kurt, and I never want any man to make you feel less than that. You understand? No matter what happens," Blaine leaned in for a brief kiss, then parted their lips with a soft pop, "you'll always be mine and I'll always belong to you. I promise."

Suddenly, the door cracked open and Kurt's head popped up from the protection and warmth that Blaine's chest offered, and his mouth fell open at the sight of a glowering Nathanial pressing an ice pack to his swollen cheek and Dakota Stanley, whose mouth mocked Kurt's in dropping even further to the floor. "Monsieur Stanley!" Kurt blurted, prying to get to his feet and hold the towel up at the same time. Blaine realized what Kurt wanted and immediately released him. "I can explain everything and I'm so sorry—"

Stanley held his hands palm up toward the ceiling, his mouth still gaping open, "Superstar," he murmured, "what's going on? You're eighteen now—exposing you to real men shouldn't be a problem, should it? Poor Nathanial figured you out pretty fast, didn't he? His cheek is ruined now. Do you see his cheek? I'm going to have to fire him now because I can't have a swollen model running around."

Nathanial whipped around to face Stanley, "Wait, what? You never said that! This isn't my fault! If anything, you should fire _him_!"

Stanley waved him off like an unpleasant smell, "You're ruined now, don't you see? So I'm saying it now—you're fired. Go away." He returned his kind eyes back to Kurt, his expression almost too pleasant. Kurt would have preferred getting screamed at to being cooed over then heartlessly cast onto the streets. "Superstar, this better not be a habit with you. Tomorrow you'll be modeling with over twenty Calvin Klein models. If you have a phobia of them, speak now."

Kurt remained silent for a moment, his lips trembling, "Please, I _need_ this job. You don't understand, Monsieur Stanley. I can change this, I just don't want to be left alone with another model. Please."

Again, Stanley flicked his fingers through the air, "Yes, yes. I can accommodate your needs if you accommodate mine. Everyone wants _you_ on the cover of our December edition. You're far too irreplaceable. Come with me, we need you in hair and wardrobe in ten minutes." His eyes zeroed in on Blaine, who was beginning to rise to his feet behind Kurt, "But you stay here. You've done quite enough. Another outburst from you and I'll fire him. I don't think you want that, do you, bush baby?"

Blaine reached up for his heavy curls and stroked them self-consciously, their lifeless ringlets sliding through his knuckles as Stanley lunged for Kurt and yanked him out the door, Kurt swinging back around briefly to call after Blaine. His desperate plea for saving was cut off by the slamming of a door, just like something slamming down inside of Blaine's heart. Something that Blaine knew might have been permanent, or at least something few people in the world could fix—and the main one probably already down the hallway, his mind a million other places besides Blaine, and while Blaine wanted to be Kurt's greatest supporter, he couldn't help the lump in his throat that while he was stuck here… Kurt was surrounded by those models, flashing lights, cameras, makeup artists, stylists, paparazzi and Dakota Stanley.

It wasn't that Blaine was jealous of _Kurt._ He never wanted the stress of being a celebrity like Kurt. He was jealous of the rest of them, who would be a part of Kurt's life at all times, leaving Blaine to fade out like one of Kurt's Prada bags. Once used, never to be touched again.

The idea of it terrified him.

* * *

Rachel blinked at the half-dead man collapsed on the floor with a tiny bird twittering at his drained, ashen face, the man's fingers numbly stroking the bird as though it were the only thing keeping him from curling up in a fetal position and quietly waiting for something to consume him—either death or the heartache he felt that he could be losing Kurt. She'd never seen this side of Blaine before, and she'd almost be willing to pay her life away to get the old Blaine back, the one she knew to stride down the halls with a Slushie in his hand, his fiery eyes perky with his gaze locked on his most recent kill, his skin flushed and bright with the exhilaration that came in a package with bullying.

She had never realized before that Blaine did have true emotions.

Around Karofsky, he had always been a shallow hologram, so transparent and simple-minded that the thrill of destroying another person had always seemed to satisfy him. Now that she was seeing him so destroyed himself, she could see Blaine fully, as a three-dimensional human being in front of her, a human being who was suffocating under the fact that his relationship with Kurt was forever teetering, either dealing with him and his celebrity world… or that in seven and a half months he'd be losing Kurt permanently. She hated the aching in her heart, the need to soothe him and tell him that everything was going to be fine, but she couldn't just think of him as when he'd been Karofsky's clone. It was obvious to her now that he'd changed and legitimately wanted the best of everything for Kurt, even if it meant forfeiting his own happiness.

If she knew anything about Blaine that wasn't a guessing game to her, it was that there was never quite another man like Blaine around. He seemed to be a one and only.

Pushing open the door farther, Rachel padded inside and Pavarotti glimpsed around, his beady eyes blinking at Rachel. He twittered and flapped at her, then hopped closer to his bullet shot owner and pressed his head up against Blaine's cheek. Blaine motionlessly replied with a single blink, a tear streak glazed across his skin and onto the carpet, where a dark spot had embedded itself into the million dollar fabric.

"Blaine?" she whispered, carefully dropping to her knees in front of him. "Blaine, are you okay? The girls and I are done being judged—that stupid Stanley didn't pick any of us. He said we each looked like we'd been run over by bulldozers before we got here. He decided to do an extra shoot with Kurt instead… you know, to fill in the extra space in the magazine. We wanted to know if you'll go out to dinner with us. Kurt's in an interview with US Weekly. Come on, it'll be our treat."

Blaine briefly shook his head, his entire body nearly too exhausted to even twitch, "No… I want to be left alone." Had Rachel been approached in a state like this, she'd have herself wrapped around her rescuer and weeping out her sob story in seconds—she had to give Blaine, as a boy, respect for keeping his mouth shut about his personal struggles.

Rachel touched his powerful shoulder, shocking herself at the thick layer of muscle under his wrinkled button-up. _That _was the body he kept hidden under baggy sweats all the time? Damn. Of course, she had seen him naked last night, but at the distance she was standing and the very surprise coursing through her, she hadn't really had a chance to see what kind of body Blaine undermined with thick sweatshirts, sweatpants and DC shoes. _Leave it to Blaine to have a gorgeous, nine-point-five out of ten body then cover it all up with the most unattractive clothing of all time._ She ignored the attracted and curiously interested part of her that had surfaced while they dated, in order to grumble, "_Blaine._ I know you're upset that Stanley won't let you near Kurt and he's with all of those models, but you can't just lay in here all by yourself and wait for someone to come find you—"

"I have Pavarotti," he muttered, and the yellow bird chirped in response, fanning out his wings. "Rachel, you don't _get_ it. You have no idea what I'm going through and you never will. Do me a favor and get the hell out."

Rachel's face burned as though he'd slapped her instead, and, rather than let him add insult to injury, she dragged herself back up to her feet and blinked away a burning shield of tears in her eyes, "You know, Blaine, one day you're going to need my friendship. You're not the school bad ass anymore. You don't have a fan club that only supported you because they were terrified of you. It's time for you to wake up and see that you're completely alone. Without Kurt, what the hell would you have? Think about _that_ before you try pushing me away."

Shakily Rachel retreated toward the door, her aching heart swollen and bruised. And the feeling of Blaine staring after her as she left didn't help lift her spirits. It only dragged her down into the deepest pits of darkness, where she knew a secret that no one else did… and she swore that the secret would be the death of her.

* * *

Blaine breathed in the air freshening scent of burning candles and roses in full bloom, his bare feet sinking into the soft carpets under him. Glancing toward the clock on the wall that stated it was a quarter until eleven, Blaine considered how completely spent and exhausted he felt, and if he could he would have simply fallen to his knees on the spot and slept on the floor. The extra ten steps to the bed seemed almost impossible with his leaden feet. The girls in the other room, in mourning from their wasted day, had already gone to bed and silence wafted through the door combining the rooms, pregnant with the overwhelming disappointment all of them had gotten into the limo with.

Supporting Kurt in his time of need nearly ran him dry of all of his energy, of sitting in Unique's office playing a game on Unique's computer for a good three hours, until Kurt had emerged in the doorway looking raw and abused. His eyebrows had been rash red from a recent wax, his lips puffy from a stylist pinching them time and again to plump them up, a dark bruise on his arm from where his stylist had accidentally burned him with a straightener, his cheeks hollow and dark bruises rimming his usually bright and cheerful eyes that had burnt out of all of their color, like a light bulb gone bad. And the process would start all over again at three in the morning in just over four hours, when Kurt would have to awaken and ready himself to face a good ten hours under the camera lights, of posing and not even breathing, of speedy outfit changes and having half naked men climbing all over him.

For the first time ever, Blaine claimed guilty to misjudging the pain models went through to appear on the covers of magazines. And even Blaine, who hadn't even been tossed around like a child's play toy all day, felt close to being willing to sleep for at least twenty hours and still feel tired. He couldn't imagine how Kurt felt.

After a fifteen minute, scalding shower that still didn't soothe his cold, aching bones, Blaine padded across the carpet not bothering to worry if he dripped water onto it. Naked and exposed, Blaine climbed weakly onto the bed and instantly reached for the other form on it, when he realized that Kurt, who was still fully dressed in his day clothes, had fallen sound asleep the second his head hit the pillow. A weary smile curved Blaine's lips at the sight of his small, beaten face burrowed into one of the pillows, his skirt twisted around his thighs and one shoe half fallen off of his foot.

He immediately dropped his weight onto his heels and lifted Kurt's limp body into his arms, pulling the belly shirt up over his chest. At the movement and shifting Kurt's brows furrowed, his lashes fluttering but, too shattered to do much arguing, his eyes squeezed shut and he tried to tune whatever was happening to him out. "Shh…" Blaine whispered comfortingly, "it's only me. Go back to sleep, angel."

Kurt easily complied and once Blaine slid the shirt off of his arms and over his head, he curled into Blaine's chest and his breathing instantly evened out, his lips slightly parted as his soft breaths filled the air. Blaine pushed Kurt's skirt and spankies down his thighs, and even in his state of eternal weariness his body still stirred slightly at the sight of Kurt's nudity. Despite everything, Kurt's angelic beauty always managed to get to him.

He pried Kurt's wedges off of his feet and ran his finger over the red indents left behind by the tight heels, then scooped Kurt into the cradle of his arms and peeled back the blankets. Depositing Kurt's body under them, Blaine writhed his way under them beside of Kurt, his arm looping around Kurt's waist as he lay his cheek on the pillow. Even Pavarotti snoozed peacefully beside of Kurt's head, his tiny body making the slightest of indents in Kurt's pillow. Blaine blinked to keep his eyes open, as watching Kurt in moments like these, he realized that even though those models at Vogue were disgustingly gorgeous and would spend a decent amount of time with Kurt over the next two weeks, none of them would ever be able to see Kurt in such exposed moments.

That was an honor that would always be preserved for Blaine… Well, at least for a while.


	26. Dog Days Are Over

Author's note: Hey, my wonderful readers. For once I have absolutely nothing to say or any explaining to do so I don't know if that's a yay kind of thing or not. This chapter is the photo shoot chapter and it doesn't have a lot of exciting scenes in it but Klaine is back to being a power couple! Anyway, I adore my ideas for the next chapter thanks to JMarieAllenPoe and I hope you all enjoy them! I'll have that chapter up by next weekend but for now... I wish Klainebows and happiness upon all of you while you read this!

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is this story line. Glee is still not mine and neither are Klaine, Pavarotti or Vogue (even though I wish they were)

* * *

"Pavarotti, be _quiet!_" Blaine bruised his chapped lips with the base of his finger, pressing it so deep into his skin that he thought he might permanently engrave it. His voice, hoarse from blurting out a mixture of _Pavarotti, hush! _or _You'll wake Kurt up, brat!_, had taken its daily toll within a half an hour, just from shushing a moody bird with more of a diva attitude than Madonna. Dunking his hands into the bucket of baby-skin lukewarm water filled halfway with a tiny, soaked bird painted a muddy yellow from the water in the center, Blaine smoothed his wrinkled fingers over Pavarotti's dripping feathers and Pavarotti spastically shook his feathers out at the trickling water from Blaine's fingertips.

He twittered vociferously up at Blaine, completely ignoring Blaine's pleas, and ducked his head down into the pool of water again. Emerging for a breath of air, Pavarotti chirped and shook himself off again, his feathers fluffing out. Behind him Kurt mumbled lowly, and Blaine glanced over his shoulder to spy Kurt shifting onto his side as one arm slid up onto the pillow, curling his knees up and drifting back into his deep sleep. Blaine returned his eyes to a bobbing Pavarotti for a maximum of two seconds before a shrill ringing crept into the air, muffled only by a desk drawer. "Shit," Blaine whispered to himself, drawing his hands out of the water. He glimpsed around for a place to dry them—anywhere except on his black dress pants he'd chosen in hope of earning the respect of his boyfriend's manager he needed to get by these next two weeks.

Finally, he simply decided to shake them off and hope his phone could live through a little water, then pointed at a twittering Pavarotti still flapping his wings around in his own little pool, "Stay. I mean it." Pavarotti chirped at his command, his tail feathers wiggling in ecstasy at his pampering. Before Kurt could awaken, Blaine lunged across the room and threw open the bedside table drawer, mentally swearing at whoever had the audacity to call him at two thirty in the morning.

Flipping open his phone, he hissed into it, "Hullo?"

"Hey!" a cheerful voice shouted through his phone, and he winced at his brief deafness as he walked back to where Pavarotti was nipping at his bath water, "I was worried you might not pick up. What are you doing up at—Oh. Wait. You're not… you know… with… Kurt? …Are you?"

Blaine furrowed his brows, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he trickled water onto Pavarotti's puffed out chest, ignoring the bird's playfully nipping beak. "Coop? What the hell are _you_ doing up now? No, I'm not…" he hesitated a beat, swallowing down a thick lump, "…with Kurt. He's asleep. I'm in New York right now, for Kurt's modeling career. If you're interested I'm actually bathing a bird at two thirty in the morning."

Coop chuckled at Blaine's blunt tone, "Of all the things to be doing in New York at two thirty in the morning you're bathing a bird? I'm glad to see you haven't changed, Blaine. _I_ just got back to my hotel from my last meeting of the night—I'm _exhausted_ but this is the only free time I'll have for about another week so I figured I'd call you. How are you doing, Blaine? I haven't spoken to you since that day… that you got disowned and I'm really sorry, but my career has me _pinned down_ at all times. Where are you living? Like I said before, my California home is open for business."

Blaine's lips smirked helplessly against the cradle of the phone, and he smoothed his thumb over Pavarotti's damp head lovingly as the bird twittered curiously at him. "I'm doing alright. I moved in with Kurt and I'm getting ass loads of shit about it at school, but, you know, I finally feel like I'm home there. Burt's become more of a father to me than Dad ever was and Kurt is…" He glimpsed briefly over his shoulder at the sleeping boy curled up into a ball on the bed, and the smile didn't waver once, "Kurt's perfect, Coop. He's exactly what I needed."

"The kid's an angel," Coop agreed softly, "Tell him good luck with his next photo shoot and that I'll be watching for it in the magazines. I'm glad you're doing good, Blaine. You've been my biggest concern ever since Dad disowned you. Anyway… Do you have a second? I was wondering if we could talk—you know, since some things have… changed."

Blaine lips tugged into a frown, and he rubbed the corner of a cloth over Pavarotti's wings, "Yeah, I have a bit. What's going on?"

Cooper cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Well… nothing _now._ But, Blaine, I was wondering if we could discuss the baby. You know how I told you it'd probably only be a few months to a little less than a year that you'd have the baby? Well… Now that shooting is in India and I'll be gone for three years… Blaine, you're the only person in the world I'd trust to care for my baby for that long. Besides Kurt. I'd probably be okay with giving it to him. And… And I know that's a long time and babies are a lot to handle and your early twenties are your best years to be cramped down with a baby, but, Blaine, I'll pay you if I have to. Unless you want me to ask Kurt?"

His phone nearly slipped from his hand. Stunned by the very proposition of it, Blaine considered all of his options. There was no way he could turn Coop down, right? But… by the time Coop took the baby back he'd be a toddler, and Blaine would be twenty two years old. And he wasn't even sure where he would get the money to support a baby. He couldn't just keep mooching off of Burt, especially if Kurt did leave. The idea of it seemed pathetic, living in the house of his boyfriend's dad even if Kurt wasn't there, and not only that but Burt had to be close to retirement age. With his heart problems he needed to slow down, and it wasn't even like the money from an at-home car business could _start_ to pay for the life of a baby. And if Blaine didn't go to college, there was no way he'd get anything more than a job at the Lima Bean for minimum wage, and someone had to be home with the baby.

Sensing Blaine's debating silence, Coop seemed to read his mind and announced, "I'll give you money. If you agree I'll give you fifteen thousand a month. And if you need more, all you have to do is ask. You're my brother, Blaine, and this is the biggest favor I've ever asked of anyone. Three years is a long time to be raising someone else's baby. And once I take the baby back, I swear that I'll get you into the finest college you can ask for and pay it all off for you. Whatever you'd want, Blaine… I'd be totally in debt to you. Please? Can I count on you? Blaine, I _can't_ ask Mom and Dad. After seeing what they did to you… I can't subject my own kid to that. Please tell me you can do this for me. I'm really desperate here."

Blaine distractedly noticed Pavarotti, in aggravation, stretch his neck out and clamp down on Blaine's sky blue button up, and Blaine automatically jerked his arm back without thinking. A seam of his shirt tore off, an unraveled string caught in Pavarotti's beak, and Blaine swore out loud. Coop's shocked voice unsurely murmured, "Well… I mean, I don't _have_ to give the baby to you—"

"No," Blaine grumbled, instantly pulling the string from Pavarotti's beak as he poked his tongue around it, anxiously trying to get it out of his mouth, so he didn't choke on it, "I-I wasn't talking to you. Pavarotti just tore my shirt and—dammit, can I call you back later? I need to think about this, Coop, and I'm in for a long day. I just… I need a few hours to think."

"Okay," Coop retreated immediately, relieved that Blaine was at least considering it, "Yeah, call me back around two-ish. That's my lunch hour. Whatever's going on today… I hope it all works out and thanks for thinking about it, Blaine. I know this all sounds like a lot so… give it some time and let me know. Oh… and Blaine?"

Blaine itched to snap his phone shut as he picked at his unraveled sleeve, but he managed to mutter, "Yeah, Coop?"

"I love you," Coop mumbled hesitantly. "I love you, okay? Even if Dad disowned you you'll always be my brother. I've gotta get going and it sounds like you have some stuff going on, too, so I'll talk to you in a few."

"Okay," Blaine grumbled, finally capable of throwing aside his phone and then instantly regretting not telling his brother he loved him back. After all, it wasn't Coop's fault most of this shit was going on. Well… except for the baby. But that was just Coop's inability to wrap a condom the right way. It most certainly wasn't Coop's fault Kurt's manager was a total asshole, and it wasn't Coop's fault that his fifty dollar shirt was torn, and it wasn't Coop's fault that he'd gotten less than three hours of sleep. It also wasn't Coop's fault that he had a good ten hours worth of a shitty day ahead of him, as much as he wanted to blame _someone_ for that. He decided to start by blaming those pretty boy models and Stanley for _that_, but not Coop.

Sighing explosively, Blaine glanced down at a twittering Pavarotti who had cowered down in his pool of water, his body quivering as though he'd sensed Blaine's aggravated tone after ripping his shirt. The anger and tension instantly washed out of his body at the sight of the terrified bird—obviously from memories of his past owner—and Blaine blew out heavily again, this time only out of sympathy instead of irritation. Smoothing his fingers over Pavarotti's back, Blaine cupped the tiny bird in his hand and brought him up to his face, and he kissed the top of Pavarotti's head. The bird chirped quietly, fanning his feathers. "No, I'm not mad at you," Blaine murmured, "I'm just frustrated with everything else. You're having as much of a hellish time as I am, aren't you?"

Pavarotti chirped at him and wriggled when he spotted Blaine lifting a small square of cloth, and he opened his beak at it. Blaine bundled it around the bird and rubbed it gently over the feathers, almost as if he were toweling off a baby. He headed back for the bed as he did so and lowered onto the edge, eyeing Pavarotti's small face with a newfound fascination, "You really are an interesting bird, Pavarotti. I'm sorry I left you with your old owner the first time. I thought you were dead, but I don't know what Kurt would have done without you. Or… Or me, for that matter. I love you just as much as he does. We're not that different, are we? It took both of us a long time to find someone to love us, and what we had before just wasn't that good, was it?"

Pavarotti chirped lowly and flapped his wings, so Blaine weakly smiled down at him and leaned toward him for another kiss to the top of his head. Suddenly, another gentle voice crackled wearily into the air, "I do love you both," Kurt whispered gently from behind him, and Blaine shifted around so he could face a sleepy Kurt, his eyes bright with shimmering tears. "I've never heard you talk to him like that before, Blaine. I always thought… he was just a bird to you. But he can be so much more than that—he's my best friend."

Kurt lifted his hand from the bed and held out a finger for Pavarotti to perch on, and Blaine peeled the cloth away in order to allow Pavarotti to hobble from the palm of his hand onto Kurt's finger. He twittered happily from his post, hopping from Kurt's hand onto the mattress where he nestled into Kurt's bare chest and his eyes shut. Kurt's eyes glittered at the bird, then rose to Blaine's face and dropped swiftly back to his sleeve. He giggled lightly, "That's nothing a little sewing won't fix, Blaine. Pavarotti didn't mean to rip it, he just wanted your attention. You're not upset with him, are you?"

Blaine shook his head sincerely at the tiny bird, leaning across the bed for a sleepy kiss from Kurt. The warmth of his lips under Blaine's and the soft pop that parted them helped Blaine's muscles relax slightly, and he remembered just why he put up with the stress of yesterday. "No, angel," he whispered and stroked Kurt's cheek, "I'm not mad at him. Mm… I could stay here and kiss you all day."

Lovingly Kurt stroked his fingers through Blaine's heavy curls, his lashes partially lowering over his lustily darkening eyes, "That's the most tempting suggestion I've heard in over a day. I wish we could, but luckily tomorrow is my day off while they edit the photo shoot pictures. Any smart man would want to go see a Broadway show tomorrow, but I like the idea of staying here and spending the day snuggling with you. I feel _exhausted._"

Chuckling lowly, Blaine helped Kurt flip over onto his stomach and gripped down on his shoulders, his fingers kneading into Kurt's pale skin. "Baby, you _are_ so tense. If you _wanted_ to stay here and snuggle I wouldn't object. There isn't anywhere else in the world I'd rather be than in your arms, to be honest. I'm as tired as you are and I didn't even _do_ anything. I can't imagine how you feel—"

"Oh," Kurt gasped into his pillow when the heel of Blaine's palm glided over the bottom of the nape of Kurt's neck, "please… that spot again. I'm _so_ sore there. I swear, all I did yesterday was either stare into a mirror while someone did my hair or stand in front of Stanley modeling his outfits or go to at least ten interviews for magazines. And today I'll be doing all of that all over again—only this time with camera lights flashing in my eyes and models climbing all over me. Broadway had better be worth all of this."

"Don't worry," Blaine nuzzled the rim of his ear, palming Kurt's nape, "You're going to stun a million people out there with how wonderful and brilliant and beautiful you are and then you'll be able to do anything you want with your life. I promise. I've never seen anyone with as much drive as you have. You could take a rag and turn it into a ball gown. You never fail to amaze me, Kurt."

Kurt turned his head to the side and revealed his smirk, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Blaine Anderson. You know something? The day we climbed that tree together and my dad took all of those pictures of us… I felt like a million bucks, Blaine. And now that I'm here… in the place where a million other people want to be, Vogue corporations modeling for a billion dollar magazine… I suddenly feel so drained. This isn't fun for me, Blaine. Some of my hair stylists were kind, but Monsieur Stanley just doesn't understand how _I_ feel and the models all seem so shallow and two-faced. They show one side to Monsieur Stanley, and then flirt with me and come onto me the second he's gone and I… I really wish I was doing this photo shoot with just you. I miss you. Yesterday I wanted you at my side so much that I almost cried, but Monsieur Stanley is at his breaking point and I have no idea why he wouldn't want you around. You're a brilliant person, Blaine, and not having you yesterday was like… not having my heart. Because I left it with you, and I'm relieved you took care of it."

_Holy fucking shit._ Stunned, Blaine jerked his hands off of Kurt's bare skin and rolled to the side, landing on the empty space on the bed beside of Kurt's body. Kurt also blinked, evidently startled at the rejection, and he whispered uncertainly, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, babe," Blaine breathed, wincing at the flaming burn in his crotch, "you're doing everything _right._ I just… You turn me on so easily, Kurt, and I can't have quickies with you because you're so fucking beautiful and I want to stay inside of you for hours. Hell, Kurt… Sometimes I wonder what the hell I did to deserve you. That's what I needed to hear, Kurt… that you still love me as much as you did when we arrived here."

Kurt eyed him blankly, tilting his head to the side, "That I still love you…" he echoed quietly, his lashes fluttering, "Why would I not? You're the man I fell in love with—deal with the consequences that you'll _never_ get rid of me."

Blaine briefly smiled at Kurt's small, pretty face, his eyes round and unbearably beautiful, the color of the palest ocean in the morning, "Why would I ever want to get rid of you? You're the love of my life, Kurt. It's just… as a man I guess I got a little insecure, you know, with our relationship only being two and a half months in. I know that I'm a little on the shorter side and that my hair is longer than it should be and that my lips are always chapped but—"

Kurt's kind, gentle expression remained the same, his voice soft and high pitched, "You thought I wanted those buffoons I'll be modeling with? The only thing I wanted was to get away from them, silly! Blaine, those men were shallow-minded flirts who only wanted one thing out of me—and we both know what that was. If you think I found that attractive, the only thing I could think when I saw them was that their faces were ninety percent plastic and that I'd already given up my Barbie and Ken phase. Blaine, I love you—no matter what size you are or what length your hair is and…" Kurt demurely blinked his eyes, lifting up slightly to press his moist, curving lips against Blaine's, and he flicked his tongue out across Blaine's bottom lip, then drew back with freshly flushed cheeks. "Now your lips _aren't_ chapped. Blaine… I fell in love with _this._" His fingers pressed against Blaine's pounding heart, and he grinned at the discovery of Blaine's lusty, hard-on brought on by his own doing, "It just so happens that you turned out to be the most gorgeous man I've ever seen."

Blaine reluctantly turned his face away to hide his own burning cheeks, and he grumbled, "You're only saying those things, Kurt. I know I haven't done the best job to make myself look like a gorgeous model but… I understand if you do feel attracted to those men. I'd rather you didn't but I realize that sometimes you can't help who you're attracted to or—"

Kurt plopped back down on the pillows, his brows furrowing for the first time as he lay his cheek against his bent elbow under his head. He slid his fingers through Blaine's affectionately, "Blaine?" he whispered softly, "I promised myself to you. And not just with our promise rings. I promise you that no matter who I meet along the way or what might happen I'll remain celibate to any man who isn't you. Some people will be good looking, and some won't be. But no one except you will ever be good looking to _me._ Attractive men will be like attractive women to me now that I have you. I think Rachel is very pretty, but she's not… anything to gaze over or feel nervous about or sexually attracted to. And that's how I feel about those Calvin Klein models. I know you've been cheated on but, Blaine, I think you're forgetting that I was a virgin who'd never had a boyfriend before I met you. I'd never even held a boy's hand before I met you or seen another boy naked."

Arching his brows at Kurt's knowingly sincere expression, Blaine grumbled, "Am I really worth all of that, Kurt? That seems like a lot of struggle just for some asshole like me."

The smile tugged at Kurt's lips again, and he leaned forward to huddle against Blaine's chest, "You're worth_ everything,_ my love, and you don't even have any idea of that. It isn't a struggle at all—it's just me realizing how in love with you I am and that no one will ever compare."

Blaine finally lay back on the bed beside Kurt, satiated to finally relax his entire body at the realization that he and Kurt were going to be fine, just because he must have done _something_ to deserve such an angel. He had absolutely no idea what he did, but, hell, if he wasn't the most grateful man in the world that he'd done it. Because angels like Kurt were rare, and, honestly, the only one he knew of in existence was the one lying right beside of him. He was Blaine's own angel of love and light, in a world of darkness and gloom. Even with his state of weariness, ripped sleeve, and ten hours ahead of him of being insulted and ignored, Blaine had never been happier.

* * *

Kurt stepped off of the elevator feeling stronger than he had in weeks, like energy surged through his body, starting at his heart and ending at his fingertips. Blaine's supposed distance yesterday he'd been assuming and pondering over for at least a good twelve hours had all been confirmed by morning, and all for nothing. Kurt almost wanted to giggle over the silliness of Blaine's dreads, but he knew that they were important to Blaine and that he had legitimately been hurting over his thoughts that Kurt might want one of the Calvin Klein men more than him, when he couldn't have been more wrong. If one thing was for sure, he was ready to face the day.

Until his eyes widened in horror of the basement interior.

Unlike yesterday, when the underlying decoration had hinted at Christmas and the mannequins had featured all of those family-friendly Christmas edition Vogue outfits, Van Halen meets Alice Cooper draped the entire room, Britney Spears' Toxic pumping out of an invisible stereo. "What the hell…?" Blaine muttered from behind him, obviously drinking in the changes like an awful, toxic poison—the irony didn't cross Kurt as funny at all. Blaine's fingers slipped through Kurt's in a way that painted an image more powerful than just that they were a couple. An electric bolt shot through Kurt's fingertips, and Blaine must have felt it, too, because he squeezed Kurt's hand. Even surrounded by gorgeous men, both of them could claim that their loyalty and love for each other was as strong as ever, capable of taking every beating and coming out twice as readily as the last time. Kurt batted down a brief smile in favor of dropping his jaw at the entire room, his hand lifting to stroke Pavarotti comfortingly. The bird twittered on his shoulder in agreement.

Abruptly a guffaw drowned out Britney Spears' nasally singing, and Dakota Stanley emerged from a separate closet off to the side wearing a pair of tight, black pants and a ripped up wife beater. A chain dangled from his foot tall, rubber, combat boots. The sight was nearly as scarring as Rachel's nudist pictures, Blaine noticed with a grimace and shudder. He tossed his hands in the air, "Welcome, superstar! Do you like your new set up?"

Kurt remained planted at Blaine's side, their ribs brushing with every breath they took, "What… happened, Monsieur Stanley? Where is the Christmas theme? Isn't this a bit…?" Biting down on his lip, Kurt searched his head for a describing yet polite word though drew a blank.

"Scandalous?" Stanley suggested, fingering a skimpy, lingerie top on one of the models, "Yes. Change of plans, superstar. This is your new photo shoot. We were thinking Sandy from _Grease_ after she'd slapped on a cat suit. And of course our Calvin Klein models will be Danny _before_ he went soft. Christmas after Christmas is out. It's _stale_, like you will be if you don't get your act together. The thing is, Kurt, you dress like a little girl. Don't worry, all stars go through that phase. But… you're not sixteen anymore. You're a legal adult and you're going to start acting like it."

And with a snap of his fingers, Stanley managed to wipe out Kurt's confident stride and replace it with a mere limp. Blaine squeezed again to remind Kurt that he'd carry Kurt if he had to, even if Stanley managed to break both of Kurt's legs. Kurt licked his lips and reluctantly brought himself to face the outfits again, each of them like something out of a horror movie. He glanced down at his own outfit—a denim mini skirt with a pair of knee-high, buckle boots and a cut off white tee shirt halfway below his belly button with a dipped collar. "I dress like a little girl?" he whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek as though he'd been slapped. "Monsieur Stanley, I know that my style is a little more feminine but it doesn't mean that I'm opposed to wearing pants—"

Stanley held up his hand to stop Kurt, "This isn't about the style, Kurt, even though it needs work. This is about the fact that you're eighteen and still act like a prude. I have to get you past that if you want to make it in the modeling world. Madonna, Britney Spears, Beyoncé—do a single one of them dress or act like prudes? No. And how famous are they? Idols. _Grease,_ Kurt! Did Danny notice Sandy before she slapped on a cat suit? I don't think so." He raised his hands above his head and clapped twice.

In seconds another door across the room flew open and a herd of scantily dressed, six-feet-tall men piled into the room one after another. Beside him Blaine stiffened briefly, then glanced over at Kurt as if for confirmation that Kurt wasn't attracted to a single one of them. When Kurt blinked once at him to assure that he was more freaked out than anything, Blaine leaned into him and kissed the side of his neck for a split second, then returned his narrowed, cynical gaze to the models. The closest one to Kurt—another blond, like Nathanial—with what seemed like a twelve pack and a spray tan, was merely dressed in a pair of ripped up camouflage shorts and a pair of black suspenders. For two seconds no one in the room twitched, twenty half naked men and his manager up against Kurt and Blaine.

Stanley counted heads by mouthing out numbers with his lips then rocked on his heels, satisfied by the number, "You're lucky, everyone showed up despite Nathanial's vicious rumors that you were nothing more than a prude. I want hands, gentlemen. Who thinks I can make something sex-able out of him?"

Half the Calvin Klein models snickered, and three hands shot up while one man closer to Stanley muttered, "He already _is_ sex-able. Who else sees that ass?"

Kurt flushed bright red, backing up toward a wall to further cover himself. Stanley batted down the perverted comments with a sneer, "That's enough, all of you. Go back to your wardrobe room. Kurt, Lyndsey will see you over there at that hair station. We need to have you ready in an hour. I'm _relieved _that you didn't bring back your pesky little friends, but why would you bring him? He serves no purpose here other than to get under my feet!"

Parting his trembling lips, Kurt murmured boldly, "Because _I_ need him. And he's going to stay with me at all times or else I'll drop the deal and find a lawyer to talk to about Nathanial forcing himself onto me yesterday. I have a lot over you so don't make me act out."

Even Blaine's mouth fell open. _That_ he hadn't seen coming. Unsure whether to be flattered or worried about Kurt's sudden confidence burst in knowing that he and Blaine would love each other no matter what, Blaine numbly followed after Kurt as he strode over to the station Stanley pointed out, his stature that of a boy who had just been told he'd won the lottery. When all Kurt had really ever won was Blaine, Blaine wondered if Kurt truly felt like Blaine was the best prize of them all, or if he was just imagining things. Could someone really love him that much? Or was it all an illusion, just like his kingdom, one mistake away from crumbling?

* * *

Blaine spun himself back and forth in his chair, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he casually watched the other men in the room from under his lashes. It reminded him of watching a sexy version of the McKinley High hallways, the Calvin Klein models cracking each other's skin with the silky scarves laid out on the mannequins and blurting out noisy laughs at perverted jokes passed among them. In the corners a few of them leaned against the wall, and with every few passed seconds they'd spare a glance at Blaine then snort and snicker under their breaths. Part of him wanted to be pissed off and lash out at them, but then he remembered what he would be getting from Kurt that night that none of them ever would, and instead of showing them that they won he smirked right back at them. From the expressions on their face, he'd managed to confuse the hell out of them and that was a satisfying enough response.

While Kurt finished changing in his own personal dressing room that Stanley had made it very clear Blaine was not to enter, Blaine slumped into his chair again and lowered his gaze to Pavarotti, who gazed up at him with his beady eyes huge and bugging out of his head. Suddenly the bird twittered when under his feet Blaine's phone vibrated audaciously in his pocket, demanding his immediate attention. A few of the models alertly glanced at him, and Blaine wondered if they'd never heard a phone before or if they were just that interested in every move he made and why he was even there. Probably the second option.

Pulling it out of his pocket, Blaine flipped it open and held it to his ear after spying the caller I.D. "Coop? What's going on? I thought you said two." More models lifted their heads and gazed unblinkingly at him, and he sneered at the lack of privacy they had.

"I know," Coop panted, as though out of breath, "But my limo driver was late. I just had to run all the way to the back of this corporation building to catch a tacky, cramped limo to my next meeting. I'm so firing my limo driver! I figured we could talk now since I'll be running a little late for lunch. It's only been a few hours but have you thought about it at all? I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

"Only nothing, as usual," Blaine muttered sardonically, cupping Pavarotti in his palm and depositing him onto his shoulder, "Look, Coop… I _have_ thought about it. And… And I get it—what you're dealing with. I think we both know that my life is going nowhere—" At Coop's dismissive sound, Blaine interrupted, "Don't you dare tell me it's not, either. Cooper, we've both known this for a long time. So since I'll be doing nothing spectacular with my life these next few years, I'll take you up on your offer. I'll watch my nephew for as long as you need."

Every model in the room eyed Blaine with a newfound attentiveness at that point, but he swiveled around in his chair until he faced a wall and ignored them. Cooper sighed over the phone, the first part of his sigh in aggravation but the last part made of nothing but a wall of relief, "Blaine, I really wish you wouldn't act that way—like you're worthless. You know that you're not. Kurt knows that you're not. _I_ know that you're not, not that my opinion counts for much with you anymore. But… I'm really grateful you're willing to do this. You have no idea how thankful I am. I'll owe you everything once I take the baby back."

Blaine frowned against the phone, rolling his eyes at his brother's dramatic show of appreciation, "You won't owe me anything. I don't want anything. This is kind of a favor to me, too. Once Kurt leaves… all I'll have left is my nephew. I know I'm not that into kids, but if he's the only thing keeping me from being completely alone, I'll take it."

Cooper bitterly muttered, "There are times when I really worry about you. This is one of those. Look, Blaine, I get that you're going through a rough time… but you can't keep acting like it's you against the world. It's unhealthy and one day it's gonna catch up to you. I can't talk now but if you ever need to… email me, call me, do _something_, but, Blaine, I mean… the way you feel is serious. I don't want to be the famous, million dollar family whose youngest son pulls a Lindsay Lohan because his parents didn't love him when he was young. Okay? Promise me that if you ever reach a really dark place… you'll talk to someone. You'll get help. Blaine, promise me."

Blaine inwardly growled at his brother's nosy personality, glimpsing over his shoulders at the gazing models who seemed starstruck by Blaine, "I can't do this right now, Coop. I'm busy with… stuff. Look, you have what you need to know and let's leave it at that. Save the campfire-hand-holding-song for a day that I actually care to sit at a campfire and sing those songs with you—but not now."

After a moment of silence on Coop's part, Blaine instantly regretted lashing out at him, but he couldn't stand to have his personal life analyzed under a microscope by someone who'd shown no sign of wanting to care before. Why should they care now? What the hell had changed? Coop's voice lowered to a whisper, "'Kay, Blaine. I'll probably call you in a few weeks to update you on the baby. I know you're dealing with stuff but no matter what you do or say… I'll always love you, alright? You're my little brother. Sorry to be bugging you so much."

Quietly Blaine listened to the phone on the other side of the call click off, and silence suddenly met his ear. He wanted to chuck his phone at something in anger at himself, and in anger at Coop, and at those models for judging every move he made. He couldn't just cry like a baby begging his brother to forgive him for being an ass in front of the models. They would think he's weak and plow right over him, snuggling up to Kurt without a single care or worry that a menacing boyfriend was waiting just ten feet away. But when Coop said he'd call Blaine in a few weeks, he probably meant that he wouldn't be able to speak to Blaine until then—not read any apology emails or listen to his voicemail when Blaine felt like calling him and leaving twenty tearful messages telling his brother that he loved him, because Blaine did. And Coop was truly the only Anderson Blaine had ever loved. They weren't close by any means, but they had a certain brotherly bond between them where a moment of understanding could pass through both of them while they listened to their parents scream downstairs, and often times one or the other would go the other sibling's room and climb into bed beside him and simply embrace each other to stay strong.

It was all the strength they had when they were young, but then Coop moved away and Blaine met Karofsky, and Blaine grew even more distant from Coop, left to Karofsky's power to turn him into a scrap heap, which was exactly what he'd done. For the first time ever, Blaine realized something. He _was_ alone. Without Kurt around, he'd have no one. He missed his old friends, Finn and Puck, because despite everything _they_ had always been true to Blaine. Finn seemed to want to accept Blaine no matter what, and it was obvious that Puck wanted to think of Blaine as a brother again. After peeling away the girls and the cheating and Karofsky's influence on each of them, Blaine discovered that they really _had_ been brothers. But how could he possibly ask for them to take him back? That'd be like trying to perfect a piece of paper again after it'd been wrinkled. The damage was done, and there was no changing it back. What he'd done to all of them was unforgivable. He'd been an asshole, and it suddenly donned on him how little he deserved Kurt—if at all.

Kurt was an image of light to Blaine's darkness, an angel so untouched and pure while Blaine had slept with two of the biggest sluts in school, Santana and Quinn. He'd ruined himself, and how he ever thought it was okay to bring Kurt into his life he had absolutely no idea. Kurt belonged with a better man, one who had saved himself for Kurt and would treat him like gold, one untainted by scars and wounds and a horrifying past of unloving parents and hurting other people—being a puppet to a bully. Why had he ever taken Kurt's purity? Because he loved Kurt, he knew that for sure, but was love truly a good enough excuse? _What if Kurt had been meant for another man and I stole him from that man?_ Blaine thought as his face blanched, wondering if he'd been wrong to even approach Kurt.

But what other guy at McKinley could have possibly been made for Kurt? Jacob Ben Israel was most likely the only boy in the school who was still a virgin—for different reasons as to why he had kept his virginity for so long than Kurt, but he obviously wasn't meant for Kurt. Hank Saunders was the nicest guy Blaine could think of who mainly stayed out of the way and was an absolute theatre geek—even going so far as to stay in theatre after Sandy Ryerson touched him inappropriately and Rachel had blabbed it all over the school, but he was also a junior who had never even met Kurt. Joe Hart also seemed decent enough, yet his dreads probably had more grease in them than a car engine and he was far too involved with that God Squad to even consider him being gay—

Blaine's eyes flew open as the word mindlessly slipped out, that he couldn't consider Joe being _gay_ for Kurt. But what the hell did that mean for him, that just because he was with Kurt automatically made him gay? What if it was true, all of the harsh words, all of the whispers behind his back, and what if he was the one who was wrong? What if he'd been gay all along and didn't even know it? He considered all of the perks of dating a woman—a talker so Blaine wouldn't have to come up with the subjects, and… and that was about where his list ended. Now that he thought about it he'd never really liked long hair because it brought back memories of Santana making those disgusted little sounds then flicking her hair over her shoulder like she was so much better, and thinking about women having an easier way with pregnancies than gay men reminded him of Quinn. And the fact that, indeed, her pregnancy had been a little too easy and that he'd almost taken the blame.

But he couldn't be gay. There was absolutely no way he was gay because he'd always been strait. He liked masculine things—watching football, lounging around in sweats, and pigging out on junk food. Those were _guy_ things. But then again, he also got totally turned on by another boy. So where the hell was all of this supposed to lead him? Bi-curious, he decided at last. _I can be bi-curious. _Lots of guys were and they remained totally strait, right? Thousands of strait guys had sexy dreams with other men in them. So it was okay for him to be strait and have sex with another boy in reality, wasn't it?

Yes, he decided, it was.

Suddenly, a cashmere, frill top flew out of nowhere and brushed his shoulder before falling to the floor. Whipping around, Blaine glowered at the models and snapped, "Look, I get it that none of you like me but I don't see why throwing things at me makes you feel any better so piss off."

A brunette in front of the rest of the crowd stepped forward, and he muttered casually, "What is your name again?"

"Blaine," he sneered, sinking into his chair like a brooding beast.

"No," the brunette shook his head, "Your last. Is it Anderson?"

Blaine leaned back in his chair, startled by his direct guess, "Yeah. How do you know me if you've never heard my last name before?"

The model blinked at him, his face grave and serious, "Your brother is Cooper Anderson, then. You're one of the Anderson's. You're Richard Anderson's youngest son. He never talked about you but I've worked with Cooper before for one of his modeling shoots. He mentioned something about a brother and I swore his name started with a _b_ or something like that. I just had no idea you were him."

"Yeah," Blaine's brows cocked, "And?"

Another model shook his head in disbelief, "Dude, your dad is… like… a legend in the acting business. He's produced and sponsored more movies than Madonna has hit songs. Why didn't you tell anyone? Your brother and dad are the best!"

Abruptly, the door to the room swung open revealing Stanley and the sexiest model Blaine had ever laid his eyes on. "What's this about the Anderson family?" Stanley snapped at his models, who quieted down distractedly as Kurt meandered into the room, his eyes blankly set on nowhere in particular.

Kurt's hair had been coiffed straight down the middle and ruffled up to make it appear as though he'd been in a recent tussle, while his face glowed bright and pastel with his cheeks washed out of any color and a smudge of what looked like black coal dust on his cheek. His eyes, unusually electric, had been outlined by a black eyeliner, and a smear of sparkly, black eye shadow brought his eyes to life. His lips had been dusted with a blood red powder, and all of that in itself could have been enough to make Blaine come on the spot.

His torso had been wrapped in a faux-leather, strapless, black corset with white strings looped across the front, his stomach perfectly bare and his hips curved beautifully from the tightening of the corset. With a black glove on one hand that slowly unraveled as it twined up his arm until it reached his bare shoulder and the the other hand fixed with a fingerless glove that cut off at his wrist, black nail polish had been painted on to the tips of his showing fingernails. A silky, black mini skirt flirted with the tops of his thighs with a skull featuring scarf tied around his waist and dangling down to his knee, and a pair of knee high, five inch, rubber, black stick heels lifting him up. A piece of unraveled cloth had been tied around the showing skin on one leg to finish off the sexy-model-from-hell look.

Blaine briefly tore his gaze from Kurt, who appeared more bored than anything, and he glimpsed at the other models, a few of them teetering mindlessly forward until they nearly fell onto their faces from trying to get a close up of Kurt. Even though Blaine didn't blame them, he suddenly wanted to be very alone with Kurt. He'd never personally been a fan of the whole dark arts look, considering it too _Twilight_, but maybe he could change his mind just a little. Fuck, all the things he wanted to do to Kurt in that outfit. He wanted to make him scream so loud people in Antarctica heard him.

Kurt suddenly placed a hand on his hip and cocked a brow at Stanley, obviously questioning what his next move should be. The second Kurt looked away from them a few of the models snickered and elbowed each other, whispering about how smoking hot Kurt's ass looked in that skirt. _The assholes,_ Blaine sneered. Stanley snapped his fingers at the drooling models, "Gentlemen, tell me. Has Mr. Anderson contacted one of you? If so, I need to speak with him about my next photo shoot and if he'll still be sponsoring it."

One of the models shook his head, his eyes still glued to an oblivious Kurt who eyed Blaine from across the room, giggling while Blaine mouthed to him how sexy he looked. Despite his new outer appearance, he was still Blaine's adorably giggly Kurt on the inside. And Blaine loved that. "Sir, Blaine is Richard's son," the model divulged, and Blaine frowned as all the attention that was on Kurt which Kurt knew from training how to deflect without batting a lash switched over to Blaine. "He's an Anderson and he didn't tell anyone. He just got off the phone with Cooper."

Instead of laughing him off or replying with the snide remark he should have, Stanley swung around to face Blaine and his jaw hit the floor, "I realize now where I've seen your face before! You look just like your brother—only… less groomed. Your brother is fabulous, if I do say so myself." Clapping his hands three times above his head, Stanley barked out at the poor woman in the corner with a ratio of thirty men up against her, and ninety five percent of them being gay and the rest of them slowly turning gay as they gazed upon Kurt in his corset and mini. "Lyndsey! What were you thinking, making this wonderful man an outcast around here? Get him whatever he wants from our finest chefs and a pillow for his bird. He's to be treated like royalty from here on out. You won't call your father to sue me about this little mishap, will you? All is fair in love and war, right?"

Before Blaine had the chance to reply while Lyndsey scurried out of the room to collect the finest of everything for Blaine, one of the models blurted, "He can't call his father. He's been disowned. Richard had an interview about disinheriting his youngest son not too long ago."

"Oh," Stanley's brows lowered into a frown, "Lyndsey! Never mind. Forget everything and come back in here! He's no longer an Anderson—"

"Yes, he is," Kurt blurted, stepping up beside of a startled Stanley and avoiding Blaine's shocked gaze, "T-That was a joke… that interview. You know… how Filipino families celebrate April Fool's Day? They celebrate it early. I figured all of you would know that! Since Richard Anderson celebrates that way, it's the new _in._ Right, Blaine?" Shooting Blaine a look and slightly widening his smoky, cat eyes, Kurt dared him to say any different. Obediently Blaine bobbed his head.

"Really," Stanley licked his tongue over his front teeth, "Huh. I didn't know that. Lyndsey, put that down. April Fool's Day in December is the new _in._ Blaine, what I said before is back on. You can have what you want. Kurt, the cameramen just arrived at the set and are prepping now so we'll need you in ten minutes. _Don't _ruin your outfit." He cast a warning glance at Blaine, then snapped his fingers, "Come, models. Let's not disturb our superstar before his big photo shoot."

The models shuffled out like baby birds following their mother, each of them glimpsing over their shoulders for one last look at Kurt before disappearing into the hallway. Left alone at last, Blaine shifted around in his chair and gestured with a flick of his hand for Kurt to join him. "What the hell are you doing?" Blaine muttered, reaching his hand up to Pavarotti who twittered and hopped onto the backs of his fingers. He held the bird out for Kurt, who eagerly bounced across the room, claimed Pavarotti in the palms of his hands and cooed to him with a kiss to his tiny forehead.

Kurt returned his blue gaze to Blaine's face, and he guiltily bit down on his bottom lip, "I know it's wrong… letting them respect you based on your surname. But, Blaine, I had to do _something._ I'm tired of seeing them look at you like you're trash when you're _not._ At least now you're being respected, even if it's not personally about you. Are you so angry with me?"

Up close he could see eyelash extensions threaded into Kurt's top lashes, giving him a winged appearance, and he pulled Kurt by his sash down onto the arm of Blaine's chair. Kurt lovingly leaned down to nuzzle Blaine's face, so Blaine softly whispered in his ear, "No, I'm not mad at you. I just… wish people didn't judge me by who my father is. It makes it all the more obvious that I've failed when I get compared to my billion dollar dad, my million dollar brother and then… there's me, the kid that got disowned without a penny to his name. Besides, I want these next two weeks to be about you. This is your moment to shine and show the world who you really are."

Kurt laughed humorlessly, picking at his corset, "This outfit is everything _but_ me. I'm over six feet tall with these boots on and I would never willingly match rubber boots with a corset. That's like putting French fries and caviar next to each other. It's amazing to me that within a week I'll be on the cover of a top twenty five most popular magazine in France wearing _this._ I can't be advertising a good thing while wearing this, can I?"

Blaine mutely agreed by cocking his brows, "Well, considering all the places my mind has already gone while looking at you… I'd say _no._ I agree, Kurt, this is something I've fantasized you wearing in bed, not on a public, international magazine. I was hoping to keep the sexier side of you to myself. You know, you don't have to do this. Like your dad said, there are a million other modeling agencies who would pay thousands for your kind of beauty. If you quit this, I'll spend however long it takes hunting down the perfect agency for you. You could dress like you, and as much as I'd miss seeing you in this outfit, I do prefer the real you."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt ducked his head against Blaine's and touched his knuckles to Blaine's cheek, "I truly love you, Blaine. You're amazing. But apparently the _real_ me dresses like a little girl. No modeling agency wants that."

"You_ don't_ dress like a little girl," Blaine insisted, pulling slightly away from Kurt, "You dress like you, and that's what I love about your outfits. They're all you."

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, "You're far too good at flattering me, Blaine Anderson. I'd really like to believe you and take you up on your offer, but sometimes it takes up to two years to even start the real modeling for a company. This is only my second time modeling for Vogue in the one and a half years I've worked for them. And I've signed a contract—unless I get myself fired, I have to model for them for at least three years. I have to stick with this for the money, whether I'm wearing a cat suit or not. I just hope that when I go into Broadway they see me as something more than the model who dressed like a creature out of a horror movie. I'd hate to get cast as the Creature of the Night in the _Rocky Horror_ _Show_."

Blaine grinned at Kurt's annoyance, only to get interrupted by a shout from Stanley that Kurt was needed on set in three. He tilted his chin at just the right angle to kiss Kurt good luck, yet Kurt easily turned his head and Blaine's lips landed on his cheek instead. Blaine yanked back, severely offended, "What's the matter, honey? Did I do something wrong?"

Kurt shook his head, "No, it's not you. It's this lip blush they put on me. If you wipe it off Stanley will come after both of us and tabloids will assume that you kissed me. Your reputation would be ruined." At Blaine's uncertainty, Kurt slid off the arm of the chair and brushed his fingertips over Blaine's lips, "Don't worry, I know what you wanted. And… I love you, too."

With a demure smile Kurt whirled around and strutted out of the room, leaving Blaine in the dark yet again that he was the only one left in the building not somehow involved in Kurt's life. At first the idea of it had left him insecure, but instead he was filled with rage this time—dammit, if they were going to respect him for being an Anderson, they were going to respect his relationship with Kurt and let him have his lover when he wanted him, smeared-lip-blush kisses and all.

* * *

Kurt strode onto the set on the roof of the building, at least five thousand feet in the air and brisk winds snapping his cheeks. He wound his arms around himself and cursed the man who'd designed such a skimpy outfit for him to wear in New York at the end of December. Ducking under a crane where a few work men froze in whatever they were doing and trained their stunned and awestruck eyes on him as he passed, Kurt noticed Stanley jabbing his finger into a cameraman's stomach and shouting something about wanting a jet black background instead of an onyx one and how he'd been so ripped off. Kurt frowned in empathy for the flinching cameraman, and adjusted his eyes over to the crowd of models sticking their hands in their pockets and bouncing up and down to keep warm, bursts of cackles bubbling up from them every so often.

He glimpsed over at the tented set, a tan blanket tied down in the direction the wind was blowing to keep it from messing with the models' hair. An intricate painting of a midnight sky and lightning cracking through it and a concrete wall with decaying mold and cracks in it were the main focus of the painting, and on the floor rested a tarp with a picture of ancient concrete on it, and set around in various places was a black, lace whip, a pair of rusted handcuffs, and a backless bench painted to look creaky and like something out of prison cell. A bottomless, rusted bird cage with the front of it ripped open and the wires molded to appear like the bird within had burst out of it, a few of the bars missing, resided vacantly on a table near the cranes with papers stacked two feet tall on it.

Biting down unsurely on his lip, Kurt jumped as someone behind him touched his hand to his waist, and he glanced back to find Blaine also gaping at the photo shoot set. He leaned back into Blaine trustingly as Blaine wound his arms around Kurt from behind him, and he murmured, "Monsieur Stanley goes all out, doesn't he?"

Blaine stroked his fingers soothingly through Kurt's hair, when across the roof Stanley suddenly snapped, "Hands _off_ my superstar! Alright, beautiful, let me give you the run-through. I want you to locate the naughty vixen inside of you and we're going for a BDSM style with these pictures—"

"Wait," Blaine blurted out because he couldn't help himself, while Kurt remained silent—mostly because he had no idea what BDSM was but figured he'd discover his answer soon enough, "BDSM? Shouldn't there be a… contract for that? What magazine would put pictures of that in? You won't sell clothes that way—"

Stanley rolled his eyes as though it should have been obvious, "Kurt is no longer a minor, there's no need for a contract. And _my _magazine will put those pictures in because I say so. I'm not trying to sell _these _clothes," he gestured to Kurt, "What person in their right mind would wear these clothes—other than strippers? No one. This photo shoot is just to advertise Vogue. If people see a slutty Kurt Hummel on the cover, our clothes will be bought like mad. This isn't _Teen Vogue_—these clothes and magazines that he'll be in are for adults, Blaine, and every adult knows that no superstar will ever truly be famous until they slap on a cat suit. Think about Britney. No one took her seriously until her Toxic video. She still has all the respect in the world—if not more. That's my idea for Kurt."

"By turning him into a sex slave?" Blaine muttered, as if he couldn't believe the nerve. "Stanley, I think that Kurt has quite enough respect as it is. You put him in this scanty little outfit and now you want to tell me that you're turning him into a BDSM victim? That _isn't _a good thing no matter how much respect you say it'll get him. Both women and men have been brutally messed up from BDSM—some get disfigured, some have to go therapy for the rest of their lives. Hell, I've heard of cases where they've gone insane. Are you trying to make some joke out of that?"

Holding his tongue for the fact that he'd learned of Blaine's true name, Stanley bit back a bitter reply, "Um… This isn't a joke. This is costing me half a million dollars to do this shoot. And I wouldn't even have to do it if Kurt would grow up and stop dressing like a little girl. Fine, call it what you will—BDSM, sex slaving, a slutty stripper photo shoot—I don't care. The product in the end will all be the same. Kurt's going to look like a skank on an international magazine and there's nothing you can do about it, no matter who your father is. Sue me for trying to make him a more lusted after icon of fashion."

Stanley whipped around and snapped for Kurt to follow him, but in a moment of sheer wrath Blaine lashed out and gripped down on Stanley's shoulder, spinning him around, "_Listen_ to me!" Blaine screamed, and Kurt's lips parted in shock. No one on the face of the earth ever dared to speak to Stanley in such a way, and apparently everyone on the roof top knew it because all eyes suddenly focused in on Blaine and Stanley, the former seething and the latter appearing—for the first time ever—startled. The models nudged each other and whispered that Blaine was about to get his head ripped off, while the cameramen simply stared as though wondering why they couldn't have stuck Stanley to the curb like that when he was being so very picky over his background coloring choices.

Ignoring the audience, Blaine lowered his voice to a mere growl and wedged himself into Stanley's bubble of space, lifting up on his toes so he towered over Stanley, "I've put up with more shit from you in two days than I ever have from my own father in eighteen years. You've insulted me, you've thrown models all over _him_, you didn't give a damn when one of your models tried to molest him, and today you tell Kurt that he dresses like a fucking little girl then demand he dress in lingerie for the whole world to see that he's suddenly turned into a slut. I'll put up with this photo shoot because he needs the money, but if you _ever_ call him a skank again because of something you're forcing him to do then mock BDSM victims and say that you want Kurt to pretend he's one, I'll tell the press everything you're doing and you'll be the most hated man in not just one continent but two. I have the power to do that, and I have at least twenty things to hold over your head, so here's how this is going to work. You're going to respect Kurt and everything he does, you're never going to call him a name again, and if I hear one more reference about BDSM out of your mouth I'll walk out of these doors and tell everyone that the great and wonderful Dakota Stanley supports sexual abuse. And if you make one more bad reference—be it slut or skank or whore—at Kurt, I'll do far worse to you than ruin your name. Oh, and… about your models—you can have them with Kurt during the photo shoot, but I want them at least a half a foot away from him, and their hands are going to stay in family-friendly spots, and if you even think about having one of the pictures include one of your models making kissy face at him, I'll give you something to kiss and I swear on my father's last name that it won't be any part of _him._ I hope you get my terms because I'm not into negotiating."

Blaine strode past Stanley after slamming his shoulder against Stanley's, his body radiating confidence and ire. The models parted without a second of hesitation as Blaine stormed toward one of the tables set up along the sidelines, their eyes wide enough to take up half the space of their faces. One of the cameramen sitting at the table jerked out of his chair and offered it to Blaine, but Blaine chose to boost himself onto the actual table and stare right through the pathway the frantically whispering models had made. His eyes met Stanley's right on, his face expressing no fear whatsoever, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. Suddenly, a brow cocked as though Blaine were telepathically daring Stanley to retort.

Kurt's pounding heart beat against his rib cage, and he swore it stopped the second Stanley made a move to rush up onto Blaine, who made not even a twitch to bother moving out of a pissed off Stanley's way. "Wait!" Kurt blurted, grasping onto the back of Stanley's jacket. Photo shoot and money aside, Kurt abruptly zoned completely in on protecting Blaine from Stanley, who was known for utterly destroying people who pissed him off. "Monsieur Stanley, please! He didn't mean it. Can we focus on the shoot? The cameramen are only here until two, remember?"

Stanley shrugged him off, pausing halfway between where Blaine daringly rested and where Kurt blinked away tears of fright of what he might do to Blaine. He lifted his finger to point at Blaine, his eyes locked onto Blaine, then he slowly shifted both his finger and eyes to his models and snapped again, "Brian, Liam, on set right now. Kurt, I want to have you laying down on the bench for the first few frames. I want you to look lifeless and limp, like you've just woken up from the dead. Where's your bird? We need him for these first few frames. Kurt, rough up your bird's feathers. What's everyone staring at? Get going!"

_Blaine isn't going to die,_ Kurt grasped with a moment of alarm. _Why isn't Stanley throwing him off the roof of the building? Or at least telling him to leave?_ Was it a kind of guy thing, like they'd both gotten their digs at each other and now respected each other? He glimpsed over at Blaine as two models—probably Liam and Brian—excavated themselves out of the group of men waiting to be exiled and hung their heads as they prepared to get into character as Kurt's sex slave masters. Blaine met his eyes and gave him a brief wink, followed swiftly by an encouraging smile that proved to Kurt that Blaine had this entire situation under control and he knew it, too. It was like he knew some kind of inside secret he wasn't letting anyone else in on, and Kurt didn't even have the ability to ask about it quite yet.

Kurt whipped back around toward the set, where one of the models was picking up the handcuffs and clamping them down like pinchers on the other model's arm and the two of them burst out laughing. _Am I the outsider in my own photo shoot?_ Kurt thought to himself while on his shoulder even Pavarotti fluffed himself for his big debut as a star, _Blaine has a role in this I didn't even know about—my bodyguard. Do _I _even really serve a purpose here?_

"Come on, beautiful," Stanley snapped his fingers at Kurt, "Let's get going; we have a schedule to keep."

_Oh, right,_ Kurt rolled his eyes, stepping forward, _I'm the main star. _Somehow, though, he felt like a sidelined prop. Was this photo shoot even really about him, or was it about a boy who would actually wear these clothes? What was he promoting here, that BDSM cause that Blaine seemed so against? Was this really as humiliating and degrading of a situation as Blaine made it out to be, or was it okay for him to do this? _I don't belong here… do I?_

Kurt stepped under the tented set area and blinked at the two models, who quieted down at the sight of him approaching. The brunette on the left flicked his eyes up and down Kurt's body, while the redhead on the right gazed dreamily at Kurt's face. "Hey," the brunette finally said, "I'm Brian. He's Liam. You have _great _curves. Like… seriously. I've heard rumors that you were beautiful, I just never knew you looked like _this_—"

"Focus!" Stanley barked as he set a lit, blood red candle at the head of the bench and then placed the bird cage on the floor. He started to scoop Pavarotti from Kurt's shoulder, but Pavarotti twittered at the incoming, unfamiliar pair of hands and nipped at Stanley. Stanley withdrew with a sharp gasp.

From a few feet away Kurt heard someone snort, and he briefly turned his head to find Blaine looking off into the distance, his eyes sparkling as he covered his curved lips with the palm of his hand. He looked back down at Pavarotti, who was still puffing his chest out at Stanley, and realized that the bird found anyone who seemed to threaten either Kurt or Blaine as a bad guy, and that Blaine had figured that out even before Kurt did. Kurt held his palm up for Pavarotti to hop into, and the tiny bird finally tore his beady, narrowed eyes away from Stanley in order to step into the cup of Kurt's palm.

"You never told me that bird was dangerous," Stanley snapped, shoving the bird cage into Kurt's other hand.

Kurt managed a brief smile, "He isn't. He just doesn't like those he thinks are a threat, that's all. Pavarotti's a good bird. Aren't you, Pavarotti?" Stroking his twittering bird, Kurt knelt to set the bird cage on the ground and placed Pavarotti inside of it. Pavarotti chirped up at him and closed his beak around one of the bars, accidentally bending the flimsy wire out of place. From behind him he could hear Blaine muffling his helpless laughter as Kurt and Pavarotti caught onto the ploy to finally put Stanley in his place. Kurt bit down a smirk and gave Pavarotti one extra stroking of approval as he continued to bend the cage bars with his beak.

"Hey!" Stanley batted his hand at Pavarotti, who opened his beak at him and fluffed slightly to make himself appear bigger, a noisy chirp escaping his throat. Again, Stanley withdrew but he snapped, "Stop bending those bars! That cage cost me a hundred bucks to design. Kurt, if you don't control this pest he's out of the photo shoot."

Nearby either Liam or Brian muttered, "For a hundred dollar cage, it's pretty tacky if that little bird can bend those bars." The other of the boys snickered in agreement, and Stanley shot them a glare.

"Shut up, both of you," he grumbled, rising to his feet. "This photo shoot should be starting now! Why don't I see my models in their places? Hurry up or you're all fired."

Kurt touched his fingertips to his lips and held them out to Pavarotti, a gentle smile curving his lips at the twittering bird. "Good luck, Pavarotti," he whispered, and the bird chirped in reply, his head bobbing. Kurt lifted himself up from the tarp and spun around to face the readied cameramen armed at the cranes, their fingers flicking over a million buttons on the high-tech cameras. Behind them Blaine still resided on the table, while the other models huddled to gather around the table for front row seats and an easy pathway to the set when they were needed.

"Okay," Stanley murmured as Kurt lowered himself down onto the bench, "for these first few shots, Kurt, I want you on your back. Have one arm dangling off the bench and one draped across your stomach. Tilt your head slightly toward the camera and just barely open your eyes. I want a glazed expression out of you. Liam, kneel down by his hips and lay your head on his stomach. Give me the same glassy expression. Brian, I want you on his other side and put your cheek against his neck and place one hand on his chest and the other against the side of his face closest to the bench. Understand? I want both of you to look mournful, like your abuse to him went too far and he died—" Stanley suddenly recalled Blaine's threats, and he stiffened his spine, "—er… you know what I mean. Just do it!"

The models scurried to their positions on either side of Kurt, and Kurt awkwardly lay himself back on the bench, wincing at the cold of the models' touches on his skin. Gazing slightly past the camera at a tensed Blaine whose eyes had flamed alive and were flicking between Stanley and Kurt, Kurt blinked at the first flash of light sending sparks shooting through his eyes. As though triggered by the first, a dozen other cameras flashed in his face, momentarily blinding him. For the few seconds it took to take the first few frames, Kurt really did feel dead. And it wasn't a good feeling.

The cameras suddenly spun away from his face as the photographers each studied their own feedback, heads nodding or eyes squinting, then one by one they gave Stanley a thumbs up or a sideways thumb. Kurt was oddly reminded of hitchhikers, and a brief smile spread on his face before Stanley pointed at a black haired model close to the front, "Ian, I want you in these next few frames. You'll be posing as Kurt's reviver. I want you at his feet, and, Kurt, I want you to bend one of your legs then kick the other straight into the air. Ian, you're going to grab the bottom of his thigh and put his foot on your shoulder, and bend over his chest. Put your cheek against his, and, Kurt, slightly look up at him but keep your eyes on the camera, then by the fifteenth frame I want you to slowly lift your hand and put it up by your head. You're coming back to life so keep the glassy look, I love it. Brian, Liam, off the set."

With a snap of his fingers Ian replaced a giggling Brian and Liam who whispered and punched each other about who got more of a whiff of Kurt's perfume. Kurt kicked his leg farthest from the camera into the air, eyeing Ian as he took his place by Kurt's feet. Biting down on his lip when Ian bent over his chest and his own stomach brushed awkwardly against Kurt's groin, Kurt shifted his body to avoid the excess touch and Stanley groaned as he waved the readied cameramen off. "Kurt, what are you doing, beautiful? Don't arch you back so much, you look like you have cramps. Give me sexy, okay? You look like you're deep in thought. I don't want that. Give me glassy airhead."

Ian threw a brief smirk at Kurt, his breath hot and moist on Kurt's face. Kurt scrunched his nose in distaste. "Don't worry, gorgeous, you can be comfortable with me. Want me to loosen you up with a kiss? Ian can do magic with his tongue."

Kurt mentally rolled his eyes at the display of third person dialogue, and he shied away from Ian's touch again. Stanley cut the groaning cameramen off once more, then shot them a warning look for the unnecessary groaning, "Superstar! What's going on? Is it Ian? Ian, get out of the set. Kurt, go on and have your pick of a model. You have five seconds to choose or I'll send in Vincent."

Slightly sitting up, Kurt sighed and shook his head, "Monsieur Stanley, this isn't working. I wouldn't feel comfortable with _any _of those models. I told you in my email, I'd rather work with Blaine—"

"Blaine isn't an option," Stanley snapped, "He isn't a model and he's not even dressed. Vincent, do exactly what Ian was doing. Ian, you're fired."

Ian's mouth fell open, "_What?_ He just said he wouldn't be comfortable with any of us! It's not my fault the kid's a prude."

"Shut up," Stanley bitterly waved him off, crossing his arms impatiently over his chest as a white-blond haired man took Ian's place. Assuming a modeling pose, Vincent pressed his cheek against Kurt's but Kurt was suddenly veiled in the overpowering scent of barbeque chips. His lips quivered and his eyes watered, but he blinked it down and tried to assume what he hoped was a glassy expression but probably more resembled a bad meal finding its way back up as the cameras flashed again, and once the cameramen looked over the feedback they each flashed either sideways or upside down thumbs at a grim Stanley. Kurt knew just how he felt.

"Okay, cut!" Stanley shouted, shooing Vincent off the set as he marched over to Kurt. Kurt lifted himself slightly off the bench, his head woozy from those few seconds of breathing in nothing but barbeque and oil. "Models, take five!" He shouted over his shoulder, then held his hands apart at Kurt as though questioning what he was doing, "Superstar… please don't tell me this is a remake of two years ago. What a nightmare that was," he muttered out of the side of his mouth, then cocked a brow at Kurt, "Well, you haven't run off yet so this is a start. But I'm all ears. Tell me what the problem is with the Calvin Klein models. It almost seemed too easy when you modeled with those animals to promote faux furs, or even with a few of the Victoria's Secret girls. What changes with the Calvin Klein models?"

Kurt uncomfortably slid his bottom lip between his teeth, mindlessly gnawing at it until Stanley snapped his fingers, "Don't, you'll ruin your lip-blush. That bottle cost a good twenty dollars. Don't tell me you're still a virgin, though. You're… not, are you? Is that why you look like you have cramps whenever you're with the Calvin Klein models? Because they're walking, male sex and you're gay?"

"He's not a virgin," muttered Blaine as he paced up to Kurt and knelt down by Pavarotti's cage. He lifted the twittering bird into his palms as Pavarotti nibbled at his feathers to clean himself up for the next round of pictures, and he stared at Stanley straight in the eye, "But he's only been with one man and it's a romantically involved affair. So… compared to your modeling buffoons, yes, he technically could be counted as a virgin in this scenario."

Blaine handed Pavarotti over to Kurt who instantly took to stroking and cooing over his twittering bird, and Stanley leapt back a step, "_One_ out of _romance?_ Where did your family ever go wrong with you, superstar? You poor soul, I have lovers on every continent. They want me because I'm rich and beautiful."

"If you say so," Blaine muttered cynically, ignoring Stanley's daring glare, and he cocked his brows instead, "Look, if you want Kurt to be real with the camera, you're going to have to pull your models out. That's the best advice I have. Besides, _I_ told you family-friendly, and that _includes_ not having models climbing all over him." Blaine laid a hand against Kurt's back, to which Stanley slightly narrowed his eyes but chose not to comment.

"Dammit, you're right," Stanley growled, "You know, you remind me a lot of myself—with much less beauty in your features than I had at your age. I was a _looker._ I never realized you had it in you to get in my face. I have more respect for you than I ever had for anyone—but if you tell anyone that, I'll ruin you twice as hard."

"Fair enough," Blaine rubbed his hand over Kurt's spine, the violent growl in his voice melting away as he gazed down into Kurt's blue eyes, Kurt's head tilted up to meet Blaine's eye in return. "But this choice belongs to Kurt. Let him decide what he wants to do."

Kurt quietly leaned into Blaine's thighs, finding comfort in his touch, "Monsieur Stanley, I'm not comfortable with your models. It's safe to say that they're all very handsome, but… I told you. Blaine is my end decision and you're not willing to have him so… I'm assuming this means I'm fired again?"

Blaine smoothed his fingers through Kurt's hair, capable of seeing right through the masked façade on Kurt's face to where he was squirming in agony that he'd failed yet again inside of him. A wash of guilt crept inside Blaine, but suddenly Stanley reached out and jerked Blaine's head around to face him. "Huh…" Stanley murmured quietly, tilting Blaine's face this way and that, "You _do_ have your brother in you. If you didn't have that mop on your head you could look just like him. You know, I've worked with your brother before. He's easier to manipulate than you are but… I think we could work with you. We don't have time for a makeover but, Lyndsey, take him to wardrobe. You're shorter and wider than the other models so we'll have to make some adjustments but, Lyndsey, I'd say you can take anything from the disco section and work with it—especially faux-leathers, anything with feathers, then maybe some eyeliner and lip blush. Rip up anything that looks like it can be ripped up and make sure he has a dark look about him. Understand? He could be good looking if he stopped wearing all the baggy clothes and cut his hair."

Reaching up for his hair and tugging it as Lyndsey shoved him toward the stairwell leading back to the main building, Blaine shot Stanley a glare that questioned his sanity, "You're cutting my hair?"

Stanley shook his head and called after him, "No, we don't have time for that, but I wish we could! Lyndsey, don't touch his hair! It's messy enough for the shoot."

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he grasped down on Stanley's wrist, "You're using Blaine in the shoot? What changed your mind?"

Within seconds Stanley snapped back into his old, insulting self and he sneered at Kurt, "That's for me to know and you to not bother with. Put your bird back in the cage. We're going to run some frames of you alone while he's getting ready."

Hesitantly Kurt glanced down at Pavarotti, who twittered and bobbed happily at him, and a slow smile curved his lips as he realized that, despite past debates and provocative evidence, maybe Dakota Stanley wasn't the bad guy everyone thought him to be. Maybe he was honestly just doing his job, and he had a tendency of being brutally honest about it. Now that he thought about it, both Blaine and Stanley were well matched for stubbornness and their boldly daring personalities, and the ability to say whatever was on their minds without much care of the offensiveness of the statement. But just like Kurt knew of the true warmth in Blaine's heart and his arms, maybe Stanley was just as soft on the inside. "Monsieur Stanley?" he murmured timidly, managing a demure smile as Stanley cocked his brows at him, "_Merci._"

For once, Kurt didn't have to dread his modeling career. He knew just what to expect, and the thought of the suddenly comforting cushion surrounding him made him smile wider, and he lightly hugged a chirping Pavarotti to his chest, as though his bird somehow knew that it was time to celebrate. _Now if only I could have an idea as to what they've dressed Blaine in,_ he thought with a smirk, just trying to imagine Blaine in eyeliner. He wasn't sure what to think, whether to laugh at the idea or expect a sexy vixen to walk onto the roof. Either way, his skin was full of chills from just playing with his thoughts. He couldn't begin to envision what seeing Blaine standing in front of him dressed like one of the models would do to him.

Then again, surprises didn't always have to be bad.

* * *

Blaine emerged from the dressing room weighing twenty pounds more than he usually did, despite his shirt and pants being so terrifyingly thin. _I have breezes in places I shouldn't have, _Blaine thought disgustedly, wondering if this was how Kurt felt all the time. Clad in an all-black array of _mourning _clothes consisting of a thick, shin length pair of combat boots with a slight heel to them to boost him up to a five-ten stature overtop of a pair of professionally wrinkled and ripped, black, metallic pants with pockets sewn in on every inch there wasn't a rip or buckle. A trench coat draped around his chest with nothing underneath, exposing his stomach to the world. His face, at least fifteen pounds heavier to form into different expressions than what he remembered, had been smeared in bronzer, his eyes smudged with a thick, black eyeliner and his lips dusted in the same red powder used for Kurt's lips, only Lyndsey had lined his lips with a charcoal gray color. Lyndsey, his stylist, cinched a tight, thin, onyx headband around his forehead which slightly pushed his curls off his face.

As Lyndsey finished touching up the wings she had drawn with a stick of eyeliner and Blaine lowered into one of the chairs in the vacant wardrobe room, the door behind him suddenly swung open and Blaine slightly turned his head to find Unique in the doorway, more frazzled than he had ever seen him. Lyndsey swore under her breath when the stick slipped and smeared on Blaine's skin, and she swiftly dabbed the corner of his eye with a toilette, "Hold still, I can only dab your skin so many times before it starts to look raw. What do you want, Unique? I have two minutes to finish him up. Blurt it out fast."

Unique blinked at Blaine, "Why is he the only model I'm seeing? _Where _are Kurt and Stanley? Where are the rest of the models?"

"On the roof," Blaine muttered through the corner of his mouth, uncomfortably shifting around on his chair, "I _am _the only model. The rest were fired from the shoot. Where have you been, Unique?"

At the familiar voice Unique's eyes flew open wide, and he moved across the room for a better look at the man in the chair and his mouth bitter sweetly crashed into the floor. Bitterly because his stomach did a flip it never should have at the sight of Blaine, and sweetly because Blaine looked _smoking._ Gaping at the sexy animal residing casually in the chair while Lyndsey switched over to glopping black war paint onto his chest to make him look even less classy and more like a wild creature set loose into the night on Halloween, Unique swallowed down an abrupt burning in his lower stomach. Lyndsey impatiently snapped her fingers in Unique's general direction, drawing him out of his stupor, "If you're just going to stand there you can do me a favor and go to the closet with the Halloween edition costumes. I want you to grab me the black angel wings, not the huge ones. The average sized ones, with the faux feathers."

Unique slowly backed toward the door, his eyes still trained on Blaine. _If this is how sexy Blaine looks, what the hell is Kurt going to look like?_ He almost didn't want to know, for fear that after seeing Kurt his sex life would be crippled for how many times he'd abuse his manhood until the palms of his hands bled. "Damn," he whispered without realizing he'd spoken out loud, and Blaine cocked a single brow at him. "You look like a hung-over stripper, Blaine. In a totally good way—"

The rest of his sentence was lost into the air the second Blaine rocketed out of his chair, whipping around for any signs of a mirror. "I look like a hung-over stripper?" he echoed, shooting Lyndsey a half blaming, half desperate glance for confirmation. Briefly she nodded her head, capping the war paint and strutting out of the room with mutters about how she had to do everything herself.

Blaine ignored his stylist after spying a slimming mirror in the corner, and he bounded over to it, skidding to a stop just before it. It didn't seem to take seconds before Blaine catapulted straight into his own panic attack, "Holy fuck, I look like something that came out of the _Twilight_ books! I change my mind. I can't do this. I can't be seen like this."

Unique popped an unsure brow in his general direction, "Do _what,_ Blaine? You're not a model. Where are the other models?"

Blaine shook his comment off, touching his shaky fingertips to the two inch deep eyeliner painted around his eyes, "I think most of them said they were going out for pizza. The rest decided to stay on the roof to watch the rest of Kurt's shoot. Stanley told me to finish the shoot with Kurt but, Unique… I can't do this. I don't know who the hell is going to be reading this magazine—"

"Basically anyone in France who wants to be a somebody," Unique muttered bluntly, twitching his shoulders. "Look, I don't know what happened but if it's true—that you're the new _it_ boy," At Blaine's blank expression staring back at him in the mirror from under his eyeliner, Unique sighed and explained, "Around here whatever male who would be modeling with Kurt was called the _it_ boy because so many guys get jealous and hot over Kurt. Never mind that, though. There's no way you're getting out of this, Blaine. After all the trouble you and Kurt went through to get here, you better not back out on Stanley. When you get under the cameras, don't you dare think about the pictures being taken because you'll lock up. Just… focus on Kurt and what he's doing."

Both of them glanced over at Lyndsey returning with a pair of black angel wings, and Blaine held down a gag at the sight of the feathers fluttering in the breeze her determined pacing caused. And while Blaine completely doubted himself as Lyndsey attached his wings to his shoulders, Unique believed the exact opposite to be true. Blaine Anderson might just start his own sex riot.

* * *

"Perfection!" Stanley cried out from across across the way, and Kurt glanced up from his twittering, fluffing bird to where Blaine—or something that looked just like Blaine—emerged from the staircases. In those first few seconds of spotting Blaine something inside of Kurt died, something he'd always worn around him like a shield. His innocence. He doubted any single person could have ever thought _anything_ innocent as Blaine, dressed to the tens with angel wings attached to his back and tight pants that hugged every muscular limb and the nearly nonexistent curve of his ass perfectly, awkwardly crossed the roof with Unique on his heels, the latter noting his surroundings on a legal pad. The few models remaining out of boredom or maybe hopeful wishing that Kurt would suddenly choose them instead glimpsed up at the sight of Blaine's arrival, and one of them clumsily released his grip on the table he was leaning against, his body teetering sideways and his elbow smacking roughly against the edge.

But even then he was far too captivated by Blaine's stunningly demanding presence to notice the swelling pain of his arm.

"Holy shit," one of the cameramen nearby whispered, "Who _is _that?"

The other cameraman pointed to Blaine, muttering lowly, "That's that kid that got into Stanley's face! He looks totally hot now! If he would quit wearing the sweats and look like _that_ all the time I'd consider dating him."

The first cameraman snorted, jabbing his elbow into the second's stomach, "With that beer belly you'd _only_ be in the league of the side of him that wears sweats. That side of him is more Kurt's league."

Sparing himself a glimpse at Kurt, the second wrinkled his nose and shook his head, "I disagree. _No one _is in Kurt's league. Far too pretty, but he's also off limits. Ian was right, he's a total prude. I want _his_ face, though—" he gestured toward Blaine, "—and you can totally tell he goes at it all the time. He's far too demanding and in-your-face to be a virgin. I vote six as the maximum of people he's screwed, male or female. He looks bi."

"Oh, he's so bi," the first agreed, "No strait guy would wear that no matter what. Then again, have you seen Kurt's ass? I think he can turn any guy gay if he wanted. When it comes to being a sexy celebrity, you can pretty much have anyone you want."

Kurt tore his gaze away from the cameramen demurely, slipping his arms around himself to hide the majority of his chest. Perched on his knee, Pavarotti whipped his head around and he noticed Blaine standing with Stanley receiving the run-through of what most models trained for months to hear. He twittered at his other owner excitedly, so Kurt stroked a finger over his back to hush him. "He's busy, Pavarotti," Kurt murmured to him, cupping the tiny bird into his palm and lifting him up to meet his beady, blinking eyes. "Unless you confused him for another bird?"

Pavarotti bobbed his head in agreement, so Kurt sighed and stroked him again, "That's Blaine, Pavarotti. He's not another bird, but if you like I'll take you to a pet shop one day and let you see other birds. It could be like a day at camp."

At the suggestion Pavarotti flapped his wings, chirping contentedly, until at last Blaine parted ways with Stanley and approached Kurt as casually as he might on any other day. Kurt cocked a brow at Blaine's intricate outfit, drawing a surprised smile onto his lips and he couldn't help but tease, "Bird-man is a good look for you, Blaine. Or… at least Pavarotti thinks so."

Blaine rolled his eyes, kneeling down by Kurt's feet and shooting him a grin to show that he understood that Kurt was in good humor, "I've never felt so ridiculous, and when I was young I had some pretty insane Halloween costumes. Be honest with me, babe, should I feel as stupid as I look?"

Kurt touched his hand to Blaine's soot-covered abs, the rock hard surfaces contracting with his fingertips, "You don't look stupid at all, Blaine," he promised sincerely.

Shaking his head, Blaine reached back to touch the itchy wings, "I feel like an idiot right now. What if people at school get their hands on this magazine? I'd be a laughing joke for the rest of high school. Worse than I already am. This look works on you… on me… I look like a bloated whore."

Kurt's expression lost its humor, his fingers lightly tracing patterns over Blaine's cheeks, "I don't think so. Where did you get that idea? Blaine, for the first thing… this is a French magazine. America won't be selling this. And secondly, you look… amazing. I'm being perfectly serious, Blaine, don't give me that face. Why would you think you're anything less than perfection? Because this is new for you? Because the guys at school would make fun of you for branching out and discovering your theatrical side? Blaine, by wearing this outfit you're absorbing more culture in five minutes than most of the guys at school will in their entire lives. If my opinion matters to you… I think you're beautiful."

"Of course your opinion matters to me," Blaine insisted, his clenched jaw softening as Kurt stroked his face, "Your opinions matter to me most. It's just… I've only been with you for two months. I'm still adjusting to… all of this," he spread his arms in either direction to generalize what he meant, "It's hard for me… going straight from football, burping contests, and lounging around in sweats to… your world, of getting up at five in the morning to model in clothes like these. We're both adjusting to each other, but… I'll get through this. For you, at least. But, Kurt… promise me no one in America is going to see these pictures. I know I don't have a reputation anymore and ninety percent of our peers hate me but… if they saw pictures like these…" He shook his head as though the thought disgusted him far too much to even consider. "I know I sound dramatic, but this is important to me."

"No, I understand," Kurt flirted his fingertips underneath Blaine's chin, lifting his head up, "Blaine, I know that all of this is hard on you. And I just want to say thank you for doing this with me. You have no idea how much that means to me. Blaine… You _are_ the only man brave enough from McKinley High to step up and voluntarily put on an outfit like this. I've never met a man quite like you."

Blaine finally managed a smirk and nuzzled into Kurt's face, his lashes tangling with Kurt's, "The same to you. You _are _one-of-a-kind, after all. There's no one in the world who can even begin to copy you. And I really love that."

A broad smile crept onto Kurt's lips, and with a single shout from Stanley he glimpsed back at Blaine, who gave him a small, unsure smile and started wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, his eyes growing hazy and fuzzy as he stared into the cameras. He was the ideal model for Kurt's shoot, and if Kurt didn't say so himself… it was absolutely perfect.

* * *

Rachel vaguely focused her eyes in on the TV where an image previewing a commercial for the next show time for Wicked scanned across the screen. Normally a channel premiering her favorite musical for the entire day would have cheered her up, especially as she called Kurt and Blaine multiple times and received nothing but voicemail out of both of them. She figured Blaine would have at least picked up, since all he ever did at the Vogue corporation was stand around and watch Kurt from a distance. Had Rachel been in his shoes—which she definitely should have been—she would have taken advantage of the celebrity perks and attempted to make her name known, but if she knew Blaine at all he simply sat in a chair and twiddled his thumbs. Just like he'd always done, just remained as the boy in the back of the room, silently waiting for his moment to strike.

She guessed that was what made him such a threat, despite the fact that Karofsky was a thousand times more obnoxious and violent than Blaine. Blaine moved as a viper, unlike Karofsky's noisy, hyena-like presence. No one ever knew when Blaine was sharpening his nails for the kill, or how hard he would bite. And even though he didn't attack anywhere near as much as Karofsky and Azimio, he scared the hell out of nearly everyone at McKinley worse than Karofsky and Azimio ever could. The way Blaine scarred was mental, and could never be erased after the damage was done.

Rachel thought back to the first time she'd ever seen Blaine Anderson, on the very first day of freshmen year. He'd already had his posse grouped together of Karofsky and Azimio, and he'd been striding through the halls just like he owned them, and she had seen the way his peers parted like a tugged zipper at his presence. And those who stood in his way always got a good taste of why they shouldn't have. At first she'd been startled and intimidated by his drive and merciless power over his peers, even some of the seniors. After all, the only man with an attitude like Blaine's who she'd met before was Puck, and even Puck caved to his own weaknesses, while Blaine didn't seem to have any. No girl could ever shake him, and no guy ever seemed to scare him. He almost seemed inhuman, like he'd come from another planet where no emotion ever existed, where pain couldn't be felt, where no one paid any mind to his or her future and the only thing that mattered in life was torturing other people.

It wasn't until Kurt Hummel had walked through the McKinley High doors that she'd ever seen Blaine squirm, his match met.

Memories of the ecstasy shooting through her body when she'd discovered she'd be sitting next to Blaine in art class the second semester of her freshmen ricocheted straight through her body, and she recalled holding her hand out to him the first moment she got, only to have him smirk at it like introductions were some kind of joke. _"Hi,_" she had murmured politely, _"I'm Rachel."_

Blaine had turned his head away from her, his teeth gnawing his bottom lip to hold down an amused smile as he rolled his eyes, _"I don't remember asking. You must think I'm your new buddy, don't you?"_

Rachel had instantly stiffened, offended by his bold rudeness but she had held her tongue only for the purpose of getting herself a new, popular boyfriend and instant status for herself, _"Well, that'd be nice, yes. Surely you must have heard of me. Rachel Berry. I post new song videos every day to my blog. You know, a lot of guys want to tap this, actually. That makes us alike, because I hear about girls wanting to have sex with you all the_ _time."_ Blaine had shook his head, his face caught somewhere between amusement and worry._ "No? Haven't heard a thing about me? I have two gay dads. I'm the only one at school with gay dads. That must make me stand out somehow."_

Blaine had cocked his brows at her, the smirk still curving his lips, and he shook his head, _"No, I don't know who you are. If I cared, I would ask. Get it? The only thing between _us_ is this table. You're not my type."_

Rachel's brows had furrowed, and she pointed to Quinn who sat at her own table alone near the front of the class, _"What, is the class trollop your type? Your parents must be so proud."_

The smirk had slightly wavered, and unlike most guys who took one glance at Quinn and dropped their jaws, Blaine instantly tore his gaze away and returned it to Rachel, _"You don't know shit about me, Princess. I don't _have_ a type, but when I meet her, I'll let you know. All I really want in a woman is one who doesn't wear moose on her sweaters. I hope you're not too offended."_ After a sardonic twitch of his shoulders, Blaine had whipped around to face Karofsky in the back of the room and the two had mouthed at each other and texted under the table whenever the teacher turned away—from what Rachel saw, Karofsky's texts consisted of phrases like _I bet Mr. Karver does Santana after school. Ten bucks I'm right,_ while Blaine texted things like, _Meet me on the field after school. My throwing's rusty from the weekend._

And what was a text like that supposed to prove for Rachel? That Blaine was a purist? Before Kurt, Blaine had never expressed much interest in one person. Sure, he talked to Santana and Quinn, but his eyes were always drifting, never staying put. Like he had somewhere better to be rather than macking out with the two hottest girls in school, while people like Jacob Ben Israel begged and pleaded to even _buy_ Blaine's girlfriends off of him. Not that Blaine had ever seemed too against the idea of getting rid of them.

Dizzy just from the impossibility of decoding Blaine and the exact moment he'd turned gay—if it hadn't just been all along—Rachel rolled onto her stomach wishing more than anything that Blaine came with a manual. She would probably read the parts of it most with the labels: _Why I Like Kurt Hummel_, _These were My Thoughts the Moment I Turned Gay_, and _Why I Dearly Enjoy the Idea of Tormenting Rachel Berry as She Wracks Her Brain Deciphering Why I'm Still in the Closet. _Was it a threatening kind of thing? Although Rachel had known Brittany all along to be an out lesbian, Santana had accidentally been outed by Finn who caught her kissing Brittany in a coat closet at a drunken party then he'd gone and blabbed about it to Puck, and the deal was done at that point.

Santana had dealt with it the exact way she imagined Blaine might, by storming up to Finn—Rachel, in Blaine's case—and slugging him in the face then screaming swear words in Spanish and threatening to go all Lima Heights on his face. The look she'd seen on Santana's face after being outed—a mixture of devastation and loathing—brought her back around to Blaine, and how cruel it would be to force him into something he wasn't ready to face. To feel so trapped and helpless, to feel so unprepared, so vulnerable, stripped naked, exposed, and be able to do nothing about it with the proof behind Rachel's statement. Suddenly sick to her stomach, Rachel thought about the state she'd left Blaine in yesterday, curled up on the floor with tears streaking down his cheeks. And that was just from being separated from Kurt for a few hours while models danced around him. She couldn't even bring herself to envision all of the horror outing him could do.

The only thing worse than seeing Blaine in such a weakened state was the thought of what it might do to Kurt to see Blaine in such a way. And how Rachel would clearly be the most horrible person on the planet for putting the pair of them through anything they weren't quite ready for.

Suddenly, a burst of high pitched laughter echoed through the hallway, and Rachel glanced up at the familiar sound of it. "_Blaine!_" a boy shrieked from the hallway, followed by a grunt and another bubble of laughter from a much lower and more masculine voice.

Cocking her brow, Rachel tied the front of her robe and curiously streaked across her empty bedroom while Mercedes and Tina dined in the café downstairs for a late night vacation meal that everyone on vacation had to have at least once. Reaching her door, she hesitated to open it in fear of what she might witness, but then her biting curiosity claimed the best of her on why Blaine and Kurt suddenly weren't so moody or weary just as they had been yesterday. Obviously Kurt had been around the same models, right? And Blaine's jealously pained him like a prong shoved up his ass. So why weren't they sluggishly dragging themselves to their room? What had happened to change things?

She pressed down on the handle to her room and with a soft kissing sound the door split open, and she peeked out of the crack to find Kurt and Blaine not ten feet away in a more friendly than passionate lip lock, Kurt's hand at Blaine's cheek while Blaine wound his arm around Kurt's waist, a twittering and fluffing Pavarotti in his other hand. Kurt drew away after a moment, his blue eyes scanning the territory before he leaned into Blaine and whispered something in his ear. Blaine grinned broadly, hugging Kurt tighter, "I love you, too," Blaine murmured loud enough for Rachel to hear, then in a swift move Blaine ripped Kurt off of his feet and slung the screaming boy over his shoulder.

Kurt immediately burst into a fit of giggles, his limp, dangling arms tightening up as he whacked his fists lightly on Blaine's back, doing nothing to deter Blaine as Blaine fished his pockets for his key, then jammed it into the door. "Blaine, I hate you!" Kurt blurted in a laugh, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dancing, "Put me down right now!"

Blaine kicked the door open, "I don't think so, brat—" The rest of his sentence was lost on Rachel when he slammed the door shut again, and through the wall separating their rooms she could barely make out Kurt screaming once more, then the creak of bedsprings being pressed on, and suddenly all was as quiet as though none of that had just happened. But just in case, Rachel darted back to her bed and pulled her pillow over her head, drowning it all out and telling herself that this was nothing but a dream.

Except this dream seemed to go on forever and ever.

* * *

Kurt's spine impatiently arched when Blaine strode across the room to deposit Pavarotti in his cage to continue his cleaning of each and every feather that had been roughed up for the photo shoot. The bird had his preferences about how his feathers lay in front of others and his own personal grooming habits, and Kurt could understand that, but with his clothes strewn across the room and Blaine still dressed in his sweats, he wondered if Pavarotti could hold off just for one night on his cleaning.

Apparently not.

Whimpering and digging his fingers into the sheets under him, Kurt kicked his feet impatiently and whispered Blaine's name. Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder at Kurt, a knowing smile curving his lips at the sight of his lover prepped and bared on their bed, "Patience, angel. You'll get yours in a minute." Blaine scooped a cup of seed into Pavarotti's empty bowl that Pavarotti instantly rushed over to and burrowed his face in, then checked his water to assure that he'd have enough to hold him steady for the night.

Behind him Kurt moaned lowly, a vixen waiting for his lover, "What if I told you I couldn't wait a minute for you? _Please…_ Hurry. I need you."

Blaine instantly stroked Pavarotti good night, leaving his cage door open in case he decided to join Kurt and Blaine later on in bed, and without hesitation he tore the front of his button up open, buttons flying in all directions. Pushing it off his shoulders, Blaine pushed his pants down to his ankles and slipped those off with his boxers, then stepped out of his shoes and socks and strode to join Kurt on the bed. Kurt lay flat on his back above the blankets, his knees drawn up and one arm curled above his head.

Not wasting any time to tease, Blaine climbed onto the foot of the bed and hesitated by Kurt's knees, meeting Kurt's pretty blue eyes with his own. Kurt blinked at him, giving Blaine the free reign to do as he pleased, so he dipped his head down and jabbed his tongue out against the crease between his thighs. Rising up on all fours, Blaine fluttered his eyes shut and lapped the skin, tasting the salt of Kurt's skin and the tanginess of perfume, and his heart stopped the moment the smell of sex wafted up to his nose. Seconds later Kurt's pink cock brushed his bottom lip, and, not needing an invitation, he swallowed it into his mouth.

Suckling from the tip as Kurt whimpered helplessly above him, his spine twisting to accommodate Blaine and his thighs splitting apart, Blaine gratefully crawled into the cradle of Kurt's thighs and deepened his mouth on the cock. He slid down another two inches, then broke off to press kisses all up and down the sides of Kurt's cock. "Mm…" he mumbled between kisses, his words panty and broken, "Have I ever told you that I loved you more than anything?"

Limply Kurt raised his head an inch, and he lifted his leg to brush his foot against Blaine's rock hard stomach, "You might have mentioned it once or twice. Say it again just so I know for sure?"

Blaine bent his head down further to nuzzle Kurt's sac with his lips and tongue, his head raising with a refreshed flush and he leaned back down to press a kiss to Kurt's stomach, right over his belly button, "You insatiable little love," he muttered lowly, his tongue lapping out and circling the very inside of Kurt's belly button, "It's true, Kurt, that I love you more than absolutely anything. You're the perfection I've always wanted in my life. You… my pretty little angel, are beautiful, amazing and you never fail to keep me guessing. You turn me on. You're sexy as hell, and with every moment I spend in your arms I fall more in love with you."

Kurt automatically held open his arms welcomingly, and Blaine lowered into a push-up form on top of Kurt. Fluttering his fingers over Blaine's muscular back, Kurt nipped his bottom lip and Blaine's eyes drifted down to it, the tempting rosebud sucking the will to refuse anything out of him. He lowered his head over Kurt's, his hair creating a veil over the two of them, some of the tendrils tickling Kurt's lashes and cheeks, but when their lips met an explosion of fireworks inside both of their heads covered any shyness up within seconds.

Sliding his hand between their stomachs, Blaine smiled when his finger brushed a ticklish spot on Kurt's stomach and the boy squirmed under him, his blue eyes flying open. Their thighs brushed, and Blaine's hand crept between his own to capture his leaking cock in his hand. He peeled his mouth off of Kurt's and kissed the corner of his lips, whispering, "Ready? Or do you want me to stretch you out?"

Kurt shook his head quietly, briefly glancing over when something brushed his foot and he noticed Pavarotti hop up onto the bed, twittering at he and Blaine. The bird cuddled against Kurt's foot, and Kurt looked back up at a smirking Blaine who'd also noticed the bird. "He gets lonely," Kurt insisted, and Blaine rolled his eyes with a brief laugh.

"Mood kill," he muttered, dipping his lips back down into Kurt. Kurt clenched his fingers into Blaine's skin, sighing dreamily as he felt Blaine slide his thighs further down Kurt's body, and a balmy pressure pressed up against his entrance. He shivered at the tingling in his fingertips and at his hair roots just from the thought of being—

A high pitched scream escaped from his lips when Blaine punctured his body with his massive length, pushing in halfway without pause. "_Oh!_" He mewled, scratching Blaine's back until he was sure he drew bloody spots. "More! Blaine, deeper!"

Blaine grunted and lifted his body up from Kurt's, only to ram his hips back down until his sac brushed Kurt's arse, and both of them hungrily hunted for the other's lips. Discovering what he wanted, Blaine parted Kurt's lips wide and suckled for his tongue, finding the shying muscle pressed to the roof of Kurt's mouth. He lapped his own tongue across it and sucked at it, anxious to defeat Kurt's everlasting innocence.

Kurt finally surrendered and he allowed his tongue to loosen up from his mouth, and Blaine curled his tongue around the base of it, then slid his tongue up and down, from the tip of Kurt's to the end. Arching into him, Kurt cried out into his mouth but the sound of it was swallowed into Blaine's mouth, his hips stuttering and swirling against Kurt's.

A sucking sound from below of his cock sinking in and out of Kurt's tight walls tainted the quiet air, besides what might have been Pavarotti practically purring in joy at snuggling up to his owners at the end of a long day of nothing but cameras and receiving praising compliments from his two owners afterward at what a fantastic job he did posing for the camera.

Kurt's walls tightened around him as his tip brushed his prostate, and Blaine's eyes slightly rolled up from behind his closed lids. "_Oh,_" Kurt whispered in his ear, "I-I'm close, Blaine."

"Let go," Blaine approved in his ear, knowing that just feeling Kurt coming around him and seeing the beautiful look on his face as he hit his high note would send Blaine over the edge. Kurt trembled in Blaine's arms, then his body ruptured into a spastic movement that startled Pavarotti awake. The bird chirped up at them in disapproval, but Blaine figured he could apologize later. After the first spasm passed, Kurt's body broke into a writhing mess underneath him, his nails digging into his back and scraping until the cool air burned his new cut marks. Not that he minded in the least. Hot streams of Kurt's come leaked onto Blaine's chest, and an image of Kurt licking the come off of him then pulling him into a hot kiss played in his mind, and before he knew it his brain utterly shut down, leaving his spasming body to take over as he came inside of Kurt.

Kurt's feet kicked as some of the come streamed out of his ass hole and coated the inners of his thighs, his legs wrapping tightly around Blaine like a bow. "_Blaine!_" Kurt broke the surface of his climax a moment before Blaine did, and the sex-tinted air steamed out of their pounding, perspiring, shiny skin as they panted and rolled across the bed together until Kurt lay on top of Blaine, his head cradled above his pounding heart.

Still connected between their thighs, Blaine writhed to free Kurt of his piercing cock, yet Kurt swiftly placed a hand against his shoulder, stopping him from moving, "Wait…" he pleaded hoarsely, his eyes darkening with lust, "I want to fall asleep like this. I want you inside of me when I wake up. Please? Be in my arms when I wake up, Blaine. I want to feel how softly your chest moves while you're asleep, and see your lashes flutter against your cheeks. Let me have that."

Blaine stilled his body under Kurt, his eyes narrowing as he stroked a piece of stray hair off of Kurt's forehead, "If that's what you want, angel. As long as it doesn't make you uncomfortable. I want you to get a good night of rest."

"And I will." Kurt promised him, his expression one of love and determination, "In your arms. Promise me you'll still be holding me against your chest when I wake up? Promise me." The last plead came out more as a statement than a question, giving Blaine no wriggle room—not that he really wanted any. A beautiful model who he loved begging him to stay with him throughout the night? Who could pass that up?

Blaine nodded his head, overridden by the innocent yearning behind Kurt's blue gaze, "Okay. Okay, I promise you. I'll be right beside you when you open your eyes. Get some sleep, angel. I'll keep my arms around you. I love you, sweetheart, so much." He lifted his head to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead, then one to his nose, and Kurt smiled sweetly down at him.

"I love you, too… My Blaine." Kurt curled his knees up as far as they could go without yanking Blaine out of him, and he laid his cheek against Blaine's nipple. After a few minutes Kurt's body went lax on Blaine's chest, his breathing softening, but Blaine couldn't find it in him to sleep.

For the longest time he stared up at the ceiling, stroking Kurt's back and hair, with the occasional kiss to the crown on his head, thinking of how amazing it felt to finally belong to someone who loved him. _My Blaine…_ "You're right," he whispered to the sleeping angel on his chest, "I am yours. Always."

Pressing his knuckles to Kurt's soft cheek, Blaine tilted his head the right way to stare at Kurt's pretty face, and he blinked away the burn of relieved tears that he'd met Kurt. Kurt would always be his greatest treasure and love, held higher above anything else, including Blaine's own life. So it was true, Kurt _had_ been meant for Blaine all along—tainted heart and poisoned skin aside. _I love you more than anything, _he thought simply, his lungs and heart finally opening up to the fresh air that love offered him as he admitted it to himself and allowing him to really breathe for the first time, _even me._


	27. Scream

Author's note: Hey, my readers. Sorry for the late chapter, this one took everything out of me and I had to rewrite a few scenes, but here it is! A huge thanks to JMarieAllenPoe, who gave me half of my ideas for this chapter and I'm going to do my first chapter dedication to you! SilverWhiteDragon, your review made my day and I appreciate the support! Hopefully this chapter is just as good for you :) This chapter has probably been the most challenging for me to write to date so... I'm kind of nervous about it and hope everyone enjoys it! Review! P.S. Glee has officially started shooting season four! :D Ryan Murphy, you had better keep Klaine together!

Disclaimer: Still don't own Glee. The only thing of Glee that I own is a shirt that says Glee.

* * *

Blaine lightly stirred awake a half an hour until noon to the feeling of light nips on the skin of his neck, and squeezing his eyes shut he stretched his limbs out one by one, flexing his feet all the way up to rolling his shoulders to loosen himself up. The curve of Kurt's limp back pressed to his chest, his breathing still steady and soft, and one of his legs caught between Blaine's drew an instant arousal to his lower stomach, and he pressed his hips deeper into Kurt's waist. Just like he'd promised, his soft cock was wedged deep into Kurt's ass hole, but the more time he spent awakening the stiffer he got, until he heard Kurt breathe out a soft moan.

The nips on his neck got more urgent and persistent, and a sleepy chuckle escaped his lips as his own dried, aching mouth started to search for Kurt's. "Kiss me…" he whispered breathlessly, only to pop his eyes open when a noisy twitter rang in his ear. A pair of beady, black eyes met his, and Pavarotti, who was perched on his pillow above his head, blinked down at him. He twittered and flapped again, and Blaine slightly brought himself into a sitting position while Pavarotti hopped across his pillow and nipped his hand. Beside him lay Kurt, still facing away from Blaine, his head cradled on a bent arm and his other arm stretched out across the bed. And perfectly sound asleep.

Pavarotti bowed over Blaine's palm and nipped his thumb, yanking at it as though attempting to lift it off the bed. He chirped again when a resounding knock pierced the air, and beside him Kurt mumbled softly into his pillow, rolling onto his stomach. The movement jerked Blaine's cock out of his asshole, but before Blaine could attempt to soothe his lover back into his deep sleep with a gentle back rub he knew Kurt always turned to mush over the knock that apparently hadn't been in his head beat against the door again. Unable to approach the door for the hindrance of his nudity yet hoping to keep Kurt asleep as long as possible because of his exhaustion the past two days, Blaine drew the blankets up to Kurt's bare shoulders and hissed for the person to come in themself.

In seconds the door burst open and Unique winced when it accidentally slammed into the wall and he noticed Kurt still asleep. "Sorry," he mumbled, his brows furrowing, "Usually Kurt's up at the crack of dawn. I've been calling for you guys for a good two hours. Listen, I'm taking the girls out today to see a Broadway show. I just wanted to know if you guys might want to come or if you're going to stay here."

Blaine drew his knees up under the blankets, glancing down at Kurt's gentle, small face and the dimples curved into his cheeks sticking out as he pressed one of his cheeks into the pillow. Reaching down to take one of his hands awkwardly tucked under his other arm, Blaine stretched Kurt's arm out and lay his hand in his lap, twiddling with his fingers and rubbing his knuckles. Resting on his other side, Pavarotti twittered at Unique and scampered into Blaine's lap for protection from the boy he didn't know so well as Blaine and Kurt. "I think I'm gonna keep Kurt here today. He needs to relax for tomorrow. Thanks for the offer, Unique."

"Yeah," Unique nodded, gazing oddly intently at the sleeping beauty by Blaine's hip. Uncomfortably Blaine shifted one of his legs to hide most of Kurt's soft face from Unique. "Okay. Well… if you want to know I'll be heading down to the corporate building around two to pick up the unedited pictures for the magazine. You guys can look over them. Oh, and Blaine? Last night Stanley called me and said that the governor of New York contacted him about having a dinner with Kurt tonight. He said it was something about a publicity act but he wants us at Tiffany's by seven o'clock tonight."

Blaine's eyes flew wide, and he slid a hand under Kurt's neck, "What do you mean, the governor? What does he have to do with a French model from Lima?"

Unique flipped open his phone and flicked his thumbs over the screen, then lazily replied, "And that makes Kurt an international celebrity. This is Vogue, Blaine. This isn't some tacky, at-home photographer. Now that Kurt isn't a minor he's going to be branching out. People are going to be asking to be seen with him. His life is going to change once this magazine publishes. Stanley has big plans for him. Listen, I just wanted to let you know that the hotel has closed down the pool for Kurt today in case he wants to use it—and you can only use it if he's with you. Do what you want today, but have him ready and in the limo by six thirty, Blaine. And my rule stands to never let him leave the hotel alone. Bodyguards have the hotel locked down but paparazzi are ruthless. Think you can handle this?"

Sighing when his phone buzzed, Unique held up a finger at Blaine, who gently massaged the nape of Kurt's neck, and pressed the device against his ear. "No—_No,_ Lyndsey. I said the white with the black sash—that's _one_ black stripe, not dozens, and not the zebra dress, either! Multiple stripes don't flatter with the cameras! And I told you the white eyeliner!" A brief pause as Unique stormed over to the door, latching onto the handle, "Yes, the one with the sparkles—" Ignoring that Kurt still rested against Blaine, sleeping peacefully, Unique slammed the door behind him and Kurt suddenly jerked, his blue eyes flying open.

He blinked alertly and lifted his blue gaze up to Blaine, who inwardly moaned at the disturbance and moved to cradle Kurt's head against his stomach. Kurt quietly and sleepily pressed deeper against Blaine, who stroked the side of his face and his hair, whispering to him, "Hey, honey. Go back to sleep, angel. You look so sleepy."

Blaine bent over himself to press a kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth, and Kurt frowned up at him, "What was that noise about? Did Pavarotti fall? Where is he—?"

"No," Blaine pressed Kurt back down into the blankets, desperate to force him to sleep as long as possible before being plunged into another week and a half worth of video shooting, "No, baby. Pavarotti's right here." He scooped the tiny bird who had settled onto Blaine's pillow into his palm, showing him to Kurt who bitter sweetly smiled and pressed his cheek to Pavarotti's chest, giggling when the bird trilled happily and nipped his hair playfully. "Angel, I'm going to be up and about and I'll order you breakfast for later. When you get up I'll take you down to the pool. You remember how we bought that raft for Pavarotti? I think he'd enjoy putting it to use."

Kurt pressed a kiss to Pavarotti's forehead, and the bird twittered and flapped at him, "What do you say, Pavarotti?"

Pavarotti chirped at Kurt, nipping and tugging his hair, and Kurt eased Pavarotti from Blaine's palms into his own. Once Kurt settled back into the bed with Pavarotti lowering onto his pillow, Blaine slid his legs off the bed before leaning down and brushing his lips against Kurt's. He began to pull away but Kurt swiftly laid his hand against Blaine's shoulder, gazing longingly up at him. Blaine automatically gripped Kurt's hand in his own and lifted it to his mouth, kissing each knuckle individually, "I won't leave you alone for long. Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise."

Parting his lips expectantly, Kurt sighed and closed his eyes as Blaine dipped his head down, his lips locking with Kurt's. Blaine's tongue lightly flicked out, then all too soon Blaine retracted and indented a kiss onto the tip of Kurt's ski slope nose. "Get some sleep, sweet angel," Blaine whispered in his ear, climbing off the bed.

From his spot on the bed Kurt curled himself into a ball, listening to the sound of a drawer slipping open, and then the bathroom door shutting softly. Seconds later a muffled shower spray tainted the silence of the air, and Kurt flicked his eyes to Pavarotti, who cocked his head at him. At the recognition he twittered and nuzzled Kurt's cheek, and Kurt accepted the loving attention gratefully—other than Blaine, Pavarotti was the only one on this trip who truly wanted Kurt just because he loved him. "Love you, Pavarotti," Kurt kissed the side of his bird's head, breathing in the familiar scent of his feathers, a bit of Blaine's soap, his own perfume and the loving scent of home.

A place he would never take for granted again.

* * *

Kurt stirred to the noise of buzzing by his head, and his lashes fluttered in hopes of gluing shut and fading back into sleep, mostly because he had _never_ had the ability to sleep in so long and this bed was far comfier than his mattress at home. Hugging himself to the pillow, he moaned when Pavarotti chirped in his ear, nipping his ear lobe and tugging. After a few seconds the vibrating still didn't fade away, so Kurt rolled himself onto his back and rubbed his sleepy eyes. Pavarotti chirped again and scuttled over to the edge of the bed that seemed to be closest to the vibrating, and after muffling a silent yawn Kurt stretched his muscles out.

On the desk his phone lit up and blinked at him, alerting him of a new message, so he delicately scooted off the bed and hugged the blankets to his waist, picking his phone up off the desk. He flipped it open and found two new messages, the earlier one from Rachel and the newest one from Blaine. He opened them in order, reading over Rachel's first, _Hey, you're missing out! This Broadway show is amazing! Wish you were here but rest up while you can! Heart you!_

Furrowing his brows in confusion, he scanned to Blaine's message and a warm smile tugged to his lips at the words contained within, _Hey, beautiful. Sorry I can't come up to get you but the breakfast I ordered you is taking forever to get done, so can you meet me at the pool in twenty? It's on the bottom floor and down the hallway toward the right near the front of the building. Don't worry about doing your hair or getting dressed up. It'll just be me in there and you're always perfect to me. Miss you and love you. Tell Pavarotti I love him, too, I know how he is about being ignored. Give him a kiss for me._

Kurt giggled lightly and held his phone up for Pavarotti, who had climbed up his arm and perched on his shoulder to eye the thing that had caused so much raucous. Tilting his head to the side, Kurt pressed a loving, giggly kiss to the side of Pavarotti's head, "There, that was from Blaine. He says he loves you, too. Do you want your breakfast while I take a shower? Come on." Reaching out for his robe, Kurt flung the silky material around his body and carried Pavarotti over to his cage.

Setting Pavarotti onto his branch, Kurt filled a cup with his bird seed then spilled it into his bowl, and poured a bit of water into his other dish. Pavarotti twittered and climbed up his branch, bowing over his dish of water first and lapping his tongue out. Kurt gave his bird one last stroking, whirling around and skipping into the bathroom humming a pretty tune under his breath. The air was still thick and moist from Blaine's shower, and Kurt wondered if he hadn't slept for all that long when he felt so refreshed. Or maybe that was just what Blaine's text messages did to him?

"Oh!" he gasped, realizing he hadn't yet texted him back with a reply. Whipping back around, he rushed into the bedroom and whipped his phone off the bed. He held it up and swiveled his fingers over the key pad, then read his message over to check that it was quite satisfying and flirty enough, _I'll be down in fifteen minutes! Thank you for ordering me breakfast, that's very sweet of you. I miss you and love you, too. I gave Pavarotti your kiss. If you could, tell my boyfriend that I love him._ _I'd hate for him to feel ignored._

Kurt turned away to return to his shower when his phone vibrated from behind him a mere split second later, and he lifted it into the cradle of his palm while reading the new message. _I told him, babe. And he wants you to know that your feelings are more than returned._

Touching his fingertips to his pounding heart, Kurt shivered when his skin chilled and he realized that, oh, yes, it most certainly was Blaine's text messages that made him feel more alive than he had felt since before this trip was even being planned.

For the first time in a week, he felt truly happy for once.

* * *

Wandering aimlessly through the lobby in a pair of frayed, jean shorts with a cherry red, belly shirt, Kurt brushed a finger over a fallen strand of hair straying across his forehead. Sure, he might have refused to moisturize his silky hair with any products after his shower—which that in itself was one of the hardest things for him to do, but Kurt could never admit without lying that he'd simply brushed out his hair and called it a day. After all, even if there hadn't been a minor walk down to the pool, it was still Blaine in that pool and he couldn't simply dress like a slob in front of him. They might have been comfortably in love with each other, but Kurt still enjoyed the feeling of being beautiful in front of him and knowing that Blaine's gaze was always watching him longingly.

Nipping his bottom lip and pretending to brush his hands over his shorts when a couple dressed to the tens in suits and blazers eyed him from across the room, Kurt blinked in surprise when the woman smacked her husband's hand, pointed to Kurt then whispered something about wanting him to look more like Kurt. He cast her the prettiest smile he could manage, and to his shock she subtly raised her phone as though searching for a signal, but Kurt had been taught of situations like that from Unique. When in doubt, suspect a picture is being taken.

He swiftly tore his gaze away from the woman, wishing to not be seen by any press in his swim wear without his hair at its perfect state. He only knew that his press would be all too quick to pay thousands for a picture of the beautiful Kurt Hummel on a lazy day and label him as trash for not wearing his million dollar, designer clothing.

"Monsieur Hummel!" Someone shouted from across the way, and Kurt glimpsed over his shoulder to find the manager racing up to him, gesturing for him to crease himself against the wall and not be so out in the open. The manager tugged him aside, glaring around the room before eyeing Kurt censurably, "Monsieur Hummel, are you out here on your own? This can't be good. Where is the rest of your party? I was given strict rules to never let you be out on your own."

"No," Kurt shook his head, pointing toward the hallway Blaine mentioned in his text, "It's okay. I'm meeting my b—my… um… a friend of mine at the pool. I'll close the door so no one can see me."

The manager shook his head, snapping at one of the body guards by the revolving door, "No, let me send someone to walk you the rest of the way. You never know what paparazzi will do."

Kurt waved the body guard off when he began to approach, then slipped his wrist out of the manager's hand, "_Merci,_ I appreciate your concern but, truly, it's just up there—"

"He's fine," muttered another interrupting voice, and Kurt's eyes shot to his wrist when a browned hand clamped down on it, tugging him toward a steel-like body. A damp shoulder brushed Kurt's, and his eyes trailed over the bare feet to the pair of dark, board shorts and a bare chest with a smooth, four pack painted across it. Droplets of water traced patterns down the man's body, while pearls of it gathered at the tightened, pale red nipples and huddled at the groves in his strong neck. Kurt couldn't help trembling when a muscular hand wrapped around his waist. Blaine held his hand out for the stunned manager who eyed his soaked floor with the expression of a man who had caught his wife in an affair. Despite his exposed exterior that most men would have flushed and nervously covered themselves over, Blaine remained perfectly calm as though he was addressing the manager in a suit and tie. The manager meekly clasped Blaine's hand with his own grip, and he weakly shook. "I'm Blaine Anderson. Kurt's with me—it's okay."

The manager gazed at Kurt for confirmation, his eyes bugging out of his head, and Kurt shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Yes, he's okay."

Blaine released the man's hand, nudging Kurt toward the pool, "Thanks for watching out for him." Swiveling away from the still gaping manager who swiftly wiped his palm on his dress slacks like Blaine was nothing more than a street rat, Blaine bundled Kurt against his side and kissed the top of his head. "I thought I heard someone shout your name. Mm… good morning, baby. Glad to see you up and about."

Kurt nudged him with his hip, ignoring the smack of water against his skin, "It's hardly morning any longer! I've never slept in until noon before and it feels _fantastic!_ Besides, _you're_ the one who told me to go back to sleep again. You could have gotten me up an hour ago."

Rubbing his back gently, Blaine pushed open the heavy, swinging pool door and nudged Kurt inside, then followed after him. Kurt helplessly smiled at the show of being a gentleman, glancing around at his surroundings. Blaine kissed his cheek, keeping his arm around him as they passed by the pool so Kurt didn't slip on any water, "Welcome to my world of sleeping in. Waking up at three in the morning just wasn't working for me, honey. It feels nice waking up to the sun, doesn't it? And I know I could have gotten you up whenever—and honestly, I've missed you like hell for the past hour, but you've seemed so tired lately. I wanted you to rest."

Blaine lowered Kurt onto one of the sunning chairs and knelt down by his feet to slip off his choice of a simple pair of flip flops, then rubbed his fingers into the bottoms of Kurt's feet. Kurt slid his foot from Blaine's grasp and rubbed it against Blaine's chest, his toes tangling in the patch of chest hair, and he bit his lip demurely as Blaine glanced up at him from under his hair which had fallen slightly into his face. "Thank you for letting me sleep in. I feel wonderful now. Blaine… where are the girls and Unique? Rachel texted me about a Broadway show—"

Rising to his feet again, Blaine helped Kurt slip off his belly shirt and folded it then set it aside, "Angel, they left early to go see a show, I guess. I… hope you don't mind that I didn't ask you first. It was just… so early that Unique came in to ask and I wanted you to sleep a little longer. Are you mad?"

"No," Kurt shook his head sincerely, relieved that he didn't have to deal with the girls and Unique for once, "No, I'm not mad at all. I'd rather stay here with you and Pavarotti. Besides, no theatres would ever let Pavarotti come in. So… what do you want to do today? Once we get done here do you want to… maybe watch a movie but… snuggle instead?" He unsurely bit down on his lip, hoping Blaine would pick up on what he meant.

Blaine chuckled lowly, bending for a kiss as he stood Kurt up and helped him out of his jean shorts, "Angel… I would really love to. You have no idea how much I want to. But… Listen… Unique warned me this morning that the governor of New York wants to see you for a dinner tonight at seven. I'm not sure if we'll have time for that. And once we get back here it'll be late and you need to be rested for tomorrow. Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Kurt sighed, wishing he could block it all out and hoping that for just one day he and Blaine could be alone for a full twenty four hours. Leaning into Blaine, Kurt wrapped his arms around his torso and cuddled his cheek into his chest, "I miss you." He whispered to Blaine, and Blaine pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

Shaking his head, Blaine rubbed his cheek against Kurt's hair and squeezed him tighter, understanding exactly what he meant, "We have right now," he reminded Kurt, nudging Kurt's face up to his and brushing his nose across Kurt's, "The next few hours are ours. And right now… you're mine."

* * *

Kurt waded his legs into the shallow end with Pavarotti gripping down onto his shoulder and Pavarotti's raft clutched into hands. Lowering onto the top step where water sloshed from across the pool, Kurt tucked the raft between his knees and glimpsed around for any sighting of Blaine. He assumed he was off in the locker rooms or outside taking a call from Unique, who tended to check up on Kurt far too much when they were apart and on a business trip with each other. Kurt lifted his hand to a twittering Pavarotti who instantly dug his talons into Kurt's shoulder, chirping down at the water and trembling on his shoulder.

Ignoring the needle-like pain shooting through his skin, Kurt stroked his fingers over Pavarotti's back and cooed to him, "Don't be frightened, Pavarotti. I wouldn't dunk you under the water. See, this is your raft. It'll stay afloat and you'll be safe as long as you don't hop out."

Pavarotti twittered and loosened his grip slightly, allowing Kurt to cup the tiny bird in his palms and hold him down just over the surface of the water. Craning his neck around to eyeball Kurt unsurely, Pavarotti jabbed one of his talons into the water and stretched his toes out at the chill. He puffed his feathers out and shook himself off spastically, and Kurt lightly giggled as he lowered Pavarotti into his raft he'd secretly tested out with any object the size or weight of Pavarotti in the Jacuzzi. He'd never let Blaine on that he was so anxious about Pavarotti falling in or the raft tipping over in case his weight collected towards one side of it, but the thought of his baby panicking and flapping and screaming in a deep pool of water tore into him deeper than most things ever did.

Pavarotti pounced to the nearest side of his raft where the gurgling water spitting in and out of the drain brushed the side of the raft, and he cocked his head curiously. With a moment of deep breathing from Kurt to soothe his nerves he gently pushed the raft away from his legs, and Pavarotti immediately stiffened up like a board when he realized that his raft was drifting away from Kurt. He chirped anxiously after Kurt, flapping his wings, and Kurt stretched his leg out to tug on the raft with his toe. He swirled it around in a tiny circle, giving Pavarotti a three hundred sixty degree view of the entire room, and Pavarotti twittered at his foot, fluffing his feathers. "See, Pavarotti," Kurt murmured once he himself became relaxed after discovering that the label had indeed been correct—that it wouldn't flip over if the weight was under ten pounds. "This is fun! I think you would enjoy using your raft if you weren't so stiff. Do you want me to get in with you? I could stay with you."

Lifting himself slightly up from the step, Kurt felt around with his toes for the bottom of the pool, gently easing himself in with an expectant and wriggling Pavarotti. He scooted his hands underneath Pavarotti's raft, wading him around in circles and zig zag patterns, only to nearly throw the raft in the air as somewhere behind him a bang blasted through the air, followed swiftly by thundering and water slapping, and Kurt whipped around to face the interruption right as he caught Blaine in mid-jump. Blaine belly smacked down on the water, the splash at the deep end of the pool sending twenty miniature ripples all the way down to the shallow end. Pavarotti's raft bobbed like a duck, causing his eyes to bug out of his head as he eyed the settling water cynically.

Startled by the sudden raucous resounding through the entire pool that was once silent, Kurt eyed the deep end where Blaine had sank under the water, nothing left in his wake except foaming bubbles at the surface and rocking water. After a moment of him not emerging, Kurt's insides quivered in fear that maybe he had knocked himself out. Had he slipped on the end of the concrete and fallen in? Still gripping Pavarotti's raft while the bird continued to eye the water as though something were under the surface, Kurt unsurely stepped toward the deep end and released his hold on the raft. "Blaine?" he unsurely called out, his heart pounding faster than it should have. What if Blaine was bleeding on the bottom of the pool? What if he had a concussion? Or brain damage? "Blaine," he called out a little more firmly, "Come up right now. I—"

Behind him Pavarotti twittered noisily and flapped his wings, so Kurt spun around toward his flustered bird right as a pair of hands gripped down on his thighs under the surface of the water. Kurt's mouth parted wide with a stunned scream, and he gripped down on a strong shoulder when his body was limply lifted into the cradle of Blaine's arms. Blaine tossed his head back and shook his hair out of his face, his ringlets dripping specks of water down his angled cheeks as he burst into laughter at the expression on Kurt's face. "Baby, you know I couldn't have resisted doing that to you!"

Kurt's lips trembled and his eyes shimmered yet he wasn't quite sure whether he was preparing to cry or laugh, and he thought that a mixture bubbled out of him at the joy he felt that Blaine wasn't dying on the bottom of the pool, and the anxiousness still coursing through him at being petrified so easily. Smacking his hand against Blaine's arm, Kurt buried his face in Blaine's chest and reprimanded him between his giggles, "You scared me so much there! I thought you knocked yourself into a coma—but now that I know you're okay _I_ might!"

Blaine cuddled Kurt closer, his shoulders shaking in the midst of his laughter, "Okay, I'm done with the pranks, I promise." After a moment of thinking Blaine bit the inside of his cheek, then licked his lips, "Well… I don't promise. But I'm done with them for now. You know something… you're really cute when you talk to Pavarotti. You scrunch up your nose and your dimples pop out and your voice is all soft and sweet. I think you're really beautiful like that."

Despite his inner pleasure at the sincere compliments, Kurt pushed himself slightly away from Blaine, "Oh, wait! I forgot that I need to moisturize before I get in here. If I don't I'll look like a prune tomorrow."

Blaine allowed Kurt to slip to his feet, and he scanned the two chairs lined with their items for his best weapon. If Blaine wanted to play pranks, then so did Kurt. Glancing over his shoulder at Blaine who had tilted his head, his eyes trained on his round backside, Kurt rolled his eyes and daringly popped his hip to the side just to give Blaine something to play with for a while. Seconds after he heard Blaine swear lowly under his breath, and a satisfied smile curved his lips. Kneeling down by his clothes, Kurt listened to Blaine casually announce, "I think you'd make a sexy prune, babe. Did you bring your moisturizer with you?"

Kurt shot him a significant stare, "I'm glad you approve of my becoming a prune but Monsieur Stanley most certainly wouldn't. By the way, Blaine… I want to thank you for protecting me the other day. When he mentioned BDSM? No one's ever stood up to him before. Everyone's too terrified."

Clearing his throat, Blaine shrugged and swirled Pavarotti's drifting raft around again, "It… was no big deal, angel. What he was saying about you… just… pissed me off. You have to know that I'll protect you from anything."

Nodding his head, Kurt demurely smiled at Blaine then recalled his mission and lifted one of his tacky, water flip flops into his hand and shot Blaine a high giggle, "Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton."

Blaine's eyes flew wide, and his brows hit his hairline, "What does Kate Middleton have to do with anything? Did you just compare me to a British princess—?"

Bursting into laughter at Blaine's everlasting muddle, Kurt chucked the shoe at him and it smacked into his chest before dropping like dead weight into the water. "She's a duchess, Blaine. You deserved _that_ for pranking me."

All while still not understanding the Kate Middleton reference, Blaine lunged out of the water at a shrieking Kurt who jolted to his feet and darted around the pool. Blaine burst into a running back's sprint behind him, his feet slapping against the cooling water seeping between his toes. Once he reached the opposite side of the pool, Kurt's own feet slid a little on the water so Blaine jolted himself forward and caught Kurt in the hook of his arms before he could fall. The two panted at the exhilarating rush winding them, their bodies slippery against each other's. Blowing out heavily, Blaine swept Kurt up into his arms and dropped off the side of the concrete into the pool, holding Kurt above the water until his feet firmly grazed the floor.

Clutching Kurt to his chest, Blaine ducked his head down and grazed his lips over Kurt's damp neck. "Mm…" Blaine smirked against his skin when Kurt whimpered, "Kurt? I've had fun with you today. I'm glad it was just you and me."

Kurt blew out and brushed a lock of his hair back, cradling his cheek against Blaine's chest, "Me, too. If only moments like these could last forever. Blaine… about tomorrow… are you still okay with doing the music video with me? It's okay if you're not. I'm not even sure if Monsieur Stanley will have me sing Baby, It's Cold Outside anymore. He might just have me singing Kiss."

Blaine chuckled lowly, boosting himself onto the rim of the pool and settling Kurt onto his lap. Kurt hummed approvingly into his neck and ducked his head down under Blaine's chin. "That's a sight I'd pay good money to see," Blaine laughed, crowning Kurt's head with a kiss, "Baby… whatever happens tomorrow… I'm going to be fine with it. I promised that I'd support you."

"I know," Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste, eyeing Pavarotti as he floated past them, lazily drifting along, "I suppose I'm worried that one day… you won't anymore. Monsieur Stanley is right about everything; this photo shoot is going to change my entire life, Blaine. And I'm not sure I'm ready for all of this… or if you'll be."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine touched his hand to his chest, "What does _this_ have to do with me? Kurt, you've had these dreams for ten years now. It doesn't matter if _I'm_ ready or not—"

"Yes, it does!" Kurt jerked away from Blaine to glower into his face, so Blaine swiftly snatched the waistband of Kurt's spankies to keep him from slipping off his lap, "Blaine, you _are_ a part of this now! Your decisions matter to me. I told you at Sectionals, if you came out I'd stay with you. But I also don't see why you haven't considered coming with me—"

"To _France?_"

Kurt frowned and pressed into Blaine again, briefly flicking his eyes up when from a distance away he heard Pavarotti twitter. "Yes. Why not, Blaine? You say all the time that you hate Lima. Blaine, if you came to France with me we could use my modeling money and buy an apartment somewhere. I'm currently living with my aunt but we wouldn't have to. We could move in together, get engaged and be married by next summer. Don't act like you don't have a clue what I'm talking about. My promise ring—" he held up his ring finger to remind Blaine, "—you said we'd be married one day. Why don't you come with me?"

Blaine turned his face away, his eyes growing dark and weary. Kurt knew Blaine wasn't being cold to him. This wasn't going to turn into a fight between them. It was more of a mental debate between Blaine and himself—his heart, for that matter. Before Blaine could reply, though, Pavarotti twittered again and Kurt recognized the noise of the air snapping under his batting wings. He released a soft chirp, and Kurt glanced over only to have his mouth fall open.

On the other end of the pool near the deep end Pavarotti's talons were sunken into the thick rubber Kurt swore that even nail clippers couldn't pierce, and his raft was about three seconds from completely deflating. "Pavarotti!" Kurt screamed, throwing himself off of Blaine's lap and into the water. Pavarotti chirped as he shook his foot to remove the raft, the rubber material slowly sinking into the water with Pavarotti attached to it. Pavarotti chirped louder as his other foot lost grip on a freshly deflated piece of the raft, and while Kurt ripped himself through the water feeling as if his feet had just turned to lead, a screaming Pavarotti completely submerged into the water.

Kurt, who had never learned to swim or taken lessons because he'd heard rumors that too much chlorine dried the hair and skin out, desperately clawed his way through the thick water until the pool dipped down into the deep section and he lost his footing. "Blaine!" he cried out, tears spurting from his eyes, "Get Pavarotti!"

He started to dunk under the water but the chlorine burned his already salt-water blinded eyes and another hand wrapped around his stomach, dragging him back up to the surface. Without another word Blaine dived under the water and both he and Pavarotti vanished into the deep end, while Kurt helplessly climbed his way back to the ledge and shakily watched for any signs of his bird. He wasn't sure exactly how long it'd been since Pavarotti went under, but it felt like hours. Horribly long hours that he never wanted to recall again.

After what seemed like an eternity had passed while Kurt mentally loathed himself for never learning to swim for his own selfish reasons, Blaine's dark mop of hair pierced the surface and he panted for air, using his free hand to wipe water off of his face. Unable to help himself, Kurt popped back into the water and rushed up to him, his mouth falling open with a silent scream when Blaine opened his other hand to Kurt, revealing a tiny, muddy yellow bird, his feathers ruffled and soaked and his entire body trembling. Kurt scooped Pavarotti into his own hands, pressing the bird against his neck for warmth from being dunked into the cool, pool water.

Helplessly stumbling back to the ledge and letting Blaine help lift him up onto it, Kurt's body shivered with oncoming tears that leaked from his eyes one by one, his ears picking up all of the quiet chirps Pavarotti muffled into his neck. Blaine chose to remain floating by Kurt's bent legs, his hand on one of Kurt's knees as Kurt lay the bird down on his thighs and rubbed his chest to assure he'd spat all of the water he could out.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered hoarsely, pushing his curls back with his hand, "I'm so sorry. I never would have suggested coming to the pool if I had known—"

Kurt shook his head, focusing in on Pavarotti's breathing and rubbing his chest until the tiny bird's frantically vibrating chest slowed to a smooth lifting and dropping motion, "You don't have to apologize," his lips trembled weakly, "Pavarotti accidentally popped his raft. You didn't know that would happen. Thank you for rescuing him. He's one of the loves of my life."

Kurt draped a loose arm around Blaine's neck, drawing him in to nuzzle his face against his while Blaine, who was still recovering from Pavarotti's scare, studied Pavarotti out of the corner of his eye. He remembered the day Schuester pulled him aside and chatted with him in the choir room, and he had drifted off to where the birds outside the window flew in and out, as free as the air around them, and he had wished to be like them, to fly away and leave everything behind. Pavarotti, whose wing had been damaged, obviously couldn't leave if he wanted to, but Blaine doubted that he would even if he had the chance. If his wing hadn't been damaged, would he have even flown away if Blaine opened a window for him? Blaine doubted it. And why?

Because of his undeniable love and bond with Kurt. It had always been clear to Blaine from the first moment he saw Kurt holding Pavarotti that somehow they had been meant to find each other. He knew now that had he not gone back for Pavarotti, Kurt would have. Blaine had never seen a human being react to an animal in such a way that Kurt had to Pavarotti, and the same went for Pavarotti's inability to stay away from Kurt for longer than ten minutes.

He glanced back to where Kurt's face beamed with a pretty, relieved smile and he pressed kisses into nearly every centimeter of Pavarotti's tiny face, the bird finally blinking his eyes open and twittering at Kurt. _We've both been abused. We've both been found. And despite our wounds, Kurt saw something greater in both of us that he fell in love with. _And a love as pure and selfless as Kurt's wasn't something to mock or take for granted. _Should I be so frightened?_ Blaine wondered, absorbing the devotion, trust and love in Pavarotti's eyes as he gazed up at Kurt. _Or should I just close my eyes and fall… in hopes that Kurt would be there to catch me before the final blow?_

A flash of his father's beet red face climbed into his mind, an image of him pointing and screaming at a much smaller Blaine to never trust anyone, that he would never be a man until he took responsibility for his own life, and that he had to walk each path alone.

Blaine had seen how Kurt instantly tossed himself aside and delved after Pavarotti, despite his inability to swim himself. He'd shoved every worry for himself into the back of his mind the very moment he sensed Pavarotti's endangerment. Would it be the same reaction for Blaine… or would Kurt do the smart thing and release Blaine from his grip, letting him fall? Blaine knew it'd just be easier for Kurt if he walked away from him, but for whatever reason… he and Kurt were like Pavarotti and Kurt, completely inseparable. They'd always find their way back to each other no matter the distance.

* * *

"I still can't believe Kurt gets to meet the governor of New York," Rachel plopped into the chair opposite of Blaine, and Tina and Mercedes leaned in from their sides of the table for the latest gossip. Blaine rolled his eyes at the very pitifulness of the situation. Clearly Rachel spent most of her time gossiping behind Kurt's back; it was just a matter of much she wanted to slip-up in front of Blaine, who would more than happily disclose any scandalous information about Rachel bad mouthing Kurt to Kurt. Sure, he wouldn't dare tell Kurt of the specifics that Rachel mocked of him just so _he_ could feel bad about himself because of Rachel's own insecurities, but so long as he had good ground to stand on in kicking Rachel out of the picture, Blaine had done his job well.

Blaine flipped open his phone to check the time, spying that it was nearing a quarter after six. Unique had run him out not too long ago to go to work on Kurt's hair and give him a pep talk of everything he should say and everything he shouldn't. He'd planned to head down to the boutique down the road to pick up a brooch or some flowers for Kurt just as a reminder that he loved him as much as Kurt probably hoped he did and more, when Rachel had spotted him on her way down to the café with Mercedes and Tina at her heels and invited him along.

And for whatever reason—his urging to listen in on the girls and wait for them to blurt out their bad mouthing ammo that he could use against them or just a brief malfunction in his brain—he'd agreed.

Tina leaned forward in her chair, slurping from her banana smoothie as Blaine shoveled his hands in his hair, glancing around for his nearest exit in case the need to run out screaming overwhelmed him enough by the fifteenth slurp. "Why didn't Kurt tell us he was so famous? He should have. He wouldn't have to do anymore schoolwork and Karofsky would leave him alone." _Oh, how wrong you are,_ Blaine added silently, narrowing his eyes in disgust at the mistakes. Karofsky, obviously triggered by how much of an audience he had and who his victim was, would only find it funnier to molest Kurt if he knew the world was watching him do it, consequences aside. "Hurting a normal high school kid is one thing. Now Karofsky could be legally sued by Vogue for harassing Kurt."

Mercedes rolled her eyes, fingering a muffin, "A lot of stuff could happen now that Kurt's a professional. We have to keep this on the down low, guys. If the judges for Regionals and Nationals found out, he'd be disqualified. We need him."

"I doubt it," Rachel grumbled, "He'd somehow get to perform anyway. Kurt gets everything he wants. Think about it. Have we ever met a single person who refused Kurt anything?"

"Rachel," Mercedes sighed and pushed her muffin away, slowly losing her appetite, "We know you're still upset about Carmen Tibideaux but remember who we're talking about. This is Kurt. Hating him because he's more famous than you would be like… hating Barbra Streisand for the same reason. You're here to support her, so do the same for Kurt."

Rachel slumped back in her chair, then suddenly lifted her eyes to Blaine and narrowed them cynically. He turned his head away in swift rejection. "What do you guys think the governor wants with Kurt? It isn't like Kurt has anything to do with New York."

"I don't know," Mercedes scooted her muffin back toward her, "but I heard his son, Shane, is _so_ cute and has this _major_ crush on Kurt."

"Who doesn't?" Rachel muttered lowly, and the girls briefly glanced at her before looking back at each other.

Tina giggled and nudged Mercedes with her elbow, "You just think so because he's blond and looks like Sam."

Mercedes opened her mouth in mock offense, "I can't help that I have great taste in guys. Do you think Kurt might be able to get us into this dinner? I've always wanted to see the inside of Tiffany's. You know, the movie was based off of the restaurant. I've heard it's really classy."

Helplessly Blaine swiveled around in his chair, muttering lowly, "No, Truman Capote wrote the book first, and then they made the restaurant for the movie set. Some famous chef bought the restaurant away and rather than turn it into a museum he opened it up as a real restaurant for millionaires, billionaires and celebrities." Sinking into his seat when his correction was met only by Tina's awkward, half smirk, Rachel's still narrowed eyes and Mercedes' cocked brows, Blaine cleared his throat and turned away once more, "It's one of Kurt's favorite movies. We used to watch it a lot." When after a moment they still didn't say anything except Mercedes leaning in and pointing to Tina, then whispering something and bobbing her head toward Blaine, Blaine slid his chair back and started to stand, "Um… I'm gonna go check on Kurt. Pavarotti probably needs fed, too, before we leave—"

"Blaine, wait," Mercedes blurted, nodding toward his chair, "You don't have to leave. Sit down, we don't bite. You must have heard what the glee kids have been saying about you."

Blaine rolled his eyes at the thought of the insults about to come, yet threw himself down anyway, "Oh, I've been hearing enough shit to last a life time. Go on, shoot. What could the glee kids possibly have to say new about me?"

Mercedes leaned forward toward Blaine, shooting him a small smile like she knew something he didn't, "Well, Mr. Schuester let us in on the spring play. West Side Story. _And_ he thinks you could play the perfect Tony. Normally he'd have Kurt play the lead, but he said he thinks Kurt is a little too delicate for West Side Story and wants him to sit this one out. Don't tell Kurt, okay? I've heard how much he loves West Side Story and it might hurt his feelings if he finds out. It was either this or Rocky Horror Show and… the only part Kurt might be able to play in that was the transvestite, and Schuester thought that might hurt Kurt's feelings worse. So, do you think you'll do it?"

Blaine's jaw stiffened slightly, and he rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't know. I don't act, Mercedes. I barely sing. Why can't Finn do it?"

Tina's eyes narrowed and she _tsk_ed at him, "Do you honestly think Finn could pull off a reformed thug? Mike's dad won't let him do the play at all because it's about thugs, Artie has his wheel chair and Puck could do it but he has community service after school for the next two months and it'll interfere. I mean, Kurt _could_ do it but, Blaine, Kurt's far more suited for a part like Maria. _But _this is Ohio, Maria's traditionally played by a girl and as much as we'd like to, the copyright won't let us change her name to Mario and turn her into a _him._ Besides, there's a kissing scene between Tony and Maria in the fifth act and another at the end, and as much as us girls love Kurt, kissing him would be as awkward for us as kissing another girl. And I'm sure Kurt wouldn't like it, either. You're our last option."

Blaine rubbed the side of his face with his knuckles in a bored fashion, "And Maria would be?"

Rachel slammed her fists down on the table, lurching out of her chair until a busboy wiping another table glared her down at the disturbance, "Maria will be me but you _won't_ be Tony! Just because you've beat up more people than Finn makes you think you can play the part of a thug better than him? Look, if I'm going to play Maria—which I _will_—you're not going to be Tony because I won't kiss you! I can't even stand to breathe the same air as you! Just do what you always do and _leave!_"

Tina and Mercedes both jumped in surprise, while Blaine continued to stare at Rachel wondering what he'd done this time to cause her to outburst. What, did he blink the wrong way? While Mercedes parted her lips to scold Rachel, Blaine growled at her, "Rachel, you invited me the fuck here! What did I do this time? Why do you suddenly hate me again? I thought we were actually getting somewhere—"

"We'll never get anywhere!" Rachel screamed at him, "You're always going to be the same, Blaine! You're never going to change and I'm always going to hate you! I don't understand why you're here and why everyone trusts you! I try to trust you but then it's like… you're so confused about everything and I have no idea what your next move will be. I hate feeling like you're changing, Blaine, because I thought you'd change for me but then you posted those pictures of me all over the school and I—" Tears spurted from Rachel's eyes and she pressed her knuckles into her lips, shaking her head as the other two girls eyed each other, then looked between Blaine and Rachel like a tennis match, "I don't want anything like that to happen to Kurt. Yes, I'm jealous of him. Yes, I want to have the fame he has. But he's still my best friend and I want to know what your plan is!"

Blaine simply cocked a brow, "My plan? Wait… What _pictures?_ What are you talking about?"

Mercedes sighed while Rachel covered her face with her hands, "You remember last year when you and Rachel broke up? She told us she wanted you to be her first time but you asked for nudist pictures instead then overnight copied them and taped them all over the school. Then you skipped for a month and wouldn't talk to her about it afterward. Rachel, what does any of this have to do with West Side Story? Blaine hasn't done anything to hurt Kurt—why would he start now? I thought you'd gotten over the pictures. You know, forgive and forget?"

Rachel shook her head, mumbling into her palms, "This would have nothing to do with West Side Story if you wouldn't insist on Blaine being Tony. Blaine… we need to talk. Alone."

Blaine's eyes flew wide, and he glanced between a stunned Tina and Mercedes, the former awkwardly stirring her smoothie while the latter cleared her throat and pushed away from the table. She nudged Tina's shoulder, who sent one last look between Rachel and Blaine then scampered after Mercedes. The pair glimpsed one last time over their shoulders, then pushed out of the café. Blaine, who was more shocked than any of them, stiffened as Rachel lifted her head, her nose runny and bright red, and she slid into a chair closer to Blaine's. Blaine scooted back in his seat until the bars from the chair grinded into his back, "Rachel… I really don't—"

Rachel held up the palm of her hand, "Let me talk, okay? I just… can't handle this anymore. This is hard, Blaine. I don't understand you—and I know I'm not the first. You know… you really hurt me when you posted those pictures of me all over the school."

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Blaine leaned away from Rachel, "What pictures?"

"The ones you asked for the night before we broke up!" Rachel blurted at him, her hands clenching as though mentally strangling him, "Dammit, Blaine, don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about! I called you and wanted you to come over but you laughed at me and asked for pictures of me nude! Then you posted them all over school, you asshole! And I swear, if you ever do something like that to Kurt you'll be sorry you did—"

"Rachel!" Blaine threw his hands up, "I don't know what you're talking about!" At her severe expression Blaine sighed and shook his head, "Yes, you gave me nudist pictures but I didn't post _those_ all over school. I gave them to Karofsky and he probably masturbates to them or whatever but _I_ never posted any pictures of you. I'm not _that_ big of an asshole."

"You gave them to Karofsky?" Rachel shrieked, her vision going white, "Blaine, he must have been the one to post them! Why would you give them to him?"

"Because he threatened my reputation," Blaine slouched slightly in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, "He told me… if I didn't give them to him he'd tell everyone you and I had sex. And… I thought you were a loser back then. I dated you for that reason… because I thought if I dated a loser you wouldn't beg me for sex. Then you started to and Karofsky knew how I hated being called easy for dating Brittany, and having sex with you would have only confirmed that."

Attempting not to take offense to Blaine's explanation, Rachel swallowed down the lump in her throat, "But you had sex with Quinn and Santana after dating me. And that kind of confirmed that you were an easy man-whore."

Blaine winced at the loosely tossed word, and he licked his lips, "Well… after Quinn took my virginity by getting me drunk when she found out she was pregnant then told me the baby was mine from our drunken night together because I had money… I stopped caring what people called me. I thought… if they were going to call me names, I might as well just own it and enjoy it while the opportunity's there."

"But you didn't," Rachel suggested softly, amazed that Blaine had opened up to her when usually he'd only say three words per day to her, "You didn't enjoy dating Santana or Quinn. Or me or Brittany, for that matter."

Lightly shaking his head, Blaine stared down at his lap, "No, I didn't enjoy dating any of you. Look… Rachel… I'm sorry for what happened to you… because of me. It was selfish… what I did at your expense. I can't change what happened but… I would never do something like that to Kurt. He's my best friend and I do love him. No matter what happens I'd always put him first."

Rachel licked her lips, wondering if she should tell him what she'd seen or hold off. Maybe he was ready for apologizing for what happened to her, but she wasn't quite sure if he'd be ready to find out that he and Kurt had been spotted. That in itself might make him withdraw or attempt to leave Kurt. Instead, she kept her distance and nodded her head, "I forgive you, Blaine. And… I'm sorry… for trying to demand sex out of you. I'm sorry for all of the things I've said to you. The only real reason I dated you was because you were popular and I wanted status."

Blaine nodded his head, slowly closing back up into his protective shell, "I know. All the girls I dated did for that reason."

Managing a meek smile, Rachel held out her hand for Blaine, who simply eyeballed it without twitching, "I guess we're both at fault, then. Does this mean a truce? I'm going to trust you if you'll trust me—and no more jabs at each other?"

Within seconds, Blaine jolted out of his chair in rejection and he shook his head, "No. I don't trust easy. This doesn't mean anything, Rachel. My apology was just to mean that I respect you as a woman and understand why you got upset that your privacy was invaded because of something I did. I don't hate you… but I also don't like you. Get it?"

Rachel's blood ran cold in her system, and fresh tears burned her eyes at the ice behind Blaine's golden gaze. She shook her head at him, "No, I get what you mean perfectly. And at least one of us doesn't hate the other."

Jerking past him, Rachel stormed out of the room loathing herself for the tears dribbling down her cheeks, because that meant she actually felt something for Blaine other than hate. She _cared_ about him, and as much as he wanted to push her away… she still wanted to pull him in.

* * *

"There," Unique pinched Kurt's cheeks, flaming them alive with natural color, "I'm all finished."

Kurt blew out the breath he had been holding for the past ten minutes, and he wheeled around to face the mirror where a neatly coiffed boy stared back at him, blue eyes bright with the shadow of his Baby Aqua eye shadow primped with sparkles. A touch of Pink Frost lip blush bolded the delicate curve of his pale lips and dragged out more of the pink hues from behind his nearly colorless lips. To match the occasion Unique had coiffed his hair perfectly down the middle and curled the very tips of it, giving him a professional appearance. Besides the bath towel he wore since he refused to let Unique dress him—one of the few things Unique suggested he work on getting over by the time he returned to France—Kurt thought he looked rather beautiful. Or… at least, he hoped he did. Luckily his skin hadn't pruned from the chlorine, at least, he thought with a brief smile before wiping it away.

"_Merci,_ Unique," Kurt murmured softly, shifting around in his chair, "Have you heard… what the governor wants to see me for?"

"I'm not sure," Unique brushed his fingers over Kurt's brows, smoothing them out from where they had been recently plucked, "Stanley just said that Mr. Hastings wants to meet with you at seven and… that was it. He said he sounded pleased about it, though, so I'm assuming he won't accuse you of being an illegal immigrant. Which perfume is best for an occasion like this, your Tea Rose or the Désirade?"

Kurt wrinkled his nose at the choices, "Neither. What about my Ciara Femme Fatale that Blaine bought me for our—?"

Unique held up a finger, "I don't want to know! You're trying to come off as a polite professional, not get him in bed with you. Fine, how about the Boudoir? It gives off _friendly acquaint._"

Resting his cheek against his palm, Kurt shook his head, "No, the Boudoir is private between Blaine and I. He hates when I wear it in public. Unique, this isn't working. My only other two options are my Chloe and the Bel Ami. My Chloe is a little too warm and strong for the dress and dinner at Tiffany's, and I hate wearing my Bel Ami because it has a spicy tinge to it after I wear it for so long so Blaine wears it more than I do. Do you have any perfumes for me?"

Unique shrugged a shoulder, "You wouldn't like any of them. All I have is Chevignon, Cest Si Bon and Brut Actif Blue. Tomorrow I'm taking you perfume shopping. You need sweet and simple for all occasions. You remind me a little of Pink."

Kurt's brows shot to his hair line, "By Victoria's Secret? Of all of the designers, I remind you of Victoria's Secret? I'm not sure whether to be complimented or insulted." He laughed lightly, "I've always thought of myself as more Paris by Yves Saint Laurent. That's the kind that I wore the day I met Blaine. I think it's significant. Then again, I could always buy Pavarotti by Luciano Pavarotti. Speaking of him, where is my little bird?"

Unique twisted his head around from Kurt's collection of perfumes, handing him the Ferentina. "Here, use this. It's the most appropriate for this dinner. You can layer it with your Ombre Rose. It gives professional while drawing your media in."

Although doubtful, Kurt spritzed his neck with the Ferentina and his wrists with the Ombre Rose. "The only thing my Ombre Rose is going to draw in is Blaine. This is one of his few weaknesses."

Unique glowered at him, "I think _you're_ his only weakness and you just happen to be around other people where he can't attempt to eat your face when you wear your other perfumes. Now, when you pull on your dress, have Blaine help you out. I don't want you trying to pull it on alone. I just filed your nails and if you scuff them up I'll personally hunt you down and make you do the hair, makeup and outfits of thirty models a day. You'll see how difficult my job is. And when you wear your scarf, don't wrap it around your neck. You'll come off as cold and separate from the others. Drape it over your elbows and bend your arms. And _don't_ shake anyone's hand. You'll appear manly, aggressive and in-your-face. If he holds out his hand in shaking form, keep yours near your body, slightly bend your wrist and just let your hand hang. Make him come to you. And don't let him kiss your hand. It'd be best to wear a glove, actually. A white, wrist glove only and when you take it off for your meal set it in your lap, not on the table—"

Kurt released a high pitched laugh, "_Unique._ Okay, I understand what you're saying. I know my manners."

Shaking his head, Unique touched his hand to his heart and finally gave a smile, "Alright. I'm just stressed because this is _huge,_ Kurt. You're meeting with a governor! I'm so proud that you've come so far under my teachings. I've done well with you. Kurt… I really do love you and I think you'll do well out there. I would hug you right now but you look like a masterpiece."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt held his arms open anyway and Unique bitter sweetly bent to sink into them. The scent of Paris wafted off of Unique, reminding Kurt of the perfect life he'd been living before his father's heart attack. "You smell like home," Kurt whispered to him, squeezing him tighter and Unique responded by also tightening his grip, but only slightly so he didn't bruise Kurt.

Suddenly, though, Unique tore away from him and shouted out, "Hey!" to something behind Kurt, and Kurt whirled around to find Pavarotti nested into his silver, silk scarf, his eyes happily closed as he slept peacefully curled into the fabric, his body vibrating as though he were almost purring. "Kurt, get your bird off of that! He's wrinkling it! Pavarotti, move!"

Kurt protectively moved in front of his bird, holding down his helpless giggles by biting his tongue, "He likes sleeping there, though. It's simple enough to add a brooch to the dress to complete the look. My butterfly brooch with the two sapphires would look perfect at my hip. Pavarotti's had a rough day—can't we forget the scarf?"

Unique crossed his arms stubbornly, but finally surrendered with a sigh, "That damned scarf cost a good two hundred dollars. That bird had better be worth the dent in my wallet, Kurt."

"He is," Kurt confirmed, running his thumb over Pavarotti's cheek. Without opening his eyes Pavarotti released a soft twitter, his feathers automatically fluffing to Kurt's touch. "At least the silver compliments his yellow tones. He always has had fashionable tastes."

"This isn't funny, Kurt," Unique grumbled, yet Kurt noticed the corners of his lips twitching, anyway.

Both of them glanced over their shoulders at the sounds of the bedroom door swinging open, and Blaine called out, "Honey, where's Pavarotti? I need to feed him before we leave." Blaine's dark head of curls swung into the doorway, and his eyes slightly widened at the sight of Unique standing there with his having just called Kurt _honey._ "Oh," Blaine cleared his throat and rubbed the nape of his neck, "Hey, Unique. I thought you'd left already."

"Just finished up," Unique winked knowingly at Kurt, "Kurt… the brooch. I expect to see it on your dress. I'll meet you in the limo in a half an hour. Blaine, your Ciara Femme Fatale is waiting for you."

While Kurt's mouth fell open and Blaine whipped around to face Unique as he meandered off, Unique smirked at both of them and vanished into the bedroom. Seconds later the main door swung open then clamped back shut, alerting them that they were completely alone. Blaine chose to shrug off what appeared to be an inside joke between he and Kurt, leaning over Kurt when his lover lowered into a chair and pressing a kiss to his forehead then down to his lips, "Mm… I haven't talked to you since over an hour ago. You look pretty."

Kurt opened his mouth on Blaine's, and the two parted with a soft _pop_, "I missed you. Do you mind helping me with my dress? It's a zip-up so it'll only take a minute."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded his head, "Sure, babe. Is it the one hanging up over there?" Stepping over an emptied out makeup kit, Blaine unhooked the simple, fifties' style, white dress with a knee length, silk skirt and a thinned waist with a black sash sewn into the material. The thicker material of the bodice was held up by a pair of two-finger length straps. "I… uh… talked to the girls while I was out."

Kurt flicked his eyes to Blaine, "You did?" He loosened the front of his tightly tied towel, peeling it away from his skin and revealing a cream pair of spankies underneath. Blaine took his wrist into his hand and helped him to his feet, carefully holding onto Kurt's side as he knelt down by Kurt's feet. He listened to the sound of a zipper and placed one hand firmly on Blaine's strong shoulder. "What did you talk about? Were they kind to you?"

Blaine cocked a single brow, taking Kurt's foot in his hand, "Can you lift your leg, baby?" Once Kurt complied with him and he set his foot back down into the hole of the neck of the dress, Blaine cleared his throat and bit down on the inside of his cheek, "I think they were nice. I mean… I'm not really sure what to think right now. Mercedes and Tina… seemed to want me around them."

Kurt lifted his other leg when Blaine gripped that foot, carefully balancing himself out, "And Rachel?"

Blaine skimmed the dress up Kurt's thighs, slowly rising to his feet then jerking the dress around to its proper position. He grasped onto Kurt's thighs to hold the dress up as he met Kurt's blue gaze with his own, and he shrugged a shoulder, "I don't know about Rachel. Sometimes she hates me and sometimes she doesn't. I'm the same way with her. The good thing is that I only need you." Leaning in for another kiss, Blaine frowned when Kurt pushed on his chest, his thumbs looping through the straps of Blaine's wife beater.

"But what about the day that I'm sick and miss school?" Kurt suggested, arching a single brow, only to correct himself when Blaine opened his mouth to reply, "And don't you dare tell me you would skip with me. Blaine… you've got to be willing to make other friends. I'd hate if you felt alone one of these days because the entire glee club really does want to love you—well… except for Santana, Quinn and Brittany. They're all looking out for you. Promise me that if I talk to them and tell them how amazing you are you'll spend just one day of quality bonding time with them? At least the boys. You could have Puck, Finn, Sam, Mike and Artie sleep over one night. I think it'd be good for you."

"What about you?" Blaine reminded him, "I don't want you sleeping in the same room with them. It's not that I don't trust you… It's just… When you sleep, you're kind of… mine. I don't want to share that with anyone—especially not boys."

"I'll sleep over at Rachel's," Kurt suggested, "And I promise that my sleepover would be boy-free. Blaine… will you? One night is all I'm asking of you. If you don't like it I'll never ask anything like that from you again."

Blaine rolled his shoulders, anxious to please Kurt at any turn of a corner but also unsure of how he would go about walking up to the five people who he barely knew or used to hate and asking them to sleep in Kurt's house with him—when Kurt wasn't even there. The more he thought about it the less appealing it sounded. "I don't know," he shook his head, "I'll think about it, babe."

Kurt nodded his head, pressing his lips to Blaine's cheek, "Thank you for at least thinking about it. I think you might enjoy it. They're not as threatening as they seem, I promise. I think you and Finn could bond the most. He acts very brotherly with everyone who becomes his friend." Glancing over at the clock and considering he hadn't even slipped his shoes on yet or given Blaine a chance to change clothes, Kurt blinked at Blaine and started to spin around, "Zip me up?"

* * *

Stepping into the threshold of Tiffany's reminded Kurt of the way he'd felt when he was eight years old and moving off of his plane, for the first time ever planting his feet on French soil. Despite the dejected overcast of knowing that he'd be driving straight to the funeral house while his weeping father guided him through the airport, constantly wiping his own eyes so Kurt wouldn't have to see him break down, the land, air and people around him had seemed magical, otherworldly. Unlike Ohio, everyone scuttled around with places to be, either dressed in business suits or wearing intricate outfits that had inspired him even as a child. It was like taking stale ice cream and masking the soured taste with whipped cream.

At his and Unique's arrivals nearly everyone in the building stopped what they were doing to eyeball the French designer and model like Unique and Kurt were something they'd never even imagined existed. Holding his head high, Kurt glanced over at Blaine when the dark headed man sidled up next to Kurt, touching his hand to Kurt's shrunken waist and tugging uncomfortably at his collar. On his shoulder Pavarotti cocked his head at Blaine and twittered, his feathers fluffy and bright after a warm bath and a blow out from the lightest setting on Kurt's hair dryer. His bell jingled at his bobbing, momentarily distracting him into ducking his head down and pinching it in his beak to shush it.

Within seconds a young manager approached them and instantly eyed Kurt, who managed a meek smile as the man gestured them forward. "Monsieur Hummel and Unique!" the man boldly clasped Kurt's gloved hand in his own, pressing it warmly, "It's an honor and delight to have you both here. The governor and his son have been seated in the back room to avoid media. Is that quite alright?"

Unique stepped forward and Kurt peeled his hand away, only to have it claimed by Blaine who played with his fingers and stroked the soft spot on Kurt's palm as though to wipe away the man's touch and replace it with his own. "Absolutely. We're thrilled to be dining at the fabulous Tiffany's. We brought a few more than expected," Unique glanced over his shoulder at the giggling girls, each pointing at famous paintings they recognized from the movie, "Is that alright?"

"Perfectly," the man replied cordially, "If you'll follow me I'll offer you our finest selections of wine. Monsieur Hummel, if it is my place, I'd love to inform you that my son and I are perfectly ecstatic for your new photo shoot. Vogue made an excellent decision in bringing you back."

Kurt smiled demurely, sticking beside Blaine for comfort, "The photo shoot was one of the best things I've done with my career," he admitted softly, his cheeks flushing, "I'm grateful for your support."

Sensing Kurt's anxiety, Blaine wrapped a crisp-shirted arm around Kurt's waist and pulled him closer. The two of them meandered through a glass door leading back to a candlelit room where a make out scene had occurred in the movie, and everyone who had seen the movie instantly flushed at the idea of it. Blaine tugged at his collar again, wrinkling his black tie. Round tables clustered around the entire table, while the light flickering from the candles danced over the white tablecloths and painted them the color of Pavarotti with every flick of a breeze. One near a wall sized window looking out upon the garden out back and a moon filled sky was overtaken by a slender, balding man and a shaggy, blond haired boy who looked to be around Kurt's age with the face of Austin Butler.

The governor—who Kurt still hadn't quite learned the first name of—jerked out of his chair at the sight of their entrance and bowed formally in their direction, while Austin Butler distractedly eyeballed Kurt from across the room, his beach-boy-tanned neck flaming with a sudden heat. Snapping his finger subtly at his son, the governor jerked Butler awake and the boy lurched out of his chair, also bowing while holding his eyes completely to Kurt. The governor strode across the room to the group of them, pausing in front of Unique and shaking his hand, "Unique, I'm honored to finally be meeting you. You're such an inspiration." At Unique's acknowledging nod the governor whipped around to Kurt and his eyes warmed, and he slid his hand under Kurt's gloved hand and bowed over it. "And Monsieur Hummel. Even more beautiful in person, _ma beauté._"

Kurt withdrew his hand after what he thought might be a polite amount of time of allowing the governor to dote over him but not go too far with things, and he touched it awkwardly to his neck, unsure where to place it now, "_C__harmé._ _Pardon,_ I haven't caught your name."

The governor took a step back, allowing the girls to pass by and each crowd around the seats next to Butler, who eyed them as though they were insane prison escapees, then he pushed himself away from the table in favor of approaching Kurt. "_Excusez-moi,_ I'm Governor Alec Hastings but feel free to call me Alec, and this is my son, Shane. We are both so grateful you decided to meet us this evening. I know it was unexpected but we came across an offer we were sure you couldn't resist."

Guiding them back to the table, Alec lowered into a chair beside of Rachel and Unique decided to occupy the seat on his other side, while Shane gently smiled down at Kurt and nudged him by his waist toward a chair on the opposite side of the table. Startled by the bold move, Kurt swiftly glanced over his shoulder at Blaine who appeared purely stunned by the move, his shoulders arching back and his chest tensing up as he glared down the back of Shane's head. Shane pulled out a chair for Kurt, and to not cause a scene that the media would go crazy over and sell Kurt out as a rampaging prude who rejected all boys, Kurt obediently lowered into it and bit down a wince of agony when Shane stole the seat beside of him. The only available seat remained to be the one beside of Mercedes, who was giving Shane goo-goo eyes from across the table and twirling a stray curl that had fallen from her chiffon around her finger.

"Hey," murmured a quiet voice beside him, and Kurt attempted not to sneer as he desperately followed a seething Blaine with his eyes, anxious to give him a telepathic apology. "Am I the first to welcome you to New York? I know my dad already said it, but thanks for coming today. You're my biggest idol."

Kurt managed a meek smile at Shane, trembling just under the pressure of Blaine's eyes staring him down from across the table, "_Merci._ Oh, you're wearing one of my newest brooch collections I designed with Unique last spring. The blue and red turtle looks amazing with your skin tones."

Shane glanced down at his tux where a brooch resided, and he smiled sheepishly before his father snapped his fingers again, reminding Kurt of Stanley's nasty habit that caused his skin to rub and his fingers to dry out and blister. Kurt held down a grimace as he glanced up at Alec, with a patiently waiting server standing slightly behind him. "Shane," Alec tried for an irritated expression, "Why don't we save the private conversations for later? I'm sure we all have questions for Monsieur Hummel that need urgent answers."

Shane licked his lips and sank down into his seat, but whispered out a brief, "Can I get your number later? We could stay in touch."

Blaine, who suddenly appeared to be gifted with supersonic hearing, stiffened at that last and flicked his eyes between Kurt and Shane, but well aware of the paparazzi that had swarmed the limo on the way in and were most likely waiting out front, he kept his mouth shut and turned his gaze to the waiter. Alec, appeased by Shane's compliance, nodded at the waiter, "Seven rounds of the Domaine Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet Les Folatières 1er Cru. It'll taste like home to you, Kurt, won't it?" Alec teased him playfully, but Kurt, who had never drank alcohol before or had such an expensive beverage even in his line of sight, merely smiled and hoped he could play along well enough.

"Sorry," Rachel lifted her finger in a pointing form, "but all of us are under aged. We don't drink. I'll take a water, thank you."

Unique slightly widened his eyes, and he flashed a coarse look to Rachel who shrugged innocently, "She's teasing, obviously. Rachel, a little wine won't hurt you. The order stays."

The waiter silently nodded, his eyes trained to Kurt, "Alright, thank you. I'll be back momentarily with your complimentary salads and wines."

Alec leaned back in his chair, ignoring the frantically whispering girls over how their fathers would kill them if they found out about the alcohol, and he folded his hands across his lap, "So, Kurt, tell us what it's like being one of the most sought after celebrities in the better half of France."

Kurt clamped down on his folded up silverware, his throat tightening up just as it always did when he felt a trick interview coming on. He swiftly glanced around for cameras at the ready to edit out the words they didn't want and make him come off as something he wasn't, but he didn't spy any at the first sweep of his eyes so he focused on Alec, "It's been amazing and the support is wonderful but it's nice being home with my dad again."

Alec cocked a curious brow at Kurt, "And your father obviously left you in France at a very young age. What was it like raising yourself?"

"I didn't," Kurt licked his lips, "My aunt took me in. She worked during the day but she was nearly always with me."

"Dad," Shane put in, rolling his eyes in annoyance, "What, are we interrogating him or having dinner with him? Sorry about all of this. You're probably still wondering why we asked you here. The thing is, I used to model for Chanel like you model for Vogue and I've been hoping to use my celebrity stardom and money to get me into the acting business. Last summer I was discovered by Baz Luhrmann… the director of the Leonardo DiCaprio version of Romeo and Juliet. Have you seen it?"

Kurt shook his head, tilting his head slightly at Shane.

"Oh," Shane flushed, reaching under the table for Kurt's knee. Kurt immediately withdrew, his eyes widening slightly. Blaine noticed the sudden jerking movement from across the table and Kurt sensed his eyes narrowing cynically. "Well… Baz said I'd be perfect for his upcoming, modern day version of Beauty and the Beast. You've seen a remake of that, right?"

"Only a Broadway show." Kurt mumbled, "In French."

Shane nodded, "I expected an answer like that out of you. Well… the filming won't begin for probably another year because he's still working on sets, props, the entire cast—other than my part and I think he's gotten around to casting Lumière…" He narrowed his eyes slightly, racking his brain for any other cast members he'd heard about, then shook his head, "Never mind about that, though. I was wondering… You know, Baz has really started to branch out into different types of societies in movies, and he mentioned something about doing… a homosexual version of Beauty and the Beast, a-and I was thinking… since you're already so beautiful, that you'd play the perfect Beauty. And I'd be the Beast. That's why I asked you here. I was going to email you or something, but when I found out you were coming to New York I called your manager and, like I said before, I'm so grateful you decided to come. The movie could be great publicity for you in America. You'd have about a half a year to think about it, and we were actually thinking about shooting in France which could be really convenient for you—"

"Wait," Blaine's voice cracked through the air, "Baz Luhrmann? His movies are all about sex. Moulin Rouge? Australia? The Great Gatsby? They're all sexist, porn movies. Let me guess, Kurt would be playing the little, helpless Lois Lane while you're the heroic, horny Clark Kent? If my comment means anything… been there, done that. Besides, what the hell makes you think Kurt could handle doing sex scenes in front of a camera?"

Everyone at the table dropped their jaws at Blaine's blunt tone and choice of colorful language, while Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and dared anyone to retaliate. Kurt closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten, hoping by the time he finished he'd wake up and discover he'd dreamt this entire thing up. Alec, who hadn't caught on to Blaine's harsh tone quite yet, gestured to an envelope beside him, "Well, these do. Here are Kurt's modeling pictures from yesterday—the unedited versions. These were some of the best, even though I have no idea who that man is with him. He's a very attractive fellow, but Dakota Stanley didn't give him a name."

"Your modeling pictures?" Rachel blurted, snatching for the pictures when Alec tossed them to the middle of the table. "Oh, Kurt, why didn't you tell us we'd get to see them early? I'm beyond excited for this!"

Kurt flushed and shrugged, and Shane nudged him with his own shoulder, "You looked _really_ good in the pictures, and Dakota said that the pictures needed so little editing the magazine should have them in within two weeks. Who was the guy you modeled with, though? I'd never seen him in a Vogue magazine before."

Flicking his eyes to Blaine, Kurt's lips parted silently when Blaine mutely shook his head at him, and Kurt, although disappointed, blinked blankly at Shane, "I didn't catch his name. Unique, how many did they decide on?"

Unique smirked at him, "Stanley said there were too many good ones, so he decided on the top five. We're previewing two of them in the magazine, and then three of them will be used for stickers for the windows or on billboards. You could even take one for yourself and use it for your résumé for Broadway."

"He'd hardly need it," Shane snickered, "No one could turn him away. So… about the movie, do you think you'll consider it? We could work around whatever projects you're doing at the time—whether it's Broadway or modeling. Do we have a deal?"

Mindlessly Kurt leaned across the table to eye the pictures as Rachel spread them out, and he immediately blanched. From across the table Blaine cleared his throat uncomfortably, playing with his collar again. The first picture revealed an image of Kurt completely laid back across the bench, his skin white and porcelain under the lights while the majority of the backdrop came off as black and inky, giving him a glowing appearance. His arms and legs swung limply off the side of the bench, his eyes glassy and almost doll-like while Blaine knelt down on the side of the bench furthest from the camera, a fake chain dangling from the wall in the background clasped around his wrist and holding his arm up loosely. His other hand clutched Kurt's cheek, his face extremely close to Kurt and appearing as though their bottom lips almost brushed.

"Damn," Mercedes suddenly snorted, "who was that boy, Kurt? He is _fine._ He looks a little like—"

Rachel abruptly snapped, "Johnny Depp in the nineteen-nineties, right? Before he got beefy."

Mercedes glared at her, "No, I was going for more Joe Jonas. Can't you see it? You know, before he cut his hair. Whoever he is, I want a piece of that."

Blaine's face blanched, and his fingers numbly stroked his cheeks as though wondering where they were getting their resemblances from, but Kurt simply turned to the next picture while unconsciously nibbling his bottom lip. The next picture revealed Kurt in much more of a sexual position with Blaine, on his stomach in a partial seal form with his legs crooked at the knees. His chin rested against his fist, and Blaine stood between his legs at the end of the bench with a chain in his hand that he had clamped around Kurt's free wrist. Reluctantly but as though captivated by the sexy pictures, Kurt moved on to the next where he was actually sitting up on the bench, his legs straddling the end and his body clutched against Blaine's. His cheek was cradled against his stomach, one hand wrapped around Blaine's torso while the other grabbed hold of the skin on the inside of his thigh, clearly exhibiting one meaning and one meaning alone. Blaine's foot was balanced on the bench behind Kurt's back, his leg drawn over Kurt's, while his hands clutched the tops of Kurt's ass and his eyes gazed down at the crown of Kurt's head in clear consideration, judging and examination.

The other two pictures consisted of practically the same overview as the first three, and Kurt's skin chilled cold at how convincing the pictures appeared and how sexually active and charged the looks on their faces appeared. Neither of them looked anything like how they usually did—and the girls were still playing guessing games over who the _other model_ looked like and could have been, because they were right. Blaine hardly looked like… Blaine—not under the makeup. He guessed that could have been a good thing for Blaine, who in more than one of the pictures nearly had his lips in a lock with Kurt—just barely missing the full _kiss_ status as though the pictures were to tease, not to completely enjoy, and Blaine knew it.

Kurt jumped slightly as a finger brushed his arm, and he glimpsed over at Shane, whose face expressed nothing but concern, "Hey… are you okay? You look pale. Do you need some water?"

"No," Kurt admitted softly, pretending to fan his face, "I'm fine. It's just a little stuffy in here."

Shane immediately scooted back his chair, alarming Kurt into stiffening his spine like board, "We could go outside for a minute. Dad, Kurt's overwhelmed by the humidity in here. I'll take him out—"

"No, I'm fine," Kurt blurted, his fingernails digging into the underneath of the table, "Honestly. There's no reason to burden you, Shane. Besides, Pavarotti doesn't the cool weather. He prefers things to be lukewarm."

Furrowing his brows, Shane glimpsed at the silently resting bird tucked against Kurt's neck and he slapped a palm over his mouth, "That's a _real_ bird? I thought it was an accessory! Oh, my gosh, my dad's really allergic to birds! I don't think that bird should be in here—!"

"Nonsense, Shane," Alec waved him off, "I feel fine. There will be no taking anyone outside—including Kurt's _lovely_ bird. So, Kurt, tell us what your next project in mind is. You'll be returning to your rightful place at Vogue soon, won't you?"

Stroking his fingers over Pavarotti's back when the bird twittered and fluffed at Shane's spastic reaction to him, Kurt tore himself into five places at once and shot Alec a pretty enough smile that he hoped didn't look like a case of the cramps, "I, um… I won't be going home soon enough but I promised my aunt I'd spend a year in Ohio with my dad and I've enjoyed it here. Being in my hometown has been the peace of mind I've been looking for all along. And I've made some wonderful friends. I haven't yet introduced you to Rachel Berry, Tina Cohen-Chang and Mercedes Jones, have I? And… this is Blaine, my newest roommate and best friend."

"Ah, yes," Alec smirked at Blaine, holding his hand out for Blaine, "I heard that you'd taken in a homeless boy, Kurt." He stared directly at Blaine, whose face expressed absolutely no emotion except a pair of slightly widened eyes, firm lips and paled out cheeks, "I'm very sorry about your situation, son. If you need money, we could always use you as the help, Shane and I. Do you want my card? Contact me at any time—"

Blaine jerked his hand back faster than Kurt's insides could have shriveled up cold at what a failure this night was turning out to be, "I'm not the help. I came from a very rich family—the Anderson's. I moved in with Kurt because I wanted to, not because I had to. You can keep your card and I'll keep my dignity because I've never been homeless."

"What a fireball you are," Alec laughed to himself, "You have your father's personality—blunt and coarse. You're nothing like your brother, are you?"

Shane leaned forward in his seat, "I've heard that you set off firecrackers in your living room and after beating you your father disowned you," he snorted frivolously, "Maybe Kurt here could shape you up to a model citizen. You know, now that I'm looking at you if you grew about five inches and cut your mane of hair you'd look a lot like Cooper. It must be hard knowing that your brother's been in the top one hundred sexiest men alive. Is that why you chose such a rugged look? To rebel because you know you'll never be as handsome so you decided to lie down and take it? You actually do look a little homeless—if you grew a beard out, you know. Easily mistaken for a homeless man. Are you sure you're not in denial? Because I know plenty of therapists who could help you out of this state—"

Blaine bit down on the inside of his cheek, instantly tasting blood and he mindlessly dug his fingers into his palms to avoid slamming his shaking fists down on the table, and he opened his mouth to reply when Pavarotti must have noticed him from across the table and hopped from Kurt's shoulder. He twittered and flapped at Blaine, scurrying across the table cloth and skidding to a halt in front of Blaine. Shane erupted with a bubbling laugh, "It must have been your animalistic side that drew him in, Fraine—"

Rachel suddenly smacked her hands against the table, "His name is Blaine!" She reached for her wrap around jacket slung over her chair, "Kurt, I'm really sorry but I can't sit here with these ninnies for one more second!"

Tina pushed back her chair moments later, shaking her head, "Neither can I. Mr. Hastings and Mr. Hastings Jr., what you're saying is really rude."

Mercedes followed suit, her eyes narrowed frostily, "It's hard to believe that I wasted a single hour of my time on you two. Blaine's cool and if you can't see that, then we're out of here. Kurt, we'll be waiting in the limo. Have dinner with these two _just to keep the media happy_ but I can't take it anymore. We'll eat at the café."

Kurt parted his lips, desperately wracking his brain for a reply while blinking soured tears out of his eyes, but he was helpless to do or say much other than to watch his friends stride out of the room just as the waiter entered, and Mercedes nearly knocked him and the two hundred dollar glasses of wine into a wall without a single apology. He scampered past them and blinked at the pained faces at the table, then to the governor who shrugged their exits off, "Take away three of the glasses, but the rest of us will be served."

Unique settled back in his chair quietly, unable to even so much as look between Kurt and Blaine, the latter remaining just because he refused to leave Kurt and abiding his time by softly stroking a twittering Pavarotti and murmuring sweet endearments to the un-judging bird. Glancing down at his hands in his lap, Kurt mashed his lips together at the sight of both of his promise rings—promises made to Blaine. He stroked his thumb over the familiar and loving rings which fit around his finger like the perfect kiss, then lifted his eyes to Blaine's chalky face, his eyes dark and as watery as Kurt's, as though Blaine himself were on the brink of breaking down.

Biting down on his lip guiltily, Kurt jerked alive when a phone suddenly plopped into his lap and Shane nudged him, "So, Kurt… Can you type your number in there? I'll keep you updated about the movie and hopefully you give me a _yes._ You were my first choice of co-star."

Kurt eyed the phone in his lap as blankly as a rag doll, his bones wearied and heavy. The screen saver on the lit up screen showed off a picture of a shirtless Shane leaning against a fence, two of his fingers at his lips as though smoking an invisible cigarette and the other hand forming a peace sign. _Counterproductive and tacky,_ Kurt thought with a moment of feigned amusement, _why did I ever expect anything more of you?_

The waiter abruptly bent over Kurt to set down his wine glass and salad, and at the sight of the almonds sprinkled atop the salad Pavarotti chirped and popped back onto the table, waddling over to Kurt and wriggling excitedly. Suddenly, Shane bowed over his hands beside him and sneezed noisily, reaching for his cloth napkin and blowing into it. "Oh, I knew that pest was bad news. Kurt, promise me if we ever do that movie together you won't bring that _thing_ along. Even _my_ allergies are acting up, and I didn't know that I had allergies!"

Pavarotti, who had been trained to know the difference between a compliment and an insult, puffed out his chest at Shane and chirped aggressively, his beak parting threateningly at him. Shane leaned away from Pavarotti, "Kurt, your bird's gone insane! It should be locked up in a cage, not out in the open! It's not a purse dog, it's a bird."

Kurt collected the tiny bird in his palms in hopes of soothing him, and Pavarotti, who had no wishes of harming Kurt, stroked his feathers back into place and twittered up at Kurt as though to ask why he couldn't nip the fingers off of Shane. He almost wanted to tell his bird that he could. Glimpsing back up at Shane and Alec, both of them laughing hysterically at some muted joke to Kurt and Blaine's ears, Kurt swiveled around to Unique. Unique ignored him and stabbed at his salad, well aware of Kurt and Blaine's tension but wishing to do no harm to Kurt's future in the media.

Well, suddenly, Kurt didn't give a single damn.

Tears sprang to his eyes as Pavarotti tilted his head completely back to eyeball Kurt into doing something to his defense, so mindlessly Kurt jerked away from the table and jabbed his finger at a stunned Shane, "Not a single bone in my body wants to put my number into your phone. Not in a million years would I _ever_ want to do a movie with you. You're rude and you've insulted both the greatest loves in my life. Say w-what you want in the media about me but I refuse to take this for any longer. And, you know, Blaine might not have his biological family or a magazine dedicated only to him but he does have one thing you'll never have. Me. You'll _never _have me. And you'll wind up alone or in an unloving marriage if you keep your attitude the way it is."

Shane leaned back in his chair and snorted, "Okay, fine. Why don't you try spluttering your way through one more insult? So the rumors were totally correct—you _are_ a prude. I figured that with my looks any tramp as beautiful as you would go weak kneed at my presence. But if you want to screw around with a brute like him that's fine—"

"I wasn't looking for your approval," Kurt shook his head, "I'm sorry that you're in this situation. Maybe one day you'll change your ways and find the happiness that I have with Blaine with someone meant for you."

"So you're rejecting me," Shane stated flatly, and his mouth fell open at Kurt's nod, "Well, hell… this is a first for me. It's not like I wanted a transvestite, anyway. I might be bi but I could never proudly kiss a transvestite."

Kurt fingered the skirt material of his dress, ignoring when Blaine protectively scooted back his chair in a readied position to defend Kurt, "I'm not a transvestite just because I enjoy wearing dresses, just like girls aren't transvestites for wearing men's sweatshirts. But… if that's how you see me… it's a good thing you won't have to kiss a transvestite, then, because I've never wanted to kiss someone so rude as you. I think we're done here."

Turning away to collect his glove and pop his fingers into it, Kurt perched Pavarotti on his shoulder and felt the bird vibrating in a growling form against his neck as he bird teetered around to face Shane. He gasped when a hand clamped down on his wrist, jerking him back around and pulling him against Shane's wiry, boyish body, but Blaine simultaneously lunged around the table and ripped Kurt back against his chest, his powerful heart thundering. "_Never_ again," Blaine snarled, whipping around and placing his hand at Kurt's waist. Without bothering to check on Unique's progress in falling into step behind them, Blaine stormed over to the door with Kurt pacing himself to keep up in his slightly tight, silver flats that dug ruts into his moisturized feet. One of his shoes slipped off his foot as he pranced after Blaine, and he gave up fiddling with his glove and simply allowed that to fall to the floor, as well.

"_Blaine,_" Kurt finally gasped when Blaine reached the main doors, ignoring the pleas of the manager who questioned them on what went wrong, "Blaine, slow down! I can't run outside—my shoe fell off and—!"

Without a single word Blaine swept Kurt up into his arms bridal style, slamming through the doors and not bothering to listen to Unique shouting out after them about how indecent Kurt looked. Suddenly, a flash of light blinded Kurt and he tilted his head in the direction of the paparazzi, which had crouched down in their vans waiting for the kill.

And they sure got what they were looking for.

Stirred alive by the first flash, another flash illuminated Blaine's dark skin against Kurt's paled out form, then another followed swiftly by another. "Kurt!" one of the media men shouted at him, "Who's your sweetheart?"

Kurt helplessly hid his face in Blaine's chest, muffling out the sound of _everything_ as tears leaked persistently from his eyes. Not only would Shane and Alec soon be labeling him as a bitchy prude, but he was leaving a restaurant in the arms of a mystery man with half of his wardrobe malfunctioning. Maybe he'd be called the confused prude? The one who rejected all men except one. He'd surely be fired from Vogue after this outburst, and he'd never get into another modeling business if he were known as the insatiable prig. His life would be over, and obviously no Broadway show would take him on if they thought him to be demanding or incapable of stripping himself down in front of his costume designers. He was becoming what they all thought him to be and what he'd always denied—a total prude.

And, at the moment, getting into a limo with his friends cooing over him and asking him what happened didn't seem as bad as it might. All he wanted at that moment was his friends to wrap him in their arms and give him a place to lay his head and cry. But, if he was being completely honest with himself, all he wanted to do was curl up in Blaine's arms and fall asleep to the sound of Blaine's soft singing in his ear, Blaine's hand stroking his back and hair and the shell of his ear—one of the many places that surprisingly hit a sweet spot in him and lulled him into a calm void that only Blaine seemed able to bring him to.

_Well,_ Kurt thought to himself, finding a quiet place inside of his mind to curl up in, _get used to this. There's no turning back now. And once you go back to France, Blaine's arms won't be there to protect you. And you'll have only you and your silly dreams to blame._

* * *

Kurt dug his fingers into Blaine's wiry chest hair, cradling his flushed cheek against Blaine's sweat dampened chest. Blaine, who Kurt thought had fallen asleep a good ten minutes ago, replied with a soft sound of acknowledgment and stroked a single finger down Kurt's spine, drawing prickly goose bumps to Kurt's skin. Snuggling deeper into Blaine's chest, Kurt closed his eyes when Blaine tilted his head just the right way and pressed his lips to the crown of Kurt's head then rested his cheek against the same spot, "How are you feeling?" he whispered in Kurt's ear, "Are you okay, baby?"

Nodding his head lightly, Kurt burrowed as deeply as he could into Blaine until not a single space of air snuck between their sealed bodies, "I'm better," he stroked a finger over Blaine's reddened, enflamed nipple, refreshing the point at the tip of it, "Blaine… you have no idea how sorry I am—"

"Please, don't apologize," Blaine blurted before Kurt could finish, and Kurt tilted his head up to meet Blaine's golden gaze, "Sweetheart… you take the blame for so many things that aren't your fault. I knew that kid was an ass from the second I first laid my eyes on him. I should have done a better job protecting you, even though I _am_ impressed with you. I didn't know you had it in you to defend yourself like that."

Kurt smiled warmly into Blaine's chest, for the first time genuinely since before they even arrived at the restaurant, "I wasn't just defending myself, Blaine. I was defending the two greatest loves of my life. No one will ever get away with insulting my baby, and certainly no one will ever get away with insulting you." Kurt lifted himself slightly up to receive yet another kiss from Blaine, the two of them radiating in the simple brush of their lips. "I'm not so fragile as you would think, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine's chest rumbled with a low chuckle, and he pressed his lips to Kurt's forehead, "I never thought you were. You always were fiery. I don't ever want you to lose that, Kurt. Your fire and passion are two of the many things I love about you."

Kurt giggled, rubbing the tip of his nose against Blaine's, "Tell me a few more?"

Before Blaine got around to replying Kurt's stomach tightened on itself and a moan gurgled up from it, causing Kurt to instantly brighten to the shade of strawberries and bury his face in Blaine's chest again. Blaine helplessly burst into laughter, his arms lassoing around Kurt as the bed shook from his enjoyment over Kurt's bodily functions, "Well… for starts, I _love_ the noises your stomach makes when you're hungry. Don't be so embarrassed, I think it's adorable. Even though we're both hungry for two completely different things, you need to eat before we can… get to my hungers. Hand me the phone, baby? I'll call room service. What do you want? I think I'm in the mood for soup."

"Wait," Kurt finally lifted his head, and he bit down on his lip as Blaine threw him a questioning expression, "Do you mind if I… go down to the café? I wouldn't mind walking around right now. I think I just need to stretch out for a few minutes. Besides, I'd really like to see when I can schedule a spa day for the girls and I. Rachel's been begging me to take her for a trip to the spa."

Blaine's confused expression didn't waver, but he immediately relented, "Okay, babe. Do you want me to come with you? People… might be talking and I don't want you exposed to that, honey."

Kurt twitched a shoulder, "I'm going to have to get used to it, Blaine. It'll be there whether I try to avoid it or not. You can stay here if you like. I'll be less than five minutes. If I go over, I give you permission to come hunt me down. I just want some air."

Nodding his head unsurely, Blaine clasped Kurt's cheeks in his hands and locked his lips with Kurt's, releasing a sigh of ecstasy when Kurt parted under his firm lips and their tongues tangled together. Blaine flicked the tip of his tongue over Kurt's, then parted from him with a _pop_ that reminded both of them of the happenings over the past two hours. With a pinch to Kurt's right ass cheek, Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's forehead and reluctantly watched his lover climb off of him. Kurt knelt by his tossed spankies and slipped them back on over his thighs, then scampered over to the closet where he pulled on a white turtle neck to hide his hickeys, a white pair of stockings and a layered, white miniskirt. He slipped into his knee high, white heels with the three inch heels on them, and finally yanked a nearly translucent cloak that parted down the middle except for at the collar over his entire outfit.

Kurt whirled around to Blaine, "I'll be back in a minute. I'll bring you the _tomato soupe en croute_, because I know how much you liked it when I made it at home." Slipping his fingers through Blaine's only for a second, Kurt lifted Blaine's heavy hand to his face and kissed each knuckle, "Is that okay?"

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand with his own, "All I need is you so bring me whatever. I only want to feast on you."

Giggling, Kurt set Blaine's hand back down then spun around toward the door. "I'll miss you," he called out, then smiled to himself when the reply was instantly returned.

Kurt quietly slipped out the door spilling out into the hallway, his mind a million places at once. He wasn't sure what exactly he was attempting by leaving the hotel room without Blaine at his heels. Maybe he just wanted a chance to see the looks on people's faces and hear the words whispered behind his back by himself before Blaine protectively covered his ears and eyes to his best ability. Maybe he just wanted the truth for once, not the edited version of anything. He wanted to know what people said about him without Blaine being there to block it all out.

He appreciated Blaine for attempting to help him get past the rude sneers, but he was right, he needed to train himself to get used to the hateful comments. It was the only way he'd survive France, especially since the photo shoot was already a done deal. He was officially a celebrity, and that meant being stripped bare and naked for the public to lash out at him and scar him and wound him. He only wished he'd prepared himself a little better for this.

Flipping the hood of his silky cloak over his hair to keep his identity sealed to hide him from the direct line of fire and just listen in case people were speaking about him without him even being present, Kurt paced over to an elevator and stepped inside, relieved for its vacancy. Maybe he was making a mistake by going into this alone. After all, he and Blaine had never gone into the public alone. They went _everywhere_ together, and perhaps Kurt wasn't ready for this. Convincing himself of that, Kurt lunged for the elevator doors in favor of running back to the room and leaping into Blaine's protective arms, when they shut right in his face, as though to mock him for making such a mistake. There was no turning back now.

He gripped down on the bars behind him and clenched his jaw, tears pinching the backs of his eyes again. "I'm not ready," he scolded himself for making such a mistake, wiping his eyes with his sleeve then mentally yelling at himself again for ruining his cashmere with salty tears.

Suddenly the elevator jerked and a bell dinged above him, followed by the doors drifting apart and revealing the busied lobby. He thought about pushing his floor number when no one was looking, but just when he was about to a young woman stepped on and Kurt was cornered to either reveal that he had the wrong floor, enjoyed playing on elevators all day or was truly just an insecure, young celebrity not quite ready to face his public.

"Hey," the woman murmured at him, and Kurt closed his eyes with a wince that she had recognized him. By her kind tone she probably hadn't heard about today's mishap, but he also wasn't in the mood for autograph signing anything. He flicked his eyes to her gentle face, beginning to step out of the elevator just as she pointed to his boots. "I just bought a pair like that a week ago. The line that Kurt Hummel and Unique put out? They look really stylish on you."

Kurt pressed his lips together, wondering if she realized she was speaking to the person who had designed those boots just for himself then discovered that Unique liked them enough to mass produce them. Keeping his face turned away and hiding in the crevices of his hood, Kurt murmured out a soft appreciation then whirled around, desperate to conceal his identity from anyone—even those who seemed to want to side with him in his darkest hour of media time yet, besides when he ran out of his last photo shoot.

Striding through the lobby and holding his head down, Kurt switched from conversation to conversation, fraught to hear any new word of his social status. As far as he could tell, the media hadn't yet hit his hotel because things seemed calm and in order, and for that he was momentarily appeased. His eyes discovered the fully lit café wedged between the check-in desk and the hallway leading down to the pool and gym, and he was about to wedge through the door when a child darted out first and cried out over his shoulder something about a parade. A frantically multitasking mother carrying a baby in one arm and searching her purse for a camera with the other attempted to shush her child, so in a moment of politeness Kurt reached out to steady the purse about to collapse to the floor and scatter its containments all over the floor.

The woman breathed in relief and shot him a thankful look, only to slightly widen her eyes, "Oh, you're—"

Kurt immediately withdrew from her, assuring that his hood was hiding his face as well as it could and he touched his fingers to his lips, "Please, don't tell anyone. _Je vous en prie._"

While the woman nodded her head and reached down to grasp her son's hand, her son blinked up at Kurt, "You're really pretty. Why is your hair so short?"

"_Nathan,_" the woman censored, kneeling down to whisper something about Kurt being a boy to her son, then glanced up at Kurt, "I'm so sorry. Of course I won't tell anyone. Will you be in the parade tonight?"

Kurt blinked at her, anxious to get what he needed from the café then run back upstairs but not wishing to be rude, "Parade? _Pas,_ I haven't been asked to be in a parade. My manager would have told me. Will there be a parade soon?"

"Oh, yes," the woman smiled, "it'll be starting in five minutes. You should come see it. The main streets are all filled up with people and it seems like you're trying to keep the paparazzi down but if you go down Broadway there's a little street that's hardly paved over. You can go there. The parade will be passing by it to get onto Ninth Street. I have to go meet my husband or else he'll worry but it was a pleasure meeting you. You're quite the inspiration. I hope you keep modeling by the time my kids are your age. I'd love for them to grow up with such a good role model."

Kurt smiled at her, holding his hand out for her to shake, "The pleasure was mine. Thank you for the directions and for keeping my identity down. Maybe I'll see you at the parade."

"It'd be an honor," she murmured, then nodded once more and spun around with her child toddling after her.

Biting down on his lip, Kurt followed her with his eyes out the revolving, glass doors and discovered that, indeed, the sidewalks were in fact crowded with people of all ages, but mostly children. What he would have paid to have been one of them, just another face there for the amusement, not afraid of being chased down by a paparazzi or hiding in the shadows to watch while others squealed and screamed under the street lights without a care. Part of him wanted that back, especially now.

He recalled his first and last parade when he was three years old with his dad and mom, and of sitting on his dad's shoulders because his parents feared he was small enough to be trampled and not quite tall enough to see the parade. He remembered the smells of cotton candy and popcorn, and the laughter of the other children around him. He also remembered that he might have gone with a friend of his from when he was a child, but he couldn't quite make out a face in his memory so he figured it must have just been the other children playing around at the parade that had enveloped him with such love he felt as though all of them were his friends at that time.

Glancing over his shoulder at the elevator, Kurt wondered if he should just creep into the café, retrieve the necessities and head back up to the room. Who knew, maybe Blaine might want to see the parade with him, and with Blaine he would feel safer. But as if Blaine would ever remotely want to see a family-fun event like a parade, let alone Kurt go to one in New York where paparazzi would be swarming to take pictures of the parade for the magazines. He wondered if the girls were going to watch the parade, as they had slipped out a while earlier promising to be back by eleven.

He hugged the walls considering his chances and how much he missed feeling human just for a moment, not held in another world just because his face had been on the cover of a few magazines and on the stage of a Broadway musical when he was only fourteen years old. He missed biting down into the soft pillow of cotton candy at events like that without worrying about how many carbs the treat contained and what he would have to do later to work off the extra pound. He even missed the sound of sidewalk under his feet as he held his father's hand on the way to the perfect seating arrangement for the parade, and zipping past people and catching bits and pieces of different conversations and mentally giggling over the silly wordings that played over and over in his head.

He glimpsed back over his shoulder at the elevator, nibbling his bottom lip in consideration then figured that with his head down and his hood up, who would possibly recognize him? He'd find a safe spot to stand, watch a minute of the parade just for that feeling of home again, then run back to Blaine before he even realized he was gone. Without another hesitation, Kurt scurried across the lobby floor and pushed through the revolving doors, bursting into a fierce wall of noise, laughter and giddiness by the people gathered around.

It was the taste of freedom that Kurt had always longed for.

Sinking into the gathering of people inaudibly, Kurt bit down on his lip and skirted through the people, aware of the men's heads each turning as he passed. He went too quickly for anyone to get a good look at him, so he wasn't sure why exactly with every step he took yet another man zeroed in on him—even the married ones—but he ignored them and followed the packed Broadway street down to the corner the girl had mentioned. Flakes of snow tumbled into his hair and flirted with his flowing cloak, nearly threatening to brush his hood down.

The screaming and shouting of the people at something other than him in begging for autographs and pictures filled him with a sense of accomplishment, that for once he wasn't the focus of their attention. As he neared the end of Broadway Street the street lights started flickering out, the people emptying out in buckets into the main area, and he thought for a brief second he'd made it to a quiet, tucked away area when a flash of light popped into his vision, and suddenly a swarm of paparazzi emerged from the other side of the street, scurrying across before the parade mauled them over.

_Oh, no. My mistake's starting to catch up._

"Kurt!" one of them shouted at him, "Give us a smile, sweetheart! Can you give us the name of your mystery boyfriend? Where's he at?"

Kurt backed away from the flashing cameras, only to bump into a wall, and he swiftly turned his head back to Broadway Street where one by one people were starting to nudge each other and whisper his name, and slowly each of them drew a camera out of their pockets or purses. Instantaneously flashes from every direction blurred his vision and the tears sprang back into his eyes, and one of the paparazzi cooed to him, "Oh, a modest model. That's adorable. Jot that down, Harris. So, Kurt, is there a name to your boyfriend? Come on, look your pretty face this way. Work with me, beautiful."

Trapped against a wall, Kurt felt a hand brush his arm and jerked away from it, "Can you sign my cheek? My friend's will be so jealous if you do."

"Gorgeous, over here!" another man shouted, and that was the second that Kurt snapped.

Tears burst from his eyes and he launched himself away from all of it, pushing past the paparazzi and racing away from his hotel, his place for safety, the one place with Blaine in it and he hated himself for being so curious. He hated himself for thinking this would be okay. He hated the paparazzi and the media and for once, he hated all of his fans. Couldn't he just be human for one night? _Perfect,_ he thought simply, _now not only will I be the prude hosting an affair, I'll be the cry baby who doesn't like his fans._

Blinded by his tears and the lights still buzzing around in his head, Kurt tore into one direction and hoped he got going the right way. He wiped his tears desperately and didn't slow down until the noise of the paparazzi faded away to silence, and the only sound ringing around in his head was that of a distant tambourine clashing in the air, numbing out the beauty and quiet of the falling snow around him. His cheeks burned from the air slashing against them and cooling his tears on them, and his heart ached that he'd picked this life for himself, all the while knowing that celebrities never received any privacy. And his body throbbed to be back in Blaine's arms, the one person in the world who had never considered him a celebrity or as anything other than Blaine's equal.

Finally he came to a complete stop once he was sure he wasn't being followed, and at last he opened his eyes and gasped when he did. He found himself standing in the center of an alley, darkness his only friend other than a garbage bin residing and rotting at the end of the alley, where a chain link fence stood what seemed like fifty feet high. Suddenly the inside of the bin clashed and banged, startling Kurt into drawing a step back, when a mangy, scrawny dog fuming with fleas and an odor that tinged Kurt's nose even from a distance poked out of the bin and eyed Kurt. Finally, the dog clamped down on a moldy piece of tossed out chicken and jumped out of the bin, then wriggled under a tiny hole dug into the fence.

"Where am I?" Kurt whispered to no one in particular, leaning against the brick wall beside him, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Behind him a busted street light flickered, and a light breeze rattled the chain fence, and the noise from the parade started dying down, proving that wherever he was the parade had recently passed by and the people were following it. The paparazzi, who he suddenly wished were there to annoy him, seemed less than concerned with his whereabouts and if the famous Kurt Hummel turned up dead by morning due to their own fault of chasing him out.

The idea of being harassed and murdered in just a few hours sprung tears to his eyes, and he punched himself in the leg for being so _naïve._ He thought about following the way he had come back to Broadway Street, but seeing as he'd been blind for half the trip that didn't turn out to be an option. Pacing back out of the alley way, Kurt glanced around for any signs of people but found none on the seemingly abandoned street and he called out softly, "Hello? Is anyone around? I… got lost and I'd give a reward to anyone who helps me back."

The only reply he received was one from a breeze whistling in his ear, and he started to step forward when his stick heel caught on a hole in the gravelly walkway and he stumbled to the ground. Crying out when his heel twisted, Kurt reached down for his raw wound and carefully touched his palm to it, only to shriek again at the amount of shrill pain traveling up and down his leg. In a swift move he jerked his heel out of the ground and tears blasted from his eyes at the sharp movement, and he carefully peeled off his circulation pinching heel to examine his wound. A sprained ankle at most, but to his career—if he still had one—it could mean life or death.

Realizing walking on it would only make it worse, Kurt turned his head to the sky and cried out anxiously, "Please, help me! Someone, please!"

Once again, the soft purr of crickets was his only answer, and Kurt feared he'd ran himself straight to another desolate planet. He peeled off his other shoe and tossed the wretched thing aside, for dread that he'd never be able to look at this outfit again without wincing. If he ever took this outfit off and wore another. It was safe to say he'd never take for granted his closet again, and the idea of always walking somewhere on the buddy system.

Abruptly, a twig snapped in the distance and Kurt whipped his head around to find a lone figure—more or less in the shape of a brawny man—standing in the doorway of a worn down apartment building. Kurt lifted himself up into a sitting position, wary to not move his leg, and he raised his hand anxiously, "Please! Help me! I sprained my ankle and can't move it!"

The man cocked his head at Kurt, then he swung back around and pushed open the apartment door again, and Kurt raised his voice to a scream, "No, don't go back inside! I need help! Please! You don't have to walk me anywhere; there's a man you can call! He'll come to get me! Please, don't turn me away!"

Ignoring Kurt, the man disappeared back inside and Kurt's eyes welled up with fresh tears, his knuckles pressing into his lips to hold down a sob. Anxious to not sit and rot there, Kurt pushed himself up onto his elbows and winced when the flimsy fabric of his cashmere turtle neck tore and the gravel dug bloody spots into his elbows, and with a bold move of desperate-saving-himself need, he worked himself up onto his hands and knees. Lifting his good leg and planting it firmly on the ground, Kurt slowly set his other foot down and muffled a scream of pain by biting into his tongue so hard he drew blood. Shots of fire burst from his ankle, as though a burning nail were being jabbed into his skin over and over.

He worked his way up into rising onto his feet, only to tumble over at the lack of balance he had in his right foot on rocky ground. The left side of his face smacked into the gravel, slicing it open and he busted his lip, the tangy taste of metal overriding the taste of his tears, but that was nothing compared to when his left leg hit the ground and his ankle twisted further at the straightening out in his leg, and a scream burst from his lips only to have his voice silenced when a hand snatched his shoulder and lifted him into a sitting position. Despite the roughness, Kurt gushed out tears of relief and he managed to blurt when the pain in his leg had cooled back down to a dull roar, "_Merci!_ I was so worried you'd gone back inside for good! Do you happen to have a phone? I just need to call my boyfriend and—"

Suddenly, a hand slapping across his face silenced him and Kurt gasped, touching his hand to his already bruising cheek. "I thought your screaming and hollering would never shut up," the man above him spat, "It's a good thing you're so pretty."

Cat calls behind the man proved that his three friends agreed, and Kurt widened his eyes slightly at the four thugs surrounding him, their faces tattooed and pierced, cigars hanging from two of their mouths, and the one clutching painfully down on his shoulder stroking his jaw playfully. "You're a good girl, aren't you, pet?" he purred at Kurt, startling Kurt.

"I'm not a girl, I'm a—" he cut off when the man abruptly ripped off his hood, revealing his hair—or lack of it.

"Shit!" the man stumbled back, "It's a fucking transvestite! It's a boy! I don't fuck boys and you three face bangers know it."

One of the men standing behind him pranced forward, and he licked his lips at the sight of Kurt, "Who cares? With a face like that can we really give a damn? Boy or girl this one is more beautiful than any we've ever had. He's high class, too. Don't look so scared, beautiful."

Kurt blinked up at them, curling his knuckles into his chest and assuring that his cloak was closed in the front, "Are you going to hurt me?" At their silence Kurt breathed out and turned his face away, in an oddly tranquil position despite the group of thugs circling him. It was like being in the eye of a tornado, surrounded by a death waiting to happen but in those few seconds of utter silence that really gave a person time to think back about his life before being spat into the shredding winds around him and torn to pieces. Looking back up at them, Kurt determined that with their meaty forms they couldn't run quite as fast as him, but seeing as he couldn't run at all he gave up any hope of escaping them. The best chance he had was to knock all of them out, but Kurt had never once visited a gym before and glancing down at his thin, womanly arms he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.

What happened in the next ten minutes of his life would determine the way he'd continue to live for years on end. If he managed to return to society he might be able to keep this from the media, but Blaine would know. Blaine knew his body inside out, even places he hadn't seen before or knew about, and he would know that Kurt had been tainted by rape. If Kurt got off lucky, Blaine would be strong enough to see past his used shell and remember the boy he fell in love with and would continue to love, but their relationship would never be the same, no matter how much Kurt wished it could be. Every time they made love Blaine would only think of the fact that Kurt was a victim to another man's hand. And at the worst case… he'd lose Blaine.

He wasn't so sure that dying here and now and not having to face the rejection and loathing and agony on Blaine's face was the worst option of the two.

Unique had always warned him that his beauty could be used as a curse, that no one got away with being so beautiful as him without consequences standing just around the corner. And he was just now starting to understand that. Of all the times he'd seen an advertisement for donating money to rape victims and spied the sorrowful expressions upon their faces, he'd never imagined himself to be one of them, one of those many faces with the dreary profiles and contorted bodies from the sexual abuse. They probably all had boyfriends, girlfriends, friends before their rape assaults, and one by one it all went away, leaving them with nothing more than a pair of disappointed parents who wanted nothing to do with supporting the likes of a rape victim child, what with all the condescending sneers, all of the good-doer charities who simply pitied the child, all of the therapy bills. And Kurt was sure that if he was questioning Blaine's loyalty to him in his darkest time of life, Rachel, Mercedes and Tina would surely abandon him. After all, who wanted to deal with the whacked out emotions, the panic attacks, the constant tears of a rape victim?

_Well,_ he thought quietly, forcing himself to stay strong as one of the men brushed his thumb thoughtfully over his cheek, as though testing which part of him to taste first, _after today, no one in the world can ever call me a prude again._ But now after that label dissolved after people figured out he was nothing more than a soiled prude, he would be known as the _rape victim._

He was really starting to hate labels.

* * *

Rachel burst through the doors of the hotel frantically, paying no mind to the judging eyes falling upon her at her dramatic entrance. A woman in a blazer scoffed at Rachel's frenzied form and stuck her nose to the sky as she passed Rachel by, but Rachel ignored her and wiped her teary eyes in order to catch a good look at the lobby. Half afraid that the leisurely ride up the elevator then the run to Blaine's room and the two minutes it would probably take to pound on the door and Blaine to slip on his shoes would be precious time away from rescuing Kurt and by the time they got there it'd be too late, Rachel strode toward the middle of the room wondering if she shouldn't just scream that there was a boy in an alley being raped. Maybe she'd made a mistake coming all the way back to the hotel. After all, there had to have been plenty of cops at the parade watching out for drunkards or kids preparing to dart out into the middle of the cheerful parade that hardly matched the mood of the night in any way.

At first she'd thought the commotion at the end of Broadway while she stood on the other side of the street with Mercedes and Tina had been a pre-show comedy, until she'd noticed the franticness in the paparazzi victim's gazelle-like lunging toward the safety a hollowed street lacking anything in people offered him… and that was about the time she'd heard one of the cameramen shout Kurt Hummel's name. Without bothering to warn Mercedes and Tina Rachel had darted after Kurt, but the parade had passed by the very second she headed after him, blocking her pathway for what felt like endless hours. And by the time she'd hunted every alleyway and followed the sound of high pitched screaming to a group of thugs kneeling over a distraught figure kicking and thrashing to escape their groping hands, Rachel realized she couldn't take on four thugs alone.

Lost in her thoughts and devising ways to save Kurt, Rachel bit down a scream when what felt like a brick wall slammed into her, a pair of strong hands gripping down on her arms and shaking her so hard the brick wall nearly lifted her off her feet. "Rachel!" a throaty voice shouted at her, and for the first time Rachel noticed the hands were the things shaking, not her, and she popped open her eyes to find herself staring into Blaine's nearly white face, his eyes wild and his breath coming in tiny sips, "Where is he! I know you know so tell me right now! Dammit, it's been twenty minutes and I've searched this entire hotel ten times over! Where is Kurt?"

"Blaine!" Rachel coughed, wriggling out of his grip, "Don't shake me, I can't breathe like that—" Realizing that her concerns were more about herself than Kurt, Blaine instantly tossed her aside and she stumbled to right herself, watching Blaine weakly stagger a foot away from her and press his knuckles deep into his lips, and for the first time she noticed frozen tear streaks on his cheeks, startling her.

Blaine Anderson never cried.

Ignoring his mindless abuse to her, Rachel swiftly gripped down on his wrist and tugged him toward the door, "Blaine, come with me! I know where Kurt is!"

"He went outside?" Blaine blurted as he slammed through the revolving door, nearly chopping off Rachel's arm in the process. "Fuck, don't tell me paparazzi found him. Where the hell is he, Rachel?"

Rachel suddenly stopped walking, jerking Blaine to a halt with her. Blaine shot her a glare over his shoulder, scanning the dissipating crowd for any signs of Kurt—when Blaine really had no clue of what was going on. "Blaine… Please, don't freak out but I saw Kurt with these four thugs and they were hurting him—"

Had Blaine washed out any paler than he turned at that moment, he would have blended in with the snow. Not bothering with the family-friendly surroundings or the children wandering past them, Blaine raised his voice to a near scream, "_You're telling me not to freak out and Kurt is with thugs?_ Rachel, you better tell me where the fuck he's at right now or I will put you through hell—"

"He's that way," Rachel anxiously pointed in that general direction, and before she could get out another word Blaine exploded from her vision, and in seconds he was completely gone.

* * *

Kurt cradled his head against his arm, his brain writhing to free itself from his sore and bruised body. He wasn't sure about how much time had passed or even if any had passed, but he thought he weakly remembered closing his eyes as one of the men had stripped of their shirts, and the other continued to stroke his delicate face in a harsh tone that cut into his soft skin with his calloused finger pads. He was sure that none of them had gotten around to the actual raping yet, as no cold, fishy lips had touched him and his clothes—although torn and tattered from his own doing—had been left untouched by the other men. Curling his knees into his chest meekly, Kurt shriveled his body up when one of the men breathed moist air into his ear, maybe as a punishment for earlier when he'd actually tried to defend himself by screaming and writhing out of their grips.

Realizing that no one was around to help him and with the lack of use of one of his legs Kurt had eventually quieted down, seeing as there wasn't truly a point to panicking. There was no one there to hear him cry. Kurt peeled open his eyes again and eyed the man crouched above him. One of his hands was dunked into his pants as he held his other hand to Kurt's cheek, and he gazed hazily down at Kurt while shuddering in what Kurt assumed was the beginning of a climax. Finally, he drew up the courage to whisper, "Are you going to kill me?"

One of the men on his other side slapped him across the face for a second time, and Kurt cried out lowly at the returned throbbing in his cheek, "Shut up, you little whore! I've had enough of your screaming for the night! Just lay there and I'll see what I do with you after this—"

"You won't do a fucking thing to him after this."

All four of the thugs—even the two standing off to the side who claimed to not fuck boys but wanted a show, anyway—whipped around to the guttural voice cracking through the air like a whip, and Kurt slowly tilted his head around to widen his eyes at the sight of Blaine standing at the end of the alley. Only once had he ever seen an expression quite so brutal on Blaine's face before, his lips drawn back over his teeth and his eyes flaming with a fire so hellish that even Kurt trembled in fear for the thugs whom he loathed. Nothing could stop Blaine when he was like this, a train wreck waiting to happen, and no one ever knew how badly the person he'd victimized would be disfigured. And Karofsky was the only other person Blaine had looked like that to.

Blaine's body trembled as his viper eyes flicked between each of the thugs, and finally he settled them on Kurt who feebly attempted rolling onto his other side to face Blaine. The concrete dug into his skin, however, and moving his ankle even in the slightest sent sharp pains trilling all throughout his left side, so he remained facing away from Blaine. "Blaine," his voice, when trying to maximize the volume of it, came out hoarsely and breathily, and tears leaked from his eyes at the sight of his lover.

Blaine's eyes snapped back up from Kurt to the thugs, and he made a move to step forward when out of nowhere a dark haired girl nearly leapt onto his back, "Blaine!" Rachel's voice flirted into Kurt's ears, and she jerked Blaine's face toward her, "Blaine, I called the police! Don't kill them! The police will be here any minute."

"Oh, look," one of the thugs cackled, "Billy Crystal and Princess here think they can scare us off. We found this bitch, go get your own."

Blaine took another step forward despite Rachel's urgings, and Rachel covered her mouth with her hands as soon as she spotted a powerless Kurt lying helplessly on the ground. Tilting his head slightly to the side, Blaine snarled at them, "Back the fuck away."

At the underlying tone in his voice the thugs surrounding Kurt twitched, but remained planted beside of Kurt while one of the ones leaning against the wall approached Blaine with just as hard of a head. "What are you gonna do about it, Killer? You and what army? I'll cut your head off and use it for my fireplace—"

Almost inhumanly Blaine's hands lifted through the air and he clutched down on both sides of the man's head, then drew one fist back and slugged it right into the guy's temple. A cracking sound tainted the silence of the air, and the man released a high pitched scream as blood dripped from his temple. Blaine pushed the man aside mercilessly and the man bent over his own body, his hand clutching the side of his face. Blaine's jaw clenched as he eyed the other thugs, and rather than run away the three of them rose to their feet and stalked up to Blaine, cracking their knuckles, "You think you're tough shit, don't you?" one of them barked, and Blaine wordlessly cocked his head.

While the thugs spent their attention on Blaine, Rachel sought out her chance and bolted past the group of them cornering a still unthreatened Blaine, and she skidded to a stop by Kurt's whimpering body. She knelt down by him and noticed that at least half of his left side was completely bloody, including the left side of his face, and she carefully slid her arms under Kurt's torso and lifted him into the cradle of her arms. "Kurt," she whispered to him, brushing a fallen lock off his forehead, "Did they do this to you? Did they rape you?"

Kurt managed a light shake of his head, his forehead throbbing with a pounding headache from all of the jostling. Suddenly, he jerked his head up slightly when one of the thugs who had cornered Blaine fell onto his ass not a foot away from Kurt's feet, and both he and Rachel glanced up at Blaine to find him setting his foot back down, his jaw clenched. "They didn't touch me," he whispered as loudly as he could without his voice giving out, "They didn't have the chance. How did you find me?"

Rachel tore a loose piece of cloth off of Kurt's cloak and pressed it into his bloody cheek, "That's not important right now. How do you feel? What hurts? Have you hit your head at all? You're really pale, Kurt. Worse than usual."

Kurt swallowed harshly, but his mouth had dried and the only thing he thought he swallowed might have been the dust from the gravel, "I… I think I did. Once. My ankle hurts—I sprained it. And I feel cold."

Paling out at the idea that Kurt might have a concussion, Rachel lifted her head and hollered over to Blaine, "Blaine… Blaine, he thinks he hit his head. And he can't walk. Kurt, keep your eyes open. We'll get you help. Is your vision fuzzy? Here, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Kurt blinked his eyes up at Rachel's hand when she lifted it, and he whispered, "Two. Rachel… I think I'm fine. I don't feel like I have a concussion."

Rachel waved her fingers in front of his eyes just in case, and she breathed out in relief when his pupils followed them perfectly. Suddenly, Blaine dropped down on Kurt's other side and Kurt held his hand out for Blaine to take in his own. Stunned by his arrival, Rachel flicked her eyes to the moaning bodies of the thugs piled up by the area where they'd cornered him, but before she could comment or ask where he'd gotten the talent to knock out a group of thugs Blaine started scooping Kurt's body from Rachel's arms to his own. Kurt cried out softly when Rachel accidentally jostled his left leg, but Blaine swiftly shushed him and lifted him into the cradle of his arms, "Hold on, sweetheart. I'm right here. Kurt, keep your eyes open, baby. I know it's hard. I'm going to take you to the hospital. You're gonna be fine. Look at me, baby."

Kurt wearily ducked his head into Blaine's chest, his vision fading in and out and sound muffling in his ears. As he passed out in Blaine's arms he managed to whisper one thing, "Please, don't hate me." And that was about the time that everything went dark.

* * *

Kurt had been in a position similar to this before. He remembered the moment clearly, when he was seven and had sprained the same exact ankle he just had after his first day in elementary gym and the teacher had forced him to play kickball with the other children, even though he had clearly explained that not a single bone in his body had an athletic gift to it. The only weights he'd ever lifted in his life were those of heavy shopping bags and sporting them throughout the entire mall. Only when he was seven he'd been taken into a doctor's office, set on some wrinkly paper that crinkled every time he shifted his weight, dressed in more crinkly paper, and the room had been much brighter with a picture of a cartoon doctor patching up the scraped knee of a cartoon, crying child about his age. His father had remained right at his side, holding his hand while the doctor splinted and wrapped his ankle, and at the end of his visit a friendly nurse had patted him on the head and given him a lollipop, then told him to "keep off that leg, sweetie." He hadn't minded the splint at the time, as it gave him a chance to escape gym class—despite the fact that his gym teachers, realizing what a failure he would be in that class, switched him over to art class right after he got back into school.

Today, with his job on the line and his future very uncertain, he couldn't have cared less to have a splinted leg.

Eyeing the thick lump under the blanket where his leg had been splinted, Kurt snuggled down into his hospital bed quietly and wondered if he should ring for a nurse or if someone would be coming for him soon. He only hoped that someone's name started with a _b_, because, oh, did he have so much explaining to do for Blaine. For everyone, actually. Outside his hospital window he heard the chants of some of his fans demanding for the nurse to re-open the curtains so the paparazzi could annoy Kurt further and question him about his career and what was going to happen with it. Luckily, the nurse had taken a hint from Kurt's bruised and battered form that he most certainly did not want the paparazzi's company or pictures being taken of him when he was hooked up to a hospital bed and prongs had been shoved up his nose. From the reflection of the metal frame on his thin, lumpy bed he noticed a swelling bruise on his forehead, and a deep cut slashed into his eyebrow. Just from that fuzzy image of himself, he could tell that he looked terrible—and he needed a long bath. A long, long, soapy bath.

Abruptly a set of footsteps outside his door drew his attention in that general direction, and if he wasn't mistaken he could make out the soft whispering of Rachel's voice, "…you sure? Won't you get bored? I'm sure he's still asleep."

Another darker, more masculine voice faded through the door, "Yeah. Go back to the hotel. If the girls ask… just tell them the truth. It'll be all over the media, anyway. Rachel, I'm gonna be fine."

"'Kay," the girl—Rachel—made a soft sound of agreement, then Kurt heard the sound of clothing rustling and she whispered again, "'Night, Blaine. Sleep good."

"Yeah," Blaine muttered, and the door handle started shifting around, "You, too. I'll call you in the morning. Oh, and, Rachel? If you could, keep Unique away. I don't want Kurt dealing with work stuff or being stressed out tonight. 'Night, Rachel."

Kurt attempted scooting slightly up in his bed, but lifting his head only brought back his throbbing headache so he plopped back down on the pillows. After the sound of Rachel's soft footsteps faded away, the door quietly slid open and Blaine wedged himself inside, hoping to keep the blinding light from the fluorescent lighting outside from creeping onto Kurt. He clicked the door shut behind him and his eyes flicked to Kurt when he spun around, and he blinked at Kurt in surprise, "Baby… I didn't think you'd be up. Hey, sweetheart… they have some good news for you. You don't have a concussion but you're pretty bruised up and your leg was sprained. They think they should have you out of here by tomorrow afternoon, at least."

Licking his lips, Kurt watched as Blaine dragged a vacant chair over to the side of Kurt's bed and straddled it, reaching across the bed for Kurt's hand to twiddle with his fingers, "What about the video shoot? I can't perform like this."

Blaine sighed and stroked his thumb over Kurt's thigh, "Stanley is leaving that up to you. He said the photo shoot went so well and since these injuries weren't your fault he'll give you time to heal up and then you can decide if you still want to do it. We'd have to stay here a day or two longer than planned, though. Honey, I called your dad, too, and he sounded worried. Baby, I hate to say this but I think it'd just be best if we went home. The media's going insane right now and you were seriously injured because they chased you into that alley—you could have been _killed__, _Kurt. Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?" Blaine released another heavy breath of air, his eyes growing damp with fresh tears but he wiped them away with his palm, "I just… I don't even know what to think right now. I can't ever lose you. You _are_ my angel. I love you so much."

Kurt gently squeezed Blaine's hand as firmly as he could without breaking another bone, which wasn't that hard of a grip at all, "You don't hate me?"

Blaine lifted his head again and his brows furrowed at Kurt, his eyes gentle and loving, "No, sweetheart. I don't hate you. I was just… so scared. When you didn't come back up I almost lost my mind and searched practically every single room of the hotel. Promise me, Kurt, that you'll _never _do anything like that again. You could have asked me to go to the parade with you. I would have gone with you. I'll do anything to make you happy. Kurt… you will promise me, won't you?"

Nodding his head as much as he could, Kurt held his arms out for Blaine, "Please, hold me. Please. I need to be in your arms."

"I don't want to hurt you," Blaine whispered, shaking his head. "You look so fragile right now. Like the smallest touch could break you." Running his knuckles over Kurt's silky cheek, Blaine swallowed down a lump in his throat when Kurt purred and pressed into his hand. Helpless to Kurt's power, Blaine carefully lifted himself off the chair he'd been sitting in and placed one knee on the bed, then brought the other up. Careful to avoid Kurt's tiny body curled up in the bed, Blaine stretched himself out beside of Kurt and lay his cheek down on the pillow beside Kurt's head. He placed his hand against Kurt's stomach and rubbed comfortingly, his finger swiveling against Kurt's belly button and Kurt slightly turned his head to him, his hand raising to the prongs in his nose and pulling on them. Blaine instantly grasped his hand in his and pulled it against his lips. "No. They stay, Kurt."

Kurt frowned at him, "I don't like you seeing me like this. At least let me take those out. I don't need them."

Blaine smirked at him, "If the doctor attached them to your body, you need them. You're so beautiful, Kurt. I love you like this… not bruised or injured, but so vulnerable in front of me. You're so perfect when your guard is down—you're perfect with your guard up, but… it's like seeing you naked. There's nothing to hide now."

Tears swelled up in Kurt's eyes at the realization that Blaine still loved him despite his lacking exterior, and Kurt carefully buried his face in Blaine's chest and tried to make the moment romantic even with the prongs in his nose. "I look horrible, Blaine. _I_ can't even stand to look at me."

Blaine tilted his head to press a kiss to the crown of Kurt's, "Funny, because I rather like looking at you. You've never looked horrible to me. I'd still want you if you were missing teeth and had an eyepatch." Smiling into Kurt's hair, Blaine snuggled him closer and kicked a leg over Kurt's waist, keeping all weight off of him but dragging him as close to himself as humanly possible. "Sweetheart… Earlier… when you said not to hate you… What'd you mean by that? Kurt, you know I could never hate you."

Kurt tucked his face into Blaine's neck, his skin flushing but he chose to be honest with Blaine, "I… I was frightened. When I first encountered the thugs, I thought about what might happen if they… raped me. And if you would still want me. They didn't do anything to me. They didn't even kiss me—any part of me. One of them touched my face and they slapped me but that was all. You came before they did anything."

Arching his brows, Blaine hugged Kurt tighter, "And… they didn't show you anything, did they? Not that—Not that it would matter to our relationship. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Kurt shook his head, "If you mean if they took off any of their clothes, not really. I didn't see anything. I think I'm fine."

"You are," Blaine confirmed, kissing that same spot, "They tested you for everything—even drugs, in case those thugs tried to drug you. Nothing came up. But, baby… Look at me, sweetheart. You know that you should have never doubted me, don't you? Kurt… you getting raped was a serious matter. Had they gone through with it, things would have seriously changed. But, angel… I would still want you. I think I could work through just about anything with you—even you cheating on me. Because I love you… so much. If you'd gotten raped, it would have driven me insane that those thugs did that to you and I probably would have done a hell of a lot worse to those assholes than knock them out, but I would have never held it against you. Angel… I've never told you this before but… the night I went to get Pavarotti back, that man was still there. And I saw him. I tried giving him money for Pavarotti, but… he wouldn't take it."

Kurt blinked at him in confusion, "He wouldn't? What did he want instead?"

"Sex," Blaine stated flatly, and Kurt's lips parted in surprise, "He… held a gun up to me and forced me to unzip my pants for him and… he almost gave me a blow job. But then I knocked him out. Baby, I never told you that before because I was ashamed. I was afraid of how you'd react and if I would disgust you. I didn't feel clean again for another week, and I know that man didn't actually touch me but… going home to you and seeing how perfect and pure and clean you were… made me feel sick that I'm not. I never will be again. I made a mistake in sleeping around with Quinn and Santana, and what that man did to me just brought back those memories. I just hate… that no matter how many times I soap my skin, I'll always be dirty. I want to be pure for you. I wanted you to be my first so badly. I know I didn't know you, but had I known you before I lost my virginity… you would have been my first. I would have taken one look at you and laid you flat across my desk and nailed you so hard. You drive me insane, honestly. You have no idea how tempting it is just to do that in class sometimes. Especially when you're working so hard on a paper and you stick your tongue out a little and narrow your eyes. You're adorable."

"You're sure you still want all the baggage that comes with me?" Kurt gazed earnestly up at him, his eyes wide and round, "I'm not easy to take care of."

"I never said I wanted easy," Blaine muttered, bending his head down to kiss the tip of Kurt's nose, "I always said I wanted you." Their lips met in a tangle of tongue and teeth, and even with his wounds and his career teetering by a mere nice streak from Stanley, Kurt closed his eyes peacefully and sank into the bliss of Blaine's strong arms.


	28. What I Did For Love

Author's note: Salut, my fellow Klainers. Wow, compared to my 20,000 word chapters this felt like so little to write and edit. I miss my short chapter days when editing only took twenty minutes, so here's another one! This chapter is only here to explain the next few chapters... and for the little, Klaine smut scene at the beginning. I have two more chapters planned before Klaine is back in Ohio! Because of the events in these recent chapters and my summary, there might be some confusion as to when Blaine is coming out. Even though these recent chapters had a fatal scene in them, this is not the ending or climax of my story. I still have plenty more chapters for this story. Okay, so I totally forgot to mention that when I brought up the restaurant Tiffany's, the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's, and Baz Luhrmann and his work, I'd like to mention that I don't own any of those things and that the Beauty and the Beast movie I mentioned in my last chapter is not real. Neither are the characters I put in as the governor of New York or his son. And when Blaine was correcting the girls about Breakfast at Tiffany's and the restaurant, I'd like to point out that I don't believe the restaurant is real and I know absolutely nothing about the movie because I haven't seen it so don't take my word on anything about those things. Anyway, to sum it up, I don't own anything except this story line and half of the things I mention are not real, are not mine or don't exist.

Disclaimer (for this chapter): I don't own Glee or Patti LuPone. To clear things up with my mention of her, she's not having the New Year's Eve party I wrote about in this chapter. I don't own Vogue, either. I wish I owned Pavarotti because I adore him, but I do not own him.

* * *

Kurt flicked his toes through his steaming bath water and tilted his head back, trailing his fingertips over the scalding water. Other than Pavarotti's beak clacking constantly against his talons as he offered himself a good cleaning and pedicure, Kurt's world had been deafened to the silence that he'd needed to hear for quite a while now. Studying his ruined body for what it was worth, Kurt flipped his arms over, twisting them this way and that and observing the merciless, plum purple bruises swelling on his usually perfectly flawless skin. His stomach and chest also previewed the same deal, except across his hip a slash at least two skin layers deep tainted his skin, while a brownish green bruise throbbed and pulsed around that. His eyes skimmed down his legs to his left foot, which he had propped over the rim of the bathtub, the cloth wrap wound around the sprained ankle needing changed before afternoon. His foot, which had swelled two times bigger than usual and had a purplish tone underlying in his skin, prickled in numbness from the pills the doctor had given him to tone down the persistent aching.

Thinking back to the fact that even he wanted to go home after what occurred in that alley, what with his dad constantly calling to check on him and the fight he knew Blaine would put up if he didn't want to go home, and to add on to all of that the media, Kurt sighed that Unique was actually forcing him to stay here until New Year's Day, when he could finally fly home and simply sink into his bed for hours to rest. Unique insisted that Kurt at least attempt to clear his name before surrendering it to the media for them to completely maul over, but honestly Kurt was far too exhausted to care about anything except going home.

Licking his lips, Kurt shifted his weight around and smoothed his hands over his stomach, wincing at the bruises fading back to white at his touch then blossoming out even worse than initially. Beside him Pavarotti twittered and cocked his head, and Kurt turned his head to his tiny bird patting his feet against the porcelain and wriggling his tail feathers. Etching a smile onto his sorrowful face to confirm that his weariness wasn't anything toward Pavarotti, Kurt held a finger out for Pavarotti to climb onto. "I missed you," he whispered softly to his bird, pressing a kiss to Pavarotti's forehead, "I hope you were good last night. What did you do while Blaine and I were away?"

Pavarotti flapped his wings in a shrugging form, breaking into a trilling as though he were attempting to answer Kurt's question. Suddenly, his head whipped around when the kissing sound of a door opening was followed by keys dropping to a counter, then Blaine's heavy footsteps clapped against the floor and Kurt blinked at a pair of black Keds entering the doorway. He lifted his gaze all the way up Blaine's body to where Blaine held a phone against his ear, his brows furrowed, "No," he finally muttered after a long pause of silence, heading vaguely in Kurt's direction and bending down to steal a kiss, "Unique, I told you I can't do this right now. I'm back at the hotel now." He spun away from Kurt and shrugged out of his Armani, black, peacoat that Kurt had bought him when he'd taken the girls out on a shopping spree before the trip.

Blaine sighed at something Unique must have said to him, and he rubbed his knuckles over his cheek, "I don't know. Probably not. Who's hosting?" Another pause, and Blaine flicked his eyes over to a helplessly curious Kurt, "Are you kidding? No. New Year's Eve? Unique, I'm telling you… This all depends on how Kurt's feeling. If you haven't noticed he can't even walk on his leg. Where are you?" One last moment of hesitation, and Blaine leaned against the counter and rubbed the nape of his neck, "Okay. I'm probably going to run down to the café to get some lunch for Kurt. I have to go, I'm at the room now so call me when you get here. I'll meet you in the lobby."

Finally, Blaine snapped his phone shut and tossed it more or less unceremoniously aside, heading over to Kurt and lowering onto the floor beside his tub. Blaine blew out heavily and laid his head back against the wall behind him, eyeing Kurt and sharing a mutual moment of understanding and annoyance at the chaos around them. "Sorry that took so long, babe. My attention is yours now." Cupping Kurt's cheek in his hand, Blaine leaned in to kiss the corner of Kurt's mouth that wasn't busted and left his lips there for a second too long. "Mm… As perfect as ever."

Kurt drew his good knee to his chest, wrapping his arm around it and ducking his head down to nurse Blaine's Adam's apple with his lips. He stroked his tongue across it, only to have Blaine jerk away with a freshly flushed face, his chest rising and dropping faster than it should have. Swallowing thickly, Blaine shook his head, "Not until you're better, Kurt. I don't want to lose control and end up hurting you worse. Believe me, I don't like waiting to hold you again, either."

Rolling his eyes playfully, Kurt turned his face away, "It's hard to think that you could want me like this. I'm hardly a sight to look at."

With no words, Blaine grasped Kurt's hand gently in his and brushed it against the crotch of his pants, where a bulge throbbed under Kurt's knuckles. Kurt flushed, instantly curling his fingers shyly, but Blaine wouldn't relent and continued holding Kurt's hand to that warm, steel-like spot, "I hope this changed your mind because there are a thousand other ways I could prove to you how turned on I am by you right now and none of them should even be legal."

"Okay," Kurt whispered demurely, sliding his hand from Blaine's crotch to the front of his thigh, a place still intimate enough to show Blaine that he liked the idea that Blaine still lusted after him, but appropriate enough to simply be a loving, almost-family-friendly touch between two boyfriends. "You win. I think we can save those thousand, illegal ways for a day when I can actually participate in them and savor them."

Blaine chuckled, leaning in for another kiss, "You wouldn't have to savor them because I'd do them whenever and wherever you liked. If you want to know my favorite we could save for a rainy day," Glancing around him and then leaning in as though someone else were listening, Blaine pressed his warm lips to the shell of Kurt's ear, his breath tickling him and making him squirm with glee, "It includes a sash and tying your pretty, little hands to the bed and this position where I can stay inside of you for up to forty hours and never tire. It's not exactly forever like I wish, but forty hours is impressive. And once I got through with you, you'd only beg for more."

Kurt coyly nipped his bottom lip and tried to keep his hands from trembling as his limp cock drank in Blaine's every hot whisper down his neck, Blaine's lips slowly descending down his throat to his shoulder where he bit down like a sexy vampire. "I t-thought you… you said you couldn't handle doing things like this to me when we can't have sex."

Blaine lapped his tongue over Kurt's tightening nipple, "I know… but I just thought… there's always masturbation. Or, better yet, you could do it for me and I'll take care of you. It's not as good as climbing in between your sexy legs, but it's second best. You have no idea how beautiful you look during a climax. I love watching you." Idly Blaine dipped his hand into the water, stroking his thumb over the tip of Kurt's stiffened, weeping cock, and Kurt helplessly mewled before he could stop himself.

At the breathy, sexy sound escaping Kurt's lips as his hips popped into Blaine's hand, Blaine's mouth fell open and he eyed Kurt's flushed cheeks, his eyes fighting to stay open. "_Fuck…_ Are you hearing yourself, Kurt? You're an angel like this."

Kurt whimpered and swiveled his hips, too far gone for Blaine to stop now. Blaine hadn't been expecting this at all. In fact, he hadn't even been expecting to tease Kurt, but just laying his eyes upon his angel's delicate, naked form slippery with water had Blaine going the second he'd walked through the door. It'd be cruel to leave Kurt in this state, even with the excuse of his ankle, so Blaine lifted himself onto his knees and gripped Kurt's hurt leg in his hand, peeling it up from the porcelain tub so during his writhing he wouldn't bang it against the rim.

Staring down at Kurt's wriggling, damp form and knowing that _he'd_ done that to Kurt, Blaine wedged himself up against the tub and parted his lips just wide enough. He bent over the rim and winced when the porcelain frame dug into his chest, but ignored it the second his lips touched Kurt's cock. Blaine nearly blacked out of pleasure in that one touch, and he closed his eyes as his tongue slipped out of his mouth and he lapped it over the bottom of Kurt's dripping wet cock jabbing into his belly button. Finally, he closed his shimmering wet lips around Kurt's tip and his brain fully shut down, his body taking over at the bliss of Kurt's flavor, shape and soft, silky skin pressing against the roof of his mouth. If he could have, he would have swallowed Kurt whole. Almost losing Kurt last night gave Blaine a whole new view of his lover, and it took everything in him not to snatch Kurt's hips in his hands, lift him deeper into his mouth and ram his mouth up and down his lover's sore body.

Kurt's shaking hands slowly slid to his back and through the material of his black, dress shirt he clawed at Blaine's back with his scuffed nails that Unique swore needed a rebuffing immediately. Suckling hard enough to bruise his own lips, Blaine released a loud moan of pleasure as Kurt's pre-come trickled onto his tongue, and he instantly swallowed it down. Kurt mewled softly again as his toes curled and his toes on his good foot tugged Blaine's chest hair—not that he minded. Any tugging or scratching from Kurt on his body only turned him on more.

Blaine slid his mouth up and down Kurt's cock, his saliva coating Kurt's cock and making each drop and pull easier than the last. Suddenly, Kurt's legs mindlessly kicked, so Blaine tightened his grip on his injured leg to hold it steady. Popping his mouth off of the shining cock, Blaine pressed kisses up and down the bottom of it until he reached the sac nestled underneath. He lapped them with his tongue, and without further notice Kurt's head snapped back with a scream, the top of his cock exploding in the water. Blaine dropped his head back down onto it, drinking in the sweet flavor of Kurt tainted with the slightest after-tang of salt on Blaine's tongue.

Whatever it was about the flavor, Blaine wanted to coat it over Kurt's body then lick it off. At last, Kurt emptied his load on Blaine and lay back limply but before his back could touch the rim of the tub Blaine lunged and wrapped his arm around him. Panting in his arms, Kurt's face feverishly burst with color and he hazily focused his eyes on Blaine. A soft smile curved his lips genuinely, and he lifted his head up slightly to lick the corner of Blaine's mouth with the tip of his tongue. He held out his tongue to show off the bit of come that Blaine had missed, and Blaine instantly tangled his tongue with Kurt's to intercept Kurt from swallowing it.

"You're amazing," Kurt whispered to him in awe, shaking his head lightly, and his fingers crept to Blaine's collar. As he unbuttoned the first button, the main door leading into the bedroom area swung open and smacked the wall, and Blaine abruptly whipped around to shout aggressively.

"_Don't look in here!_" Blaine staggered to his feet and slammed the bathroom door shut just as the top of Unique's head poked around the doorway.

"Blaine!" he shouted, instantly knocking on the door, "What the hell are you doing in there? I called you five minutes ago and you said you'd pick up!"

Blaine ignored his shouting and threw open the closet door, pulling out a towel and hurrying back over to Kurt. He knelt down carefully beside of Kurt despite his rushed attitude, and with a soft whisper he bundled Kurt into the cradle of his arms, lifting him up and lowering him onto the towel. Folding the towel around Kurt's thighs and chest just as he always preferred his towels wrapped, Blaine tucked the corner of the towel in to keep it pinned closed, then cradled Kurt against his chest again. Kurt draped an arm loosely around Blaine's neck, assuring that Pavarotti was scampering after them with a single glance over Blaine's powerful shoulder.

Kicking open the door again, Blaine arched a single brow at Unique, "Sorry I didn't pick up, I was… occupied."

"Clearly," Unique snapped, not in the mood for games, "Blaine, I don't think you get how serious this is. And, Kurt, even though you've been resting in bed all day you should know that the rest of us are working our asses off at the offices to clear your name in the media—"

Peeling the covers back and tucking Kurt under them then pressing a kiss to his forehead, Blaine shot Unique a warning look as he bent to lift Pavarotti in his palms and hand him over to Kurt who quietly cooed over him and gave him a good stroking. "Unique, we're all suffering here but don't you dare put this on him. I told you I'd meet you in the lobby. I don't want him hearing about the shit going on outside of this room. Once he's healed and finally goes into the public, this will all be blown over. It's not like _he_ did anything wrong. He was almost raped, he didn't encourage the prostitution."

Still not backing down from being pissed off—as he had been since Blaine had carried a half disrobed Kurt to the limo after yesterday's failed dinner—Unique snapped bitterly at Blaine, "And this is why you're not famous, Blaine. We may know that Kurt hasn't started whoring for thugs, but you should hear some of the shit going on about him. And by next week it'll be in the international magazines that Kurt's tramping now. Do you realize how many innocent stars had their names tainted because of the press? Justin Bieber's a good example. He was just an untainted singer for little girls and then one day some asshole decided he was a faggy asshole, and he decided to own the name and because of it he's turned into a self-serving douche bag who thinks his name is bigger than _Madonna's_."

Blaine made a wild gesture with his hands, lowering onto the bed and slipping his fingers through Kurt's, "And what does Justin Bieber have to do with Kurt? It doesn't matter what names the media gives him, Kurt would never try to _own_ them. Can we just keep this on Kurt's situation? What do you suggest we do to fix this?"

"We _need_ to make his situation innocent." Unique snapped, losing his façade of wrath when he discovered that Blaine was fully on board with righting Kurt's name, "Obviously no pictures were taken of the thugs that attacked Kurt. But because of the BDSM photo shoot that just happened and then Kurt turning up in a hospital the next day injured from almost-sexual abuse, people are calling him a slut and saying that he's a BDSM victim. And people are thinking that his sexual partner who hurt him is you, because you carried him out of that restaurant like a freaking horny, rampaging bull. The media will do anything to attack, Blaine, and you weren't being careful. _You_ need to fix this."

"What are you saying?" Blaine muttered, squeezing Kurt's hand. "That people think I'm a sexual rapist? Great, that's something more to add to my permanent record." He rolled his eyes sardonically, only to snap back to attention when Unique barked out a reply.

"Stop being sarcastic! I'm not in the mood for bullshitting, Blaine. If you ever want Kurt to have his name cleared, you're going to have to make a sacrifice." Unique hesitated and licked his lips, his throat closing up in worry that Blaine would reject the idea, "We're going to have to trash the photo shoot pictures and replace them with pictures of you being _caught_—" Unique made air quotations with his fingers at the word, "—kissing Kurt in an innocent, family-friendly and kind way that everyone will believe. Then, we need to forge an interview with you that makes you seem like someone who loves Kurt more than anything." Realizing that Blaine in fact did love Kurt more than anything, Unique rephrased himself, "I mean… Obviously you do and the three of us and Stanley know that, but no one else does. Blaine, I know that this is going to be hard for you since you're not gay—or, at least, you haven't admitted to being gay—but this is the only—"

"I'll do it," Blaine muttered simply, shocking both Kurt and Unique into utter silence. At their expressions Blaine shrugged his shoulder, "If it's the only way to get Kurt out of this… I'll do whatever it takes, gay or straight aside. But, Unique, you have to promise me something. These can't publish in Ohio."

Unique shook his head, "They won't. I promise. The only people who got the scandalous pictures of you and Kurt at that restaurant were from companies that publish only in New York, and then obviously the news will spread over to France when Vogue returns there. But I plan to have any employee fired who threatens to talk bad about Kurt. Blaine… Are you sure you can do this? We'll keep your name anonymous and try to position the camera so it gets as little of your face as possible, but I don't make any promises of who will recognize you and who won't. And if people start finding out, there's nothing that I could do for you at that point. A kiss is a kiss."

Blaine quieted down as he glanced over at Kurt, who nibbled his lip softly, and finally he nodded. "I'm sure. As long as people I know don't recognize me. Once we go home on New Year's Day I'll never be returning to New York again, and I'll never be going to France so… I don't think it matters."

Kurt wriggled slightly up on his pillows, and he touched his hand to Blaine's arm, "Blaine… you don't have to do this. You're right, this whole thing will fade away one day. As long as the people I love know the true story, I don't mind having my name tainted."

"I need a confirmative answer," Unique muttered, pounding away at his phone, "Stanley says he's on board with this but he doesn't own the magazine. The magazine wants some kind of picture with Kurt on it in two weeks, and right now all that they have are the photo shoot pictures. Once those are sent in, the deal is done and Kurt's name won't be changed from the way it is now."

Blaine licked his lips, figuring that since he didn't really know anyone from France or New York and with his name being left anonymous and the camera tilted away from his face, what harm could be done? He'd just be the dark haired, mystery boyfriend in Kurt's arms. Closing his eyes, Blaine nodded his head, "Tell Stanley I said I'll do it."

"Okay," Unique nodded his head, holding his phone up to his ear and chewing his perfect nail in a way that didn't seem like Unique at all. After a few rings, Kurt and Blaine heard the muffled sound of Stanley's voice. "Yeah," Unique replied to Stanley, "He's willing. And they'll need to make an appearance at Patti LuPone's New Year's Eve party just to confirm things." Waiting a brief pause, Unique bobbed his head again despite the fact that Stanley couldn't see him, "Alright. And what about the music video?" Unique flicked his eyes to Kurt and Blaine during the next pause, then finished by murmuring, "Alright. I'll let them know."

Unique snapped his phone shut and zeroed his eyes in on Kurt and Blaine, his mouth stiff and firm, "Here's how this is going to work. Kurt, you _need_ to stay in bed today and that means no horsing around with Blaine. Tomorrow I'm taking you two down to the studio and we'll do the pictures there, and then since Blaine needs to stay on the down low right now you guys are going to just record the song without the video. Stanley was going to switch you over to doing a Britney Spears song, but Kurt needs innocent right now—especially with boys and the media—so you'll still be doing Baby, It's Cold Outside. Then, on New Year's Eve you'll be going down to Patti LuPone's New Year's Eve party and you're going to act perfectly normal. Don't even address that the media's acting up about you, Kurt. If you act normal, they'll be warded off that anything ever happened and start believing that everything's normal with you—which it is. Try not to talk to one person for a long time, either, or else they might start questioning you and you could slip up. Be polite but have a cold shoulder. Understand? And _stay away from men._ I know it bothers you when people call you a prude, but you'd rather be a prude than a whore. Trust me. Don't go anywhere alone, don't smile at any men, don't let them approach you. It sounds hostile but, Kurt, this is serious.

"And, Blaine… you need to stick with Kurt at all times. Touch him whenever you can, kiss on him if you want to, but for one night you need to be…" Unique winced as he searched for a correct word. "Less aggressive. Face it, Blaine, you're very threatening when you want to be. If you show that side of yourself in front of the media, they're going to assume that you _did_ molest and hurt Kurt. You need to be sweet to him at all times, and show no signs of jealousy even if men start eyeing Kurt. The media is going to be watching like a hawk and if you make the slightest wrong move, they're going to eat it up. It'd even be good if you tugged Kurt out of the room for a few minutes like you were going for privacy to do… things only done in private between couples. Kurt, you need to show willingness to Blaine at all times. If you even slightly resist him—"

"—people will think I'm forcing him into the sex. We get it." Blaine muttered, sliding an arm around Kurt's shoulders and laying back beside him. "Besides, I would never treat Kurt wrongly."

"And I would never resist Blaine," Kurt added as an afterthought, only to flush when Unique screwed up his face at him. Beside him, Blaine chuckled lowly at Kurt's naïve admittance, unable to help himself.

"Okay!" Unique waved his hands through the air, "I get it! Just be yourselves with each other, I guess. But _act_ the way I told you to with the rest of your public. The media's harsh but they're also easily manipulated. They take what we give them, and if we show that you two are the perfect sweethearts they'll move on from Kurt and he'll go back to being a prude—_which,_ although still a rude name, is better than being a whore."

"But what about at the party?" Blaine raised his hands up in a helpless gesture, "People will see my face, and once that magazine publishes with me kissing Kurt on it they're going to realize my hair didn't change. And when I left that restaurant they were taking pictures of us."

"These are chances you're going to have to take, Blaine," Unique whispered, his face stretching in sorrow as his lips pushed down, "Our plan isn't going to be perfect. The best we can do is put a hat on you for the pictures. I'll take care of the rest after the party. Once you go back to Ohio, I want both of you to focus on school, or, Kurt, you with your dad. Just… don't worry about the leftover aftermath in France and New York. After a few weeks that the pictures have been out, I'll email you about the direction things have taken and see if things are any better than they are now. Whatever happens, this _should _stay away from Ohio."

Blaine's brows hit his hairline, and he slightly pushed himself up, "_Should?_ Wait… Unique… What do you mean, _should?_ Will it or won't it?"

Unique automatically took a step back, his brows cocking, "I mean… it might." When Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers, Unique defensively blurted, "Blaine, I have no control of where the media goes! Besides, the magazines we know of who have scandalous pictures of you and Kurt are the ones that publish only in New York. There could be others that we don't know about yet. Blaine, I don't know what's going to happen in the future. I'm trying to fix everything but I'm not a superhuman. Like you said, we're all suffering here. What's wrong with being gay, anyway? _I'm_ mentally transgender and I'm one of the most powerful men in Vogue—probably in the entire of France. I've done well with myself. I haven't gotten a homophobic comment since I dropped out of high school when Stanley discovered me. What you're saying is kind of insulting to Kurt—and me, too. It's like you're a closeted homophobe."

"No—!" Blaine shouted defensively, but Kurt swiftly cut in.

"Unique." He reprimanded curtly, his eyes narrowed, "Please. We both know that Blaine has nothing against gays. It took me time to finally believe that, but I trust Blaine. Blaine doesn't even know if he's in the closet and you're asking him to premiere on a magazine kissing _me_. Don't lie and say that coming out wasn't scary for you. This is almost like asking Blaine to come out, except he's not even in the closet—that he knows of. He's not insulting either of us, this is about him fearing homophobes, just like you did."

Unique's brows furrowed at Blaine, who turned his face away sheepishly, "Is that true, Blaine? I was starting to think you weren't afraid of anything. You seem like an emotionless brick wall most of the time."

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, and he breathed out in relief that Kurt squeezed his hand and understood what he was trying to say, and finally he nodded his head, "It's not that I'm really afraid of homophobes. I've been friends with a couple of them and they're all just idiots who get bored then pick on other people. I'm not threatened by that. I don't know what I'm really scared of. It's just…" Kurt suddenly stiffened when from under Blaine's closed, trembling lashes a tear slipped from his right eye, followed swiftly by another from his left and his throat wobbled with trying to swallow down a lump of pain, "I wish I could love Kurt the way he deserves. I've never been ashamed of you… Kurt, but I'm so ashamed of myself. I'm not brave enough for you. And I don't even know what I'm hiding from. I've never deserved you, and I hate myself that I don't. I want to be your prince so badly. I'm so sorry that I'm not, Kurt."

Pressing his knuckles into his lips, Blaine abruptly burst from the bed and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After that, silence drifted into the room like a thick blanket, and both Kurt and Unique, who had been left speechless, stared silently at the door, Kurt in shock for what Blaine admitted in front of Unique and that he'd actually broken down over it, and Unique that for the first time ever he truly believed that Blaine was deep into the closet, so deep that he couldn't even bring himself to admit it. Unique remembered those days when he was the same, and how perfectly his life had changed when he did come out that he became a co-manager for Vogue—at least, for the one in France.

Well, Unique hadn't exactly been as Blaine was now. Blaine happened to be one of the worst cases he'd ever seen, and when closeted gays acted the way Blaine was, they usually turned into life gays who married women, had a beautiful family, then one day met a thirty year old gay man and had an affair that threw his entire life into hell.

If things were the way Unique thought, it would take a miracle to give Blaine the courage to come out, or even to say to himself that he was gay. And that was the thought that turned his gaze to Kurt, by far the most beautiful and perfect creature on the face of the earth. Unique knew of no man, gay or straight, who could turn away the flawless and gentle Kurt Hummel, and if there was one person who could bring Blaine out, it was Kurt.

Leaving Kurt, the love of his life, to another man's will and passion—especially to a brute like Blaine—pained Unique, but knowing that Blaine tended to please Kurt far more than Unique ever had and the gentle love behind Blaine's usually fiery and blazing eyes every time he glanced at Kurt told Unique that if he didn't serve a chance of winning Kurt over, why not let Kurt be happy in another man's arms?

After all, it was what a good friend would do, right? And that he always would be—just a good friend.

* * *

Author's note again: Okay, so for all of you Unique fans I'd like to let all of you know that because I am fond of Unique, if you want to give me a suggestion of a Glee character or a character you made up yourself who you think would be good for Unique as a boyfriend, you can review or PM me! I hope you all liked this chapter for it being so short and without much action behind it, but there's more drama to come in later chapters :)


	29. Baby, It's Cold Outside

Author's note: Hey, readers of this author's note. First of all, I'd like to point out that the New York chapters are officially over! The aftermath from them isn't, but they are. My next chapter might get confusing for a few readers, so in case you don't understand a lot of the references in it, I'd suggest looking over Somewhere Only We Know (Ch. 22) It's going to refer a lot back to that. Second of all, SilverWhiteDragon, this chapter is in honor of YOU! Just because you gave me some AMAZING ideas and your PMs and reviews are hilarious! JMarieAllenPoe, I miss your fabulous ideas. I feel like dedicating one of my stories just to you because they are half your ideas XD Thirdly, I should probably mention this AFTER you read this chapter but I'm mentioning it now because I don't like doing second author's notes. Clearly from this chapter I want Pavarotti to have a bird friend. Therefore, I'll take any suggestions of whether you want his friend to be male or female, if you want him to have children (and how many, but the number must be realistic; I'm thinking three to five,) and names for them. There isn't that much of a time limit because I probably won't have his friend added until the end of the story so if you have ideas let me know! :D

Flobouille93: Your review wasn't offensive at all because I can take good criticism and I think you had a very good background for your dislikes of my story. I realize that I'm not going to be able to please everyone with everything I write and I'm actually relieved you explained to me what you didn't like. I've had a lot of reviews that absolutely bashed my story and I didn't really get a reason why so I wasn't sure what I could change or try to make them understand why I wrote what I did. Some things I won't change because they're my strong opinion, but when I talk about food and percentages or anything like that it's almost never my actual opinion or even true. I realize that more gay people than that get married in France but using the percentage that I did just fit that specific scene. I've also never had authentic French food, but I think my comment on that defers back to what point-of-view any of my readers look at that comment through. I didn't mean that all French food is tasteless. I'm actually kind of jealous of having never eaten French food. I meant for my readers to see that comment through Kurt, as in he didn't have that much money back in France and probably couldn't afford finer foods that often which is why he taught himself to cook. I think that all countries have good food and bad food. I'm from the United States and I know for a fact that we have our share of bad foods. If that was too vague I'm really sorry if you took that as me insulting your country because I'd actually love to travel to France. And about me mentioning that all French people are "anorexic", I also meant that comment to be seen through Kurt's eyes. He obviously worked for a modeling company and even though I don't believe all models are skinny enough to look anorexic, a few of them do (ex. many Victoria's Secret models) and he's been around those people most so that's why I wrote that. If any other things bother you, you can mention them to me but this is really just a work of fiction and almost every "fact" in it isn't true at all. I guess my best suggestion is to try seeing it through the person's eyes of who said it or thought it. That was definitely my opinion about BDSM and Pavarotti's abuse and everything, but my characters are always going to differentiate and sometimes I'm going to write things I don't believe or don't know as a fact. I hope my explanation helps and I'm really sorry all of that offended you but I never usually mean things offensively (except when I'm talking about Brittany, Santana or Karofsky.) Anyway, thanks for liking my story and I appreciate your support :)

Disclaimer: Okay, I lied two chapters ago and my friend ratted me out for it. I own more than a t-shirt but I doubt anyone cares what of Glee I own, Arkell! Anyway, I don't own Glee and read and review! Hopefully you guys like this one! I love all of you for the amazing support you've given me!

* * *

Gazing out the window of the limo, Kurt touched his fingertips to the foggy glass frosted over from the fallen snow, innocent children giggling as they chased each other around the apartment complex lawns, chucking snow at each other. On the sidewalk a jogger holding a hound's leash blew out fogs of air from her lips, her thick ear muffs hiding her light hair swept up into a messy ponytail. Suddenly, a car zoomed past the limo, momentarily blocking out Kurt's view of the seemingly normal world around him, and he slouched down in his seat. It was as if nothing had changed since yesterday, as though Kurt's world hadn't almost ended—or, would have, without Blaine… or his fabulous company, for that matter.

Like nothing had ever happened, the world continued rotating. As if Kurt hadn't been nearly killed by thugs, then accused of being a BDSM victim to Blaine just because of the turn of events and the way they had happened, one by one. Back in Ohio, the boys were probably hanging out right at this moment, just waking up from a sleepover. His father was probably bent over the hood of a car, his teachers traveling back to Ohio from their Christmas vacations. Everyone everywhere had places to be, except Kurt, who felt as though he were running in place. In a matter of seconds of stupidity, his entire life had changed from being a prude who didn't have a man to a slut who prostituted for men, and it would take months to earn back the respect he once had from his fans—if he ever did at all.

From across their seating arrangements Rachel sensed his inner turmoil and reached across to brush her fingers against his knee, and he glanced up through blurry eyes to find her gentle smile staring back at him. Managing a weak smile back at her, Kurt leaned into Blaine who tightened his arm around Kurt's shoulders and he closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of Blaine's tangy, Truefitt & Hill Grafton Cologne. Comfortingly Blaine tore himself out of his conversation with Unique over the difference between Armani and Ralph Lauren to nuzzle the shell of Kurt's ear, his voice a soft, sorrowful whisper, "You're gonna be okay, I promise. I'll do anything to get you out of this."

The limo rolled to a stop in front of the Vogue corporations, and despite how breathtaking the whole, spanning skyscraper had appeared to their Lima-adjusted eyes, none of them gasped in glee over it now. The driver popped out of the car and walked around to the side of the limo nearest the building, and he silently propped the door open on his thigh as he stood back and waited for the lot of them to pile out. Unique stepped out first, followed by Tina, Mercedes and Rachel in that order, and Blaine scooted himself toward the door while hugging a still incapacitated Kurt to his chest. He set his foot on the icy ground, arranging Kurt to sit on his lap as he stepped completely out of the car, half carrying Kurt with him. Kurt leaned his weight appreciatively against Blaine, who wandered after Unique and the girls toward the doors.

Instantly sliced with the scent of ink, copying paper and electricity burning away, Kurt ducked his head down as the Americans who worked at this Vogue on a regular basis before the Vogue committee from France inhabited their basement until further notice each tore their gazes from their computers they pounded away at and eyed him with stunned gazes that he actually had it in him to return to the public. Soon enough their whispers tainted the air, that Kurt was a cheating whore to a man who beat him during sex, and that he wasn't so innocent after all. Blaine shook his head in disbelief at their whispering, and he whipped Kurt around toward the elevators to nudge him on after the girls.

Unique stepped out of the group of them to glance over the lot of them, then he started with a pep talk, "Okay… Girls, no wandering around today. We need to stick together. Kurt, Blaine, you know how this is going to work. I plan to spend only an hour here, then we'll go back to the hotel and I'll give Kurt a makeover before the party tomorrow. We want to be discreet wherever we go."

Blaine nodded his head, also glimpsing at the girls, "You remember the story we're going by? If the media tries to talk to any of you, you know what to say, don't you?"

Mercedes bobbed her head obediently, for once not lashing out with her diva attitude in the mournful time of Kurt's lost reputation, "Yeah. Just don't say anything to them. Unique, you're sure this will work? What if this fails?"

Unique shook his head, "This _has_ to work. It's the only plan I have right now, and I can't keep Kurt here forever plotting ways to fix his reputation. Kurt should go back to being innocent after tomorrow's party. Kurt, how are you holding up? You look pale. Did you sleep?"

Blaine shook his head in reply for Kurt, "No. He hardly slept at all. Unique, this has been hard on us—"

Before Blaine got around to finishing his sentence the elevator doors parted, revealing Stanley in a heated debate with a man holding what looked like a picture in his hand. Unique stepped out of the elevator first, followed once again by the girls, then by Kurt and Blaine, the former the one person who still hadn't spoken a word since he and Blaine had been alone. For Kurt, his silence was unusual. Clearing his throat to draw in Stanley's attention, Unique snapped his fingers and widened his eyes slightly at Stanley when the redly-faced man whipped around to face them. In seconds, the man standing with Stanley pointed wildly to Kurt and shouted, "Oh, there you are! Kurt, sweetheart, can we get an interview with you? I'm Rodney Withers from the New York show, Wake up, America!, and I'd love to get a chat in with the famous Kurt Hummel and what went wrong. Why has the beautiful Kurt Hummel started prostituting and was it because of drugs or an abusive childhood? Maybe it's because you lacked a father in your life—"

"Get out!" Stanley suddenly screamed at the man, startling him into taking a step back. "If you ever approach my superstar again I'll have you sued for everything you own."

The man dumbly reached into his bag for a notepad, and he muttered aloud as he jotted down, "Why Dakota Stanley loses it on December thirtieth, when he should be in the festive spirit—"

Abruptly security guards piled out from behind a door and snatched the man up, dragging his protesting form out of the room and slamming the door behind themselves. Stunned by the show of protectiveness from Stanley, Kurt blinked and linked his fingers with Blaine when Stanley whirled around to face them, wiping invisible sweat from his brow, "It's endless, I'm telling you. Unique, I've got the interview forged and I contacted Madam LuPone about our superstar's confirmation to attend." Spotting Kurt wedged behind the girls, weakly leaning against Blaine, Stanley's face surprisingly softened and he pushed past the girls to brush his fingertips under Kurt's chin to bring his head up, "Kurt, I'm so sorry things had to be this way. Are you quite alright? I'll fix your reputation and this won't happen again."

Blaine immediately stepped forward, "What do we have to do? We don't have time to chat—I want Kurt's reputation fixed as _soon_ as possible_._"

Unique sighed heavily, "And there's that temper I told you to keep on hold for a while. Fine, we'll get to the shoot. This can't look professional or staged at all, so no one do anyone's makeup. Kurt, screw up your hair a little. I think your cream, turtleneck is fine—it covers everything and makes you look… less whorish. Somebody take Blaine to wardrobe. Jeans and a hoodie. Nothing with the Vogue label on it. I want _less-than-perfect,_ people. Kurt, come with me. We'll be doing the photo shoot over against that wall."

Sidling up to Kurt and placing a helping hand at Kurt's shoulder, Unique wriggled him out from Blaine's protective grip and the two of them hobbled over to the concrete wall without anything around it to give away that this was actually a Vogue photo shoot to save Kurt's neck. Kurt knelt down on the floor with Unique's supportive grip, and he kicked his wounded leg off to the side to keep from bending it. Patting Kurt's shoulder that Pavarotti wasn't resting on, Unique waited until Kurt tilted his face up at him to murmur, "You think you know what to do? Don't even think that the camera is on you. Remember, Kurt, things can only get better from here."

Kurt nodded his head, his eyes misting over and he whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry I left the hotel alone and didn't stay at that dinner. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you."

Unique sighed heavily and knelt in front of Kurt, bundling his needy form in his arms, "You're new at this. Every star makes a mistake along the way. Just… relax and let us take care of this. I have the connections to make anyone believe anything."

Meekly smiling at Unique, Kurt released him when the cameraman started setting up not a foot away, "_Merci,_ Unique. You're the best friend I've always dreamed of."

Unique took a step away from Kurt, allowing his spot to be replaced by Blaine, "Go get them, superstar."

Blaine dropped to the floor beside of Kurt, collecting Kurt in his arms and brushing a fallen hair off his forehead unconsciously. The man bowed over his camera and Unique stood right beside him, his hands clasped together anxiously. They all knew if this plan failed, Kurt would be doomed to a future of sneering and glaring from those who hadn't ever _prostituted._ And Blaine would never settle for less than perfection of how his lover was treated.

Flipping his hood up as far as it would go over his face, Blaine hooked his hands around Kurt's waist and leaned slightly over him, keeping his face away from the camera. Kurt's hand covered his cheek that still remained showing toward the camera, one of his fingers tucking a bouncing curl into Blaine's hood as his eyes fluttered shut. Showing total willingness toward Blaine but not submission, Kurt tilted his head and brushed their lips together, and Blaine replied by slightly parting his. Their lips locked with a quiet pop, and from nearby gasps from who they imagined were the girls emerged as they remained planted in that position, lips only slightly moving and sucking so they didn't pass out from lack of air. Suddenly, after three flashes of light that might have blinded them had their eyes been open, Unique cleared his throat.

"Okay, we're good," he muttered, taking note that Kurt and Blaine didn't rip apart instantly. Blaine finished their kiss with a single nudge and brushed his knuckles over Kurt's cheekbone, then slowly pulled away with a moist noise.

Almost unable to tear his gaze from Kurt's round, blue eyes, Blaine finally managed to glance over to the cameraman scanning through the pictures to decide on the best one, and Stanley standing off to the side scrolling on his phone. The girls, still in their shielding huddle as they always were at Vogue corporations, each eyed Kurt and Blaine with shocked expressions—except for Rachel, who had turned her face away as though in rejection.

Kurt directed his gaze to Unique, his fingers massaging his tingling lips, "What do we do now?"

Stanley flicked his eyes up to him, "You're going to record Baby, It's Cold Outside now. We have an appointment with the Warblers Recording Studio in less than an hour."

Blaine's brows shot up, "The _Warblers?_ As in… Pavarotti?"

"It's actually very good symbolism," Unique put in as an afterthought, "Warblers are very noisy—like Pavarotti. I think a recording studio could be called The Warblers for good reason."

For the first time in a few hours, Kurt managed a genuine smile and replied cheekily, "It actually is rather catchy. Besides, I've heard of that recording studio and people say that the record producers are very nice people."

"I've heard that they're gay," Unique muttered nonchalantly, then glanced around at everyone's stunned faces at the tossed out rumor and threw his hands apart, "What six guys call their record producing company The Warblers without one of them being gay? I'm transgender and my gay-dar is better than anyone else's, so I know when someone is gay without even meeting them."

Stanley waved his hands through the air, "Does it matter if they're gay! Kurt, Blaine, it's two blocks away so have your driver take you. Unique, go with them. Girls, go _somewhere._ Ask for Wes when you get there and mention my name. You'll get right in with them. We'll work on these pictures while you're gone and we'll have them on the internet by tonight, but they'll be premiering in the magazine within two weeks."

Blaine heaved himself to his feet, bending over and gripping Kurt's waist. Kurt carefully rose to his feet, still wobbly even though he was starting to put slight pressure on his left foot. When Unique had said to stay near Blaine at the party, Kurt suddenly believed that the only way to make it through the party without toppling over was to lean on Blaine… the _entire _time.

But it wasn't like he minded at all.

* * *

Blaine stepped through the electronically sliding doors of the Warblers Recording Studio and glanced around himself at the warm interior—not exactly meaning the toasty air circulating through the room that managed to melt the ice from his bones the second he stepped through the doors, but this place reminded him of when a baby was born and a mother decorated his nursery. Based on movies he'd seen and rumors stirred about other recording studios, no one thought them to be places of comfort to throw oneself down in a chair and sip on tea all day. Somehow this place had managed to stir together a lounging room while appearing as classy as the British queen's parlor room.

Painted pictures of delicate warblers dotted the oak walls, something that Pavarotti delighted in as he insisted on twittering at every new picture he spotted of a fellow bird. He fluffed himself out at the cozy heating system and Blaine feared he wouldn't be willing to leave now that he'd found his bird sanctuary. At the end of the room where it split off into two different hallways a birch desk lay vacant, with only an advanced computer left in its wake. Blaine paused at the desk and Kurt gratefully leaned against it, taking the weight off of his foot, while Unique whispered in his ear, "Told you they were gay. The decorating is a dead giveaway."

Blaine shrugged him off with a half-annoyed, half-amused sneer and he wasn't exactly sure whether to laugh at or scorn Unique's quick assumptions about the Warblers. Unique flicked his eyes down the left hallway, then to the right and he made an impatient sound in his throat, "Huh. You think they're gone?"

"Maybe we're early," Kurt suggested innocently, his brows arching as his eyes sought out a heavily cushioned couch that seemed to scream his name, "I wouldn't mind waiting."

Blaine turned his head in the direction Kurt was eyeing like how a child eyed a stick of cotton candy, and he held down a smirk, "We should get you off your foot, babe. Unique, I'm going to go sit down with Kurt. He needs to rest before recording a song. Call us over if anyone shows up."

Unique whipped around when he spotted Blaine nearly carrying Kurt over to the couches, then setting him down on his lap and whispering lowly to him. Kurt's brows furrowed at whatever he said, which appeared to be serious, until he nodded his head and Blaine leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Hey," murmured a voice from behind him, and Unique spun around to spot a dark skinned boy who looked no older than high school age plopping down at his computer and eyeing Unique with a brilliant smile, "David. How can I help you?"

Flicking his eyes around as his throat suddenly tightened up and his skin flushed—something that hadn't happened since he'd gotten his first crush on a boy named Shane Tinsley and then had his heart smashed to pieces. Well, except for when he'd met Kurt and lost his ability to speak for five straight minutes then had to run to the bathroom to wait for his burning flush to fade when Kurt had helplessly giggled and asked teasingly if he was choking. But he'd learned to bat down those kinds of moments from happening around Kurt.

Suddenly, another body emerged beside him and he glimpsed over at Blaine, who cocked a single brow at him as though to ask what was up with him, then he turned his gaze to a patiently awaiting David, "We're here for Dakota Stanley. This is Kurt Hummel and I'm Blaine Anderson. And this is—"

"Unique." David stated without pause, grinning at Unique, "I know who you are. Pardon if I don't squeal and take pictures of all of you. I think everyone's a human and to never lose my dignity over some celebrity." He arched a single brow and glanced over his shoulder at the hallway to the left, "I think Wes is still back there recording with Lopez but they should be out in about ten minutes."

Blaine's eyes slightly widened, "Jennifer… Lopez?"

David snickered lowly, "No, the George one." At their stunned faces he belted out a cackle, "I'm kidding! Everyone knows George Lopez can't sing. Yes, J-Lo. Our company gets everyone from Bieber to Aerosmith. Well… not Aerosmith. But we do pop, classical—we'd even do yodeling if it was good enough. And we'll gladly do French music, Monsieur Hummel."

Sensing the boy's friendliness, Kurt murmured softly, "Kurt. You can call me Kurt. And I won't be doing French today. Perhaps some parts of the song I will, but I'll be singing in English. With Blaine."

"What's this about Kurt Hummel?" a dark headed boy stuck his head out of the hallway to the right, followed swiftly by a blond who clearly lightened his hair either with the box brand—judged that way just because Kurt noticed the dark roots at the top of his head—or lemon juice, like he'd deemed of Sam Evans.

"Whoa," stated yet another boy who swiftly paced out of the hallway behind him, "Kurt Hummel, it's an honor. I'm Trent, and that's Nick and Jeff. They're hard to tell apart—because they're _always_ together—" Trent shot the sniggering boys a glare, then returned his attention to Kurt, "—but if you ever get them mixed up, just remember that Jeff's recorded six number one hits on his own, and Nick's only done three."

"Says you," The dark haired boy—most likely Nick—pouted, "It's hard to produce anything when you constantly stick me at the desk." Whirling around to face Jeff—clearly the blond one—Nick leaned in to kiss him smack on the lips, "Not that I'm not proud of you."

Blaine awkwardly cleared his throat at the display of gay affection, while Unique blurted out the one question they were each dying to know, "You guys are all gay?"

David burst into laughter, and he waved his hand at Nick and Jeff who linked their fingers together, "Not all of us. Nick and Jeff are, and I'm bi. Thad's off in Florida with his boyfriend right now, and Wes and Trent are totally straight. It's New York—not the most open place in the United States, but it's getting there. Everyone's different and we're just owning it. But, to make things even, you're all gay, aren't you?"

Narrowing his eyes slightly as Nick wrapped an arm around Jeff's waist lovingly, not even to show Blaine up, and kissing the top of his head, Blaine cleared his throat and glanced down at Kurt wondering if they would ever be so open to fully kiss in public without fear or someone forcing them to for a magazine. Blaine wondered if it would feel strange to be so open with Kurt, to be able to link fingers without being conscious of it, or to simply relax and kiss in a movie theatre without sitting away from the mass of people.

Unique abruptly jabbed a finger into his face, drawing him back to himself, "This one is the only straight one we have. Or… as he likes to call it, being _bi-curious._" Snorting, Unique curled his fingers into air quotations, and Blaine rolled his eyes at the display.

"_I've _been there," Nick laughed from the sidelines, while Jeff snuggled into his chest and smiled warmly.

"Yes, he was there for an entire month." Jeff added playfully, "We called it guy love. Not quite gay love, but not being completely straight, either. We're much happier this way, aren't we, baby?"

"Every man has a little bi-curiosity in him," David winked knowingly at him, "It isn't guy love until the curiosity is put to action. Don't worry, Blaine, this is an open place. We encourage expression here."

Trent frowned in confusion, "No, you don't. David here is a traditionalist. He and Wes refuse to play away from the book—which is why it's so hard for them for us to move. We're going to California this summer to expand the Warblers Recording Studios. It's being turned into some massive corporation and David and Wes hate the idea of anything changing or modifying to be more advanced. Nick, Jeff and I are all for it but we're still not sure about Thad. He calls Switzerland."

Unique's brows furrowed, and he glimpsed around to find Kurt still plopped down on the couch, stroking his twittering bird who had fluffed himself to the size of someone's fist, his chest puffing out. Swinging back around to face the Warblers, Unique discovered David's gaze trailing after where Unique had just been looking, and his face instantly brightened, "A canary! Well, isn't this ironic. What is his name?"

Pavarotti chirped at his fawning attention, his wings flapping and spanning wide to show himself off. Kurt cooed to his tiny bird, holding him up to be examined by Trent, who meandered over and scooped him out of Kurt's fragile grip, "This is Pavarotti, my favorite accessory. He adores attention."

Trent carried the happily trilling bird over to the other Warblers, setting him on the desk where they observed him in awe as scampered in a full circle, fanning his wings the entire time. "He's so well trained," Jeff commented idly, "Did you train him as a show bird?"

"We didn't train him at all," Kurt murmured, enjoying his bird's ecstatic behavior at the gushing compliments and all eyes on him, "I think it's just in his blood to be a show bird. I'm guessing that a long time ago Madonna had a canary and Pavarotti is the offspring. It's the only explanation to his attitude."

"No kidding," David snorted, laughing when Pavarotti scampered over to Blaine and climbed onto his hand. "He's good looking."

"Who's good looking?" muttered another voice, and a well-tanned boy a little shorter than Blaine emerged from the hallway to the left, and his eyes instantly zeroed in on his guests. "Unique and Kurt Hummel? Oh, shoot! Dakota Stanley warned me about you two arriving. And… you." He narrowed his eyes slightly at Blaine, not to be rude but as though trying to remember something, "Blaine, right? Welcome to the Warblers Recording Studio."

David rolled his eyes, "You're a little late for that. Blaine, Kurt, Unique, this is Wes. He claims to run this place. Can we start recording now?"

"Yeah," Wes made a gesture with his hand, backing into the hallway again, "Come on back. Have either of you done this before?"

Blaine shook his head, returning to Kurt to help lift him to his feet then walk him toward where Wes stood. Surprisingly, none of them bothered asking about Kurt's ankle. Kurt could have hidden away in here surrounded by these new friends of his for hours and not cried a single tear. He'd never felt so welcomed in his entire time in New York. Wes waited for Blaine and Kurt to pass him to stride with them toward the recording room, Nick, Jeff, David and Trent right on his heels. "This should be really simple. We'll have you in a separate room; you'll put on headphones, sing into a microphone and watch for me counting you in. Easy enough, right?"

David held his hand out at Blaine suddenly, his brows cocking, "We can take Pavarotti until you're done. He might chirp during the song. Don't worry, we'll go easy on him. So… What song did you choose?"

"Baby, It's Cold Outside." Blaine handed Pavarotti to David, the bird surprisingly calm despite his separation from Blaine and Kurt. "We didn't pick the song, Vogue did… but Kurt likes it."

Kurt managed a wry smile, "It's a personal favorite. Can we go with the classic version, though—with the pianos? I'm much more of a classical person, not that I can't appreciate techno. That's more up Blaine's alley, though."

Blaine's mouth fell open and his neck flushed, "It is _not_. Me and Puck used to listen to Van Halen all the time."

Grinning up at Blaine, Kurt playfully kissed his jaw, "I've seen your iPod and I found absolutely no signs of Van Halen _anywhere._ The closest thing I saw to rock was Billy Joel. The rest was Destiny's Child, Neon Trees, Hey Monday, Rod Stewart, a few of Michael Jackson and I _think_ I saw Katy Perry in there. You are a pop and disco fanatic, Blaine Anderson, just admit it."

Jeff snickered under her breath, "Own it, Blaine. Like David said, this is an open place."

The Warblers scuttled into the recording room, and Blaine was about to follow after them when Kurt snagged his sleeve, holding him back. Still hugging Kurt to his chest to avoid his lover tumbling over, Blaine's eyes shot down to Kurt's flushed face and he blinked as Kurt nuzzled his lips against his ear, his fingers playing with Blaine's collar. Had there not been other people waiting for them in another room, Blaine might have had Kurt pinned to the wall at this point. Kurt's voice purred seductively into his ear, and he avoiding shuddering, "If we're being completely honest, there is another of those illegal ways that I sort of want to try."

Kurt's hand slid to Blaine's ribcages, his fingers kneading into Blaine's skin, and his tongue poked into the shell of Blaine's ear. "I want you to sing that Rod Stewart song… to me. While we're… in bed. Please? I want to hear you sing it."

Blaine swallowed down the lack of saliva in his mouth, and his eyes flicked to Kurt's sincere expression. His mind flashed back briefly to the day he'd met Kurt, of startling alive at his bold entrance and being instantly taken with how beautiful Kurt appeared. He had seemed almost other worldly to Blaine, his beauty mind boggling to Blaine. And it had been in those first few seconds of spotting Kurt Hummel that Blaine decided the new kid in his class would be his. Somehow, whether he wanted to call it fate, luck or his own doing—although he preferred the latter, just for his own masculine pride, he'd managed to do it. Now he only had the challenge of keeping it that way.

But would he ever refuse Kurt pleading him to sing Do Ya Think I'm Sexy by Rod Stewart in his ear while he nailed him mercilessly to the bed and Kurt screamed and writhed under him?

_What idiot would ever do that, _Blaine thought to himself with a brief smirk, only to wipe it away at the reminder of Kurt's promised celibacy to any man who wasn't him. Seeing as no man would ever really have the option to refuse or accept Kurt, Blaine's selfish, vixen grin only widened that he would be the only man to ever hear that question out of Kurt's mouth. And he assured himself that he'd be one hell of an idiot to refuse an offer like that.

* * *

"Kurt, here's where you'll be singing," Wes gestured to a microphone about a foot away from Blaine's, "We have you positioned at microphone two, and Blaine, you'll be at one. David, set us up at sixteen bits. We'll want to be doing stereo."

While David played with a bar on the Touch Panel, Blaine leaned slightly over to glance at the buttons and switches offered to him, then pressed down on one. In seconds a light flashed on the humming Touch Panel, and _Stereo_ flashed across the screen. Wes' eyes flashed to Blaine, who returned to his position of holding Kurt with both arms, and he barked, "How did you know which button to push? I thought you said you hadn't done this before. Learning this equipment isn't easy."

Blaine shrugged a limp shoulder, "It's not that difficult. Last summer my dad brought me into his work a lot and he taught me about nearly every machine that had a motor or was run by electricity. I'm Richard Anderson's son, and you've probably heard that he owns his own recording studio."

Wes wagged a finger at him, "This all makes sense, then! I knew you looked familiar. So you know how to run a recording studio? You wouldn't… be interested in working at one this summer… would you? We're about to move out to California and the producer of our business is getting ready to retire. If you could take over with your father's name involved, our business would take off. You would probably have to study for a year just to get full rights to becoming our producer, but it would have perks. We usually make about forty thousand per hit and twenty thousand per CD recorded under our name, and the six of us have each split it up so we get about thirty thousand a month, and with you taking over as producer," Wes' eyes tilted toward the ceiling and he counted off a few numbers, "On a good month you could be making up to eighty thousand. And with relocating to California and our recording studio expanding, that could draw in a bonus of one hundred thousand a year. I know numbers and money don't mean a lot to you since your dad's one of the richest men in the entire United States, but you could buy yourself a second mansion with the kind of money you'd be bringing in."

Before Blaine had a chance to reply, Kurt whispered breathlessly, "But that would mean Blaine would be a billionaire by his thirtieth birthday. And… that he'd have to move to California with you. Right?"

David grinned at Kurt, "Absolutely correct. But what's so bad about California or becoming even more of a billionaire? I've heard that your dad's company is out there, anyway, so this could be convenient for you, Blaine."

Nick plopped down in a spinning chair and yanked Jeff down into his lap, his arms winding around his waist, "But, wait… What'd you mean by Blaine becoming a billionaire by his thirtieth birthday? I thought he already was."

Blaine rubbed the nape of his neck uncomfortably, "I… um… I wasn't anything. My dad was—is—the millionaire and he was going to give me inheritance money when I graduated, but… I got disowned. At the beginning of December. I don't have any money." Glancing through their solemn expressions, Blaine blurted, "I mean, I'm not suffering or anything. I live with Kurt now but… the only money I have is the money that my brother sends me. Um… I really appreciate the offer to take over the company, but I-I can't accept the job. I'm… Ohio bound. I have stuff I need to take care of there. Including Kurt."

The Warblers shared a single look of mutual agreement on something, and one by one they hopped into five different chairs—except for Nick and Jeff, who still shared the same chair. David gestured around him, "You don't have anywhere to be, do you?"

Kurt flicked his eyes unsurely to Unique, who meekly shrugged at him then lowered onto a desk where no papers resided, while Blaine threw himself down in the one remaining chair that should have belonged to Jeff, and he pulled Kurt down in between his legs, smoothing his hair. Kurt leaned over when David passed Pavarotti back to him, and he cupped the tiny, twittering bird in his hands while Blaine rubbed circles into his back with his thumbs. "What is this… about?" Blaine cleared his throat, his eyes flicking in between the smirking faces of the Warblers.

David crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, "This doesn't have to be about anything. I'd just like to let all of you know that I've heard a lot about you. In less than a week you managed to turn New York upside down. We were just wondering if you wanted to stay here for a few hours. If you're trying to avoid the media, the best time to go out in public is around five. That's about the time that the mass of people go home from work, and even though everyone's out and about they're too exhausted to notice much except going home to dinner. It's simple math."

Kurt blinked in surprise, "But why would you try helping us? The rumors about me have been vicious."

Trent spread his hands innocently, "And that's just what they are—rumors. We never believed any of them about you. A lot of people don't. But the few people who do are just spreading them for money purposes or to stir something up because they're bored."

"It's all very contradictive," Wes put in, "What with the governor and his son writing in the media that you're just a prude, then you show up in a hospital from sexual abuse? If anything I would be blaming Shane Hastings for any sexual abuse towards you. When he was fourteen he got drunk and practically molested this one girl. The rumors about you aren't matching up and magazines are just too stupid and self-serving to realize that they're not making any sense."

Exactly," Jeff added softly, his brows cocking, "One magazine even had a picture of you and Blaine on it and the caption said _Scandal or Lies?_ You'd be amazed how many people either don't care to read rumors in magazines because they've wearied of them or are on your side. You've made peace with too many people for them to turn on you. I guess that's the good thing about having friends who love you rather than enemies who fear you. Less people will believe or spread nasty things about you. We've all been through what you're going through."

Wes smirked and shrugged, "A long time ago I got accused of cheating on my girlfriend for hugging my sister. Don't worry, Kurt, rumors all fade away and the truth will come out one day. If you'd like, we could help you—other than with recording that song. I know a few powerful people and could spread some good words about you."

Kurt licked his lips, "_Merci,_ but… I don't have anything to give you in return."

Trent snorted lowly, "We don't want anything. It's called being kind. But… if you wouldn't mind, could we possibly have a picture of Pavarotti? We could blow it up and hang it front and center. Why call ourselves the Warblers without having a picture of a canary? And maybe you could come back to visit us one day. I know it's not easy with the location differences and all that but—"

"We'd love to," Unique uttered a breath too quickly, startling the Warblers into widening their grins at the show of flattery, "I'm sure I'll have Kurt recording with you guys again—as long as this recording session goes well."

"Speaking of which," Wes hopped from his chair, motioning for Kurt and Blaine to also stand, "We should get started on that. And just so you know, we don't _have_ bad recording sessions."

While Blaine served as Kurt's third leg in hobbling into the sealed off, sound-proof room where Wes muttered something inaudible to everyone in the control room, then positioned a stand at Kurt's microphone for him to lean against, David flicked his eyes back to Unique, "Do you sing at all, Unique? Is that how you got involved with Kurt?"

He briefly returned his eyes to where Kurt was giggling helplessly as Blaine pretended to bang his head to a silent, heavy metal rhythm, and Wes patted Blaine on the shoulder muttering something that only sent Kurt into further hysterics, his cheeks bright and eyes dancing. Blaine suddenly pushed his heavy, thick hair off his forehead then leaned over to wrap an arm around Kurt's waist, murmuring something to him to which Pavarotti, who Kurt had perched on his shoulder, bobbed in reply to.

Realizing that David was still eyeing him and good-naturedly awaiting an answer, Unique inhaled sharply and tore his gaze from the beautiful Kurt to David, who he had to admit that despite lacking any features that resembled anything about Kurt, he reminded Unique of a handsome, soap opera star. He wasn't exactly the front of a magazine cover beautiful like Kurt, or even really beautiful, but he didn't belong unnoticed, either. The term that Stanley might use to describe him probably lay around the vicinity of a plain jane. Unique zeroed in on him and crossed his legs, half-aware of when Wes slipped back out of the isolation room with a twittering and cleaning Pavarotti tucked in his hands. "Um… no. Actually, I'm a co-manager of the Vogue from France—which you probably knew—and two years ago Kurt walked in asking to model for the company and said he had some designer ideas and Dakota Stanley practically fell in love with him at first glance. He put me in charge of everything that Kurt did and we became best friends. Since then I pretty much do everything with Kurt—even singing, when it has nothing to do with fashion."

David's eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned forward, "But you sing, don't you?"

Unique licked his lips, eyeing his lap because he couldn't stand to meet David's eye. No one had ever really spent so long observing just him. Whenever Kurt—or Blaine, for that matter—entered the room with him, all eyes instantly fell to them. Nobody truly understood Kurt's beauty or what it was about him that made him so other worldly, which drew in their curiosity to simply stare and study him trying to decode why he appeared so different from the rest of them, and Blaine just had a very demanding presence. No one ever wanted to tear their eyes from Blaine because of his calculating eyes, and his immediate opinions of anyone and everything. Everyone wanted on his good side, and if they had a feeling that with his instant judgments of people he categorized them as threats, all hell would break loose in trying to earn their way to Blaine's good side.

Suddenly, before their ephemeral and pointless conversation could continue, Wes' voice pierced their air and they glanced over to find him meeting Kurt's blue gaze through the glass, "Kurt, I'm going to count you in. Blaine, I'll count you in after him. Okay, we're on in three…" Flicking his eyes to the clock counting down until the microphones clicked on, Wes held up two fingers, then one and pointed to Kurt.

Almost effortlessly, Kurt's angelic voice purred through the air in a tone to match the seductive music streaming through the background, and moments later Blaine's silky voice twined into Kurt's magically, the perfect harmony in a duet. Inside the isolation room Kurt's blue gaze drifted over to Blaine, and the two of them smirked flirtatiously, as though in on some kind of inside joke no one else could understand.

"Kid's got a pair of lungs on him," Trent commented idly from his chair, kicking his foot to the beat of the music.

"Kurt?" Jeff's brows shot up with his suggestion.

"Both of them," Nick admitted for Trent, "They sound good together. Unique, did you say you know where Kurt discovered Blaine? Or did you discover him?"

Unique rubbed his fingers over his collar, watching as Pavarotti bobbed up and down to the song drifting out of the stereo, "Kurt says Blaine's had two years of vocal lessons, but I don't think he's known him longer than a few months. They go to school together."

"Huh," Wes rubbed his jaw knowingly, "I don't think Blaine has any musical history, actually. I've worked with the Anderson family before and Blaine would have had the connections to get himself a record deal. What other stuff is he involved in? Richard claims that he did football for a long time—I think he started that in middle school."

"He admitted to that," Unique pointed out, "but he said he quit to focus on Kurt for a while. Have any of you heard why Blaine got disowned? I feel bad for asking him to his face. It seems like a touchy subject for him."

"I saw an interview with Richard Anderson," Jeff stated flatly, "around the beginning of December. And my sister is a co-star of Cooper's, and she's good friends with Alicia who's a bigger gossip than Paris Hilton. Richard mentioned something about Blaine disobeying him one too many times, and then Alicia told Chanelle that she's met Kurt and that Coop said that pretty much everything Blaine does is for Kurt in the long run."

Nick frowned at Jeff, fondly stroking a vein on the side of his neck, "Isn't Alicia anorexic, though? And she had a lot of mental problems? How can we trust her word?"

"Yes and yes," Jeff replied immediately, "Well… she did. When she first got pregnant she was scared that Coop would leave her but now that she knows Coop wants the baby she's calmed down. She wasn't trying to be anorexic or anxious, either. I guess she just got so scared she lost her appetite and secluded herself from everyone. She apparently really wants the baby. She's forcing herself to give up the baby to Blaine for a while."

Trent choked on his own air, and he slapped himself in the chest, "Blaine's gonna be the baby daddy? He doesn't seem that nurturing, though."

"Does he even like kids?" Nick draped an arm over Jeff's shoulder, and Jeff reached up to grasp onto him with his fingertips.

"I think Blaine could be very nurturing," Jeff countered them, "I mean, think about it… It's always the ones they least expect to be the best dads. I know he seems cold but Alicia said that Coop told her that Blaine uses his distance as a protection mode. Maybe he just feels threatened by people old enough to judge him. He could be very good with babies. He seems protective and gentle with Kurt."

Trent glowered at him, "That's because Kurt looks like an eleven year old milk-maid. No one can be threatened by that."

"He does not!" Nick whipped around to face the isolation room again, and he winced, "Okay, maybe a little. But don't tell him or Blaine that. Can you imagine getting one of Blaine's fists in your face?"

David solemnly rubbed his jaw with a frown, "I don't want to imagine, actually. He looks like he can kick someone's ass for being three feet shorter than the average person."

Unique helplessly snickered at the jab to Blaine's height—or lack of it, while Jeff sighed and held the peace, "He's barely shorter than me or Nick. Come on, let's not be rude."

"Lighten up," Trent snorted, "You know we're kidding."

Jeff stiffened his spine, his jaw clenching in stubbornness, "I don't find it funny at all. Now hush, I think they're finished singing."

Each head whipped around to discover Blaine returning to Kurt's side, his arm looping around his waist and drawing him against his side. Like nothing had ever happened and they hadn't just blown everyone away with their vocals—when the majority of the audience wasn't distracted by their own bickering—Blaine kicked the door open and flicked his eyes to Wes, "Did that work?"

To cover up for everyone else's cheeky jabs at them, Jeff raised his hands high in the air and clapped lightly for them, "That sounded amazing! Wes, did it all record okay?"

"Pushover," Trent coughed under his breath, earning the snickering of Unique.

Wes ignored their childlike immaturity, "It worked great. I'm going to download this and send it over to Stanley. Blaine, I was wondering if we could talk… in private. Just for a few minutes."

Blaine waited to reply to Wes—who had alerted everyone in the room into silence as they pondered over what Wes could want from Blaine—until he settled Kurt into his chair and assured that Pavarotti had been rightfully placed in his gentle hands. He whipped around and arched a brow at Wes, the latter tilting his head slightly toward the isolation room, "Um… yeah. Sure, I guess."

"Great," Wes narrowed his eyes slightly at his co-workers, "I'll only be in the isolation room so you know I can see everything you're doing." He led the way into the isolation room, waiting until Blaine entered with him to seal the door shut behind him, which blocked out the sound of someone cackling over Pavarotti doing something they clearly found hilarious. Wes put his money on Trent, though. "Blaine, I'd like to start out by pointing out that you're seriously talented. And I know you haven't had any singing lessons before. Your voice is too raw. Vocal lessons suck all the heart out of the voice."

Blaine sighed heavily, leaning against a wall and crossing his straining arms over his thick chest, "I know I sound amateur. I get that. You want to do another take of Baby, It's Cold Outside with Kurt alone? I'm fine with that—"

"No, you're not amateur." Wes frowned in concern, "Amateurs are the people who perform for money on the streets or in the subways. They don't have real focus and even though they might have dreams they're not willing to walk to where they want to go and say to the person they need to get places that they're talented. Instead they settle for hoping that cash and people walking past them who enjoy their music will get them somewhere, but they're just chasing circles. Kurt's being doing this for eight years and he knows where his voice can go. He's discovered every little corner of it. You barely know your voice."

"There's not much to it," Blaine admitted softly, a fascination with the floor overtaking him, "I'm just a tenor. There are a million other male voices like mine."

"Yes, and that's why you're lucky," Wes reminded him, and Blaine's brows furrowed at him, "You may think that Kurt is an amazing singer and everything—and he is—but there are very few falsetto males out there and even fewer songs that fit Kurt's voice. You have millions of choices of songs to sing. Kurt's selections are so narrow it'd be almost impossible for him to make a CD of covers of other songs. The lowest he can go is a high tenor. Any lower than that and it starts to force him to push out the notes and then it just gets messy from there. I get that you said you wanted to stay in Ohio, but I don't think you understand that you're not meant to stay here. I think that you should consider my earlier offer—of working here. We could even get you started with an album. You wouldn't have to make any of your own songs. We could let you practice with other people's songs, and that will help you expand and learn your voice inside and out. I think you're suited for… Train, Maroon 5, even Katy Perry—you're very mainstream."

Blaine screwed up his face, "I am?" Suddenly, he shook his head and took a step back, "No. I told you, I can't do this. I want to focus on my personal life right now. Kurt needs me with him and my brother's expecting a baby with his girlfriend that I'm supposed to raise for the next three years of my life. I can't have dreams right now."

"I'm not saying right now," Wes searched his back pocket for his wallet, then stuck a card into Blaine's hands, "When you feel ready, I want you to call me and I'll record you. I could make your name big."

"What if I don't want a big name?" Blaine snapped, slouching again, "I'm just a Lima loser. I'm not getting out of there."

Wes couldn't fight the smirk flirting with the corners of his lips, "You say that and you're standing in a recording studio in New York City? I think you're out of there right now. Besides, don't say you're just a Lima loser. I think you're forgetting that Kurt was born there, too, and he got out. You just need a confidence boost. You've been carrying so much weight on your shoulders and busying yourself satisfying so many other people you don't know a thing about yourself, do you? I've met a million other artists just like you. You'll get out of this one day."

Blaine rolled his eyes, peeling himself from the wall, "Tell me when that day comes. Oh, and… I'm not trying to satisfy anyone. Don't tell me the person I am." He popped the door open and skidded out of it, mentally swearing that all the while he thought he'd found normal people who understood that he was just Kurt's foil and wasn't actually considering being anything except a Lima loser, they only wanted to tell him different.

After all, hoping and dreaming were things he'd never allow himself to do. Because the pain of being torn down and rejected cost too high of a price. Why let them install false imaginings in his head that he'd go anywhere one day? Sinking into the background sounded easiest. He could just be the teenage baby daddy watching the love of his life from a distance, supporting Kurt from a continent away. That was what he wanted, right?

Well… at least he could convince himself he wanted that. If that was what everyone else expected of him, why fight it? He'd only end up disappointing himself. And he doubted that he could take yet another disappointment without breaking down and calling it quits—quits in everything that life offered him, not just his dreams. Even though he refused to subject himself to his own dreams, he could at least have reality. It was just as painful, but unlike his dreams, that couldn't be avoided.

* * *

Kurt dotted his bottom lashes with a smudge of Mac Earthline just to finish off his choice of a Vince black, knee-length, turtleneck sweater-dress with a pair of Jimmy Choo leggings tucked under a pair of Burak Uyan Suede Slingback booties. Setting his eyeliner aside, Kurt scooted his two pins toward him, one of them featuring a hippopotamus and the other a crystal and ruby microphone. "Unique," he murmured to the person beside him, considering how both options might appear on his black on black array. "Which brooch do you think would look better?"

After a moment of holding both up to his sweater and not receiving a reply from Unique, Kurt twisted around to discover Unique ignoring his makeup kit, his fingers flying over his phone's keyboard. Furrowing his brows, Kurt leaned over slightly, "Who are you texting?"

Unique snapped his phone shut to block his texts from Kurt, "Um… David."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly, and before Unique could stop him he snatched his phone out of his grip, "You mean David from the Warblers? I thought I saw you two snuggling up together," Giggling lightly, Kurt flipped open his phone and searched through his text messages, reading one aloud, "Are you an astronaut? Because your smile is out of this world." Gasping at the flirtatiousness of the text, Kurt's eyes snapped to Unique's guilt-ridden face, "You like David! I knew there was something going on, Unique! You got nervous every time he walked in the room."

When the phone buzzed against his palm, Kurt alertly flipped it open and clicked on the newest text, also reading that one aloud, "I am pretty sure you were Cleopatra in another life. You've got a great asp." His eyes flickered back to Unique, "What does he mean by that? What on earth is an _asp?_"

"Kurt!" Unique lunged for his phone, his cheeks heating up, "Don't say that out loud! Blaine is just in that other room and do you know how hard he'll kick my ass if he hears us discussing great asps? I wouldn't have an ass anymore!"

Kurt frowned helplessly, "But what is an _asp?_ Did he mean… a rear end instead?"

Unique's face contorted, "You mean _ass?_ Kurt, I still don't understand why you won't just curse. It'd be so much easier to understand you. No, he didn't misspell it." Checking out the half cracked door to assure that Blaine was busy tying on his tie and paying no attention to them to allow them their personal gossiping and makeover time, Unique leaned over and whispered in Kurt's ear, "He means… You know… a viper. An asp is a viper. Please connect the dots because I don't want to have this conversation with you."

Studying Kurt's blank expression as his mind drove itself a hundred miles an hour attempting to understand what Unique seemed to get so easily, Unique rolled his eyes and nodded towards his lap, and within milliseconds Kurt's eyes lit up into fiery, blue globes. It was in that one second of Kurt first realizing the underlying meaning that Unique comprehended he'd wiped out what little innocence Kurt had left in him. Kurt clapped his hand over his mouth, nearly hopping from his seat until he remembered that although his sprain was mostly healed he'd still teeter over at any abrupt movement. "He doesn't mean…" Kurt shook his head, purely stunned.

Unique nodded briefly, "Yes. And I want you to keep this quiet. I know you gossip everything to Blaine but please, _please_ keep this a secret for me. I don't know where this is going, Kurt, but, yes, I think I like this guy."

Kurt swiftly nodded his head, "Of course I will. I just—Unique, this is _amazing!_ You might get your second boyfriend! Why don't you seem happy about this? I think David was a fantastic person. He seemed sweet and polite."

"He _was,_" Unique snapped at him, startling Kurt into slapping the smile off his face. "I just… don't want to talk about this with anyone—especially you. I think I'm going to finish my makeup in my room." Jerking to his feet, Unique ignored Kurt's plea for him to stay and stormed out of the room just as Blaine worked his way into the doorway.

Blaine arched his brows at Unique's dramatic exit, then flicked his eyes to Kurt and jabbed his thumb in Unique's general direction, "Is… he okay? He hasn't spoken much since we left the Warblers."

Kurt shook his head at Blaine, slumping down in his chair. "I don't know what's going on anymore. It's like… everyone is getting mad at me and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I'm scared to death of going to this party because I know they'll just hate me and avoid me like the plague. I wanted to spend my New Year's Eve at home with my dad and you and Pavarotti and I'm tired of being here. I just want to go home, Blaine."

Blaine's face went stricken as Kurt's eyes, which he'd worked for a good ten minutes on for the perfect shadowy appearance, glazed over with fresh tears, despite how many he'd shed over the trip already. "Oh, baby…" Blaine breathed out, padding over to Kurt's side and kneeling down by his chair. Slipping his fingers through Kurt's, Blaine shook his head, "Honey, _no,_ no one hates you. I know this has been so hard on you. You're being so brave, Kurt. Look at me, baby. Look at me." Waiting until Kurt demurely turned his face in Blaine's direction, Blaine leaned in and smoothed away a glass tear from Kurt's cheek with the pad of his thumb, "Kurt… I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do and I wish I did. I'm sure that Unique has his own problems and he just lashed out, and you heard the Warblers. They said that not a lot of people believed the rumors. We're gonna convince them tonight that you're perfect and beautiful and wonderful and sexy and it'll all be over. We can go home. I love you, Kurt."

Kurt's lips trembled when Blaine tilted his head to kiss his forehead, resting his lips there longer than he should have, "I love you, Blaine."

Blaine drew Kurt's small body into his arms and rested him against his pounding heart, his fingers smoothing Kurt's hair despite the work he'd put into it for the past hour, "Shh… Everything's gonna be okay, angel."

"I'm tired of fighting," Kurt whispered weakly, "I'm tired of not understanding what I did wrong."

Nudging Kurt's face up to meet his glassy, blue gaze, Blaine brushed his finger over the bottom of Kurt's lashes to force the last of his tears to leak, and he leaned down to kiss the tiny, salty droplets. "Tonight you're going to be an angel, Kurt. And everyone will see that they had you completely wrong. I want you to smile tonight. This is our first New Year's Eve together. The first of many."

"You're sure?"

A weary smile curved Blaine's lips, and he brushed his lips against Kurt's in more of bolstering warmth than one of desire—even though Blaine would be a liar if he admitted that there was absolutely none of that in any kiss he shared with Kurt. "I'm absolutely sure. There's no doubt in my mind, Kurt Hummel. I told you… I love you. And I'll never let you go, no matter what happens."

* * *

Flashing lights blinded the last of Kurt's vision—the line of sight not yet reached by his watery tears. Maybe this was Unique's way of punishing him. Maybe that had been his plan all along, to bring him out into the public at a drunken festival knowing that Kurt would be shunned here. Maybe he'd done something or said something to throw Unique into a rage, and this entire thing—including his tainted reputation—was a long plot he'd drawn out just to torture Kurt. After all, Unique hadn't so much as acknowledged him since he stormed out of the hotel room, and neither had Blaine heard a single word from him. It wasn't like Blaine really cared, though. He took life as it came, and if one of his friends was incensed with him, he simply waited it out and didn't stress over it. Kurt, however, was writhing in fear that his entire life was collapsing around him. The situation didn't seem to be getting any better, as Unique and Stanley had promised. In fact, it appeared to be getting worse by the second, and Kurt was growing more and more wearied of fighting something he didn't stand a chance against changing.

Glimpsing out the window at the billion dollar New Year's Eve party dancing in full swing, Kurt sank down into his seat and wished he could just disappear until midnight. While everyone else was resolving for a better year and wishing for a kiss from his or her boyfriend or girlfriend as soon as the clock struck twelve, Kurt knew more than anything that his new year would be plummeting with a tainted reputation. With his luck and the fact that he consistently struck out lately, he wouldn't even be kissing Blaine at midnight. If his life continued on the downward spiral in which it was headed, he'd be losing Blaine by midnight.

And at that point Kurt would finally realize that his entire life from that point on would be curling up on his bed and sobbing in his pillow. If he was being honest with himself, Blaine was the only thing holding him up from falling.

Pulling around to the front of the classy Hilton hotel where the party was to be observed, the limo purred to a halt and dutifully their nameless and faceless driver stepped out. He marched around the vehicle and popped open the door closest to the building, holding his hand out for each of the silenced girls who knew better than to squeal and squeak over the party in such a tense moment. Unique followed after them, still holding his silence to Kurt and Blaine but making idle conversation with Mercedes until the electrically edgy air overwhelmed even them and they sank into their separate silences for the rest of the trip.

Blaine slid his hand which had been resting around the nape of Kurt's neck and mindlessly massaging to ease the ache to Kurt's lower waist, pulling him toward the door. Kurt hesitated to step out with him and Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder at Kurt, the latter digging his heels into the floor. Not a single bone in his body made him want to step out of the car and Blaine knew it.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered softly, "Come on, baby. It's time to go."

Kurt's refusal didn't budge, and he met Blaine's eye in a distressed plea to take him back to the hotel. Unsure what to do with himself, Kurt sank back into his seat and brought his hand to his hair, suddenly feeling distant from his body. It was like watching his life from a different point-of-view, of seeing a frightened, young singer who had been framed and had his people turned against him, and the only person who still loved him was the one urging him to his final death without a single clue that he was doing Kurt wrong. Blaine thought he could protect him from anything, but Kurt suddenly doubted everything—especially himself. Trusting anyone seemed a difficult task, and looking a decent person in the eye also didn't seem capable of happening anytime soon.

_I've been ruined and destroyed,_ Kurt told himself from another world, where the words played over and over in his head. _And nothing is going to fix me._

Bringing himself back to his own body, Kurt observed the girls bouncing on their heels to keep warm, and the driver impatiently tapping his foot yet remaining solemn for his professional dignity. Unique stared off into the distance, as much of a stranger to Kurt as he'd been in the beginning. Blaine held his hand out for Kurt, and Kurt numbly threw his eyes upon it but felt his body reject any type of movement. Suddenly, Blaine shot the driver a look over his shoulder, "Give us a minute."

He tossed himself back into the seat with Kurt, much to Kurt's surprise, and without another word toward the spluttering driver he slammed the door behind himself and pressed down on the lock button. With a click, Kurt found himself gathered against Blaine's hard chest and his lips occupied by another warm but dry and cracked pair. He attempted pulling away to scold Blaine for his boldness, but the second he parted his lips Blaine's tongue jabbed out and all of Kurt's thoughts, concerns and worries brushed away into the dust. Blaine tore away from him and pressed a series of fiery kisses to his lips, then whispered to him, "For better or worse, Kurt."

Kurt dazedly blinked his eyes and tugged halfway out of Blaine's grip, only to be hugged back tighter, "W-What? Blaine, let me out. People are going to talk."

"That's what they want," Blaine immediately replied, and Kurt frowned at him that maybe even Blaine was just pulling these stunts for the public now. After seeing the hint of Kurt's expression Blaine shook his head, "But this isn't about that, Kurt. This is about you. For better or for worse, in sickness and health, richer or poorer. Those are wedding vows, sweetheart. But they're not just wedding vows. They're promises… and I'm making them to you now, whether we're married or not. I promise, Kurt, to be by your side through all of those things. I know you doubt me sometimes. Like you did just now. But I swear if it takes all of my strength I will protect you. I'm not leaving you tonight. You're going to have me, one way or the other." At Kurt's doubtful expression, Blaine leaned in closer, "You're _not_ tainted, Kurt. You're letting them get into your head. You don't see the people that love you and know that what happened that night was almost rape, not prostitution. This isn't you, Kurt. I know you have fire in you. I want to see you bring that to life, and I want to see you put all of them in their places. Prove to them that you're as beautiful as they believe."

"What if they don't believe me?" Kurt whispered hoarsely, retracting into a protective shell.

"They'll believe you," Blaine stated without room for doubt in his tone, "You convinced me. I thought you were just a pretty face at first. I never knew that your heart would be my favorite feature of yours. Your dad taught you right—something mine never taught me… at least, not the right way. No one pushes the Hummel's around. I've heard him say that to you, and I have a feeling that Burt is where you get your fire from. He would want you to put it to good use."

Kurt tilted his head to one side, peeking past Blaine at the mass of the party, to where a Lady Gaga want-to-be strutted through the doors after checking with a bouncer that she was on the list. But, who knew, that could have been the real Lady Gaga for what this party was worth. He flicked his eyes to Blaine, who hadn't taken his eyes off of him once, and Kurt gently scraped his finger over Blaine's loose collar, "What if this night is a disaster?"

Blaine shrugged a shoulder offhandedly, "We won't know until we try. Kurt… everyone in this party has a secret they would never admit to anyone. It's something that could get them a tainted reputation. Half of them already do have a tainted reputation, but unlike you they've given up trying to fix things. It became them. But you're strong enough to fight back. And I _won't_ leave you alone. You know for a long time my nickname at school was _man-whore?_ Everyone thought I was, and I gave in. I didn't have a reason for fighting back. And soon enough I became a man-whore."

"Why haven't I heard anyone call you that?" Kurt whispered softly, scooting toward Blaine.

"Because now my nickname is the closeted fag," Blaine stated flatly, rolling his eyes, "Look, Kurt, it doesn't matter what my new nickname is or why they came up with it. What I'm trying to tell you is that you're sexy and beautiful and you don't have to take anything from anyone. Call them out. I don't give a damn what anyone says about you. You're not a slut just because they say you are. You were a virgin when we met and if it weren't for me you'd still be a virgin. You understand that, don't you? That no matter what bullshit they want to say about you to be able to bathe themselves in money when the pictures and stories sell, a rumor doesn't make it true. You've helped me before. Now it's my turn to hold your hand through this. I'm going to make damn sure no one ever spreads another rumor about you again."

"How?" Kurt's eyes flicked from Blaine's chest to his determined face, still slightly unconvinced.

"By assuring you that I'll do whatever it takes," Blaine easily replied, brushing his hands down to Kurt's shoulders. "I don't know what I'll have to do, but whatever it is… I'll do it. You ready to go in?"

Kurt nodded hesitantly, clutching down on Blaine's hand as Blaine kicked the door open again, revealing only Unique standing on the other side. Ignoring the fact that Unique was clearly pissed with both of them, Blaine threw a leg out of the limo with Kurt right behind him and briefly acknowledged him, "Where are the girls?"

Unique's eyes darted minutely to Kurt, tracing up and down and stopping at his size two hips. Finally, his eyes flicked to Blaine's face and he cocked a single brow, "They already went inside."

"Great," Blaine stated harshly, touching his hand to Kurt's waist and guiding him toward the door while Kurt clung to his side, avoiding the glaring eyes of those around him. "Oh… Unique? I don't know what the hell is up with you, but don't ever check Kurt out again. Plenty of guys do that already, I don't want to have to kick your ass, too."

"Blaine," Kurt soothed softly, touching Blaine's steel-like chest, "please, don't be upset with him. We don't have a single idea what is wrong with him yet."

Blaine's jaw clenched, but sensing the wandering eyes of their public, Blaine relaxed it and lowered his head slightly, trying not to appear intimidating. Kurt leaned into him and worked a plastered smile onto his face, as though nothing had ever happened. To anyone else the pair appeared just as anyone else at that party, just looking for a few drinks and idle chatting to celebrate the coming new year. If only Kurt could know for sure that he'd be able to keep up the façade for the next two hours.

Even under the heat of the staring eyes and the whispers floating around, Kurt managed to hold himself steady despite the prickling at the nape of his neck and under his eyes. He knew exactly what they were saying, and what they would continue to say for the next two hours. Approaching the bouncer who had a Clay Aiken imposter spinning on his heel and stalking away with disappointment lurking in his gray eyes, Kurt slipped past him and noticed the man lift his head at the sight of Kurt passing by. He narrowed his cat eyes slightly and puckered his lips at Kurt, startling Kurt into stiffening his spine. Noticing Blaine's hand subtly tighten at his waist, Kurt squirmed for air from under Blaine's rock hard grip.

The bouncer spied Kurt dropping his heels in front of him, and with a curt nod toward the door he muttered, "Go on in. You and Monsieur Unique." His eyes flicked to Blaine next, and they squinted, "Name?"

Blaine slid his entire arm around Kurt's waist, rubbing up and down on his hip, "Anderson. I'm with Kurt."

Flipping through his list of names, the bouncer glanced back up at Blaine, then down to his list of names, "Cooper or Blaine?"

Blaine furrowed his brows, "Blaine. My brother is on that list?"

The bouncer ignored Blaine's question in favor of nudging them through the door and turning to the next group of celebrities who Kurt thought might have been the director and producer of Grey's Anatomy. Once through the glass and gold doors, Kurt's mouth dropped at the interior of the hotel. A twenty by twenty foot, pure gold chandelier swung down over their heads, lit with over a thousand lights and shimmering against the bold mass of colors from the women's dresses. The men's apparel all revolved around the same backdrop, a gold on black ensemble of either black tuxedos with gold vests and black ties, black tuxes with white vests and gold ties, or some combination of those. Unique, Kurt and Blaine seemed to be the only ones not following the dress code, Unique in a white tux with a purple tie, Kurt in his half-sweater, half-dress ensemble and Blaine with a traditional, loosely fitting black tux with a white vest and black tie. Two of the buttons on his vest were undone, revealing a hint of brown skin and wiry chest hair that Kurt couldn't have complained about if he'd tried.

"Oh, we stick out like a sore thumb," Kurt whispered to Blaine, who appeared to be studying the bored movements of everyone around them, each of their faces giving off that _I-was-born-looking-this-good-and-classy_ appeal.

"This isn't a party," Blaine snorted, eyeing the untouched food bar where three bowls of salads rested and glasses of wines complimented them, "This is like a knitting party for old women." He frowned when Kurt bitterly pinched his elbow, "_What?_ This party is just an excuse for middle aged women who hate their husbands to gossip like a bunch of aging maids."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "What were you expecting? A drunken performance from Ke$ha?"

"Actually…" Blaine paused and bit the inside of his cheek as though in deep thought, "yes. I've been to New Year's Eve parties before and it was a bunch of beer and hooking up." At Kurt's instant glare, Blaine cleared his throat, "But I didn't."

Sighing and choosing to allow Blaine's days of hooking up with the sluts in their school to roll off his shoulders, Kurt linked his arm through Blaine's and their fingers intertwined. "This is Patti LuPone, Blaine. She's nearing her mid-sixties. The only hooking up at this party tonight will be Paris Hilton and her new beau. See, over there." Kurt nodded in Paris' direction, where a middle aged man had her pinned to the wall and her giggling pierced the air softly. "She might even have brought beer with her. You know Paris and her partying. She's like Lindsay Lohan, only richer and classier."

Blaine pretended to have a single clue what Kurt was talking about, and he nodded his head, "Wait… Kurt… what do you think that bouncer meant by asking if I was Cooper or not. Do you think my brother has an invite to this party?"

Kurt blinked his eyes when he discovered Rachel, Mercedes and Tina up against a wall, wriggling to the beat of the classical music as if it was some Avril Lavigne song, "He could have thought you were a poser, Blaine. Your brother's name might not have been on the list, and if you had said Cooper he would have known. I doubt your brother's name was actually on the list. Isn't he preparing for India?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded his head, "At least… I think so. I guess… I just found it a little strange. Kurt… are Mercedes, Tina and Rachel attempting belly rolls or is it just me seeing it?"

Kurt grinned sheepishly, "No, you're not the only one seeing it. But I know what you're going to say so be kind."

Blaine laughed at Kurt's accusing finger stuck in his face, and he gripped onto Kurt's elbows, pulling him against his chest, "Am I so predictable to you that you knew I was going to call them bumbling idiots? You know, half of my insults to them _are_ to save their reputations. They do some stupid stuff and people think they're ridiculous. No, I'm not going to call them bumbling idiots to their faces, sweetheart. I'm just going to claim that I don't know them for the rest of the night."

"Better," Kurt smirked, "At least it's not an insult to their faces. When you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

"Why do you think I'm so quiet at school?" Blaine snorted, and Kurt's mouth fell open in shock.

"You're so mean!" Kurt gasped, holding down his giggles by a mere lip bite, then he narrowed his eyes as an idea of revenge popped into his head. "Wait… so you _don't_ like body rolls… like this?" Swiveling his hips around in an awkward formation since his sweater-dress was far too tight and hip cinching to really move in, Kurt grinned in satisfaction.

Blaine cocked a single brow at him, also willing to play Kurt's game, "No, when you do it, it's hot. But don't do it here. I want to keep your sexy, grinding hips to myself. I think I could make something of your little body roll in bed."

While Kurt flushed and ducked his head down to check if anyone had heard Blaine or spotted him mid-body roll, a friendly voice teased from behind them, "If you two are done flirting and body rolling, come over here and give me a hug."

Kurt popped his head over Blaine's shoulder and his jaw dropped again at the sight of Coop and Alicia standing not a foot away. Both of them looked ultimately healthier than the last time Kurt had seen them, Coop at least an inch taller—or maybe he stood a little straighter—with much fuller cheeks and brighter, bluer eyes. Alicia also looked much better, her cheeks freshly rounded and pink, and her blond hair lighter and bouncier. Her feminine hands caressed her three-months rounded stomach, her baby pink dress that flirted with every curve proclaiming the bump proudly, while Kurt knew of some women who tried to hide baby bumps with empire gowns. Kurt barely noticed a blue stoned ring glinting on her left, ring finger.

Blaine whipped around to face his brother, who held his arms wide, and Blaine suddenly jerked out of Kurt's arms in favor of throwing himself into his brother. Coop grunted and he took a step back to keep from wobbling, but he embraced his brother back just as tightly. While the boys greeted each other with their rough back slapping and man handling, Alicia flicked her delicate eyes to Kurt, her gained weight evident in her all-over changed form. "Um… _Salut?_ I said it right, didn't I?"

Kurt helplessly laughed, taken in by her gentle beauty and loving manner. "_Oui._ I'm impressed. How have you been, Alicia?"

Alicia held her arms out for Kurt, who easily took up the offer and they drew each other in. Finally, they pulled apart and admired each other's outfits, healthy glows and choices of men, "Oh, morning sicknesses aren't getting any better but I feel fantastic. I'm three months in. The baby's developing beautifully. I'm so relieved that Blaine is taking him in. My parents are too tired and wearied to care for a baby, and my own brother is just as big in the movie business as Cooper. This doesn't… affect you and Blaine, does it? Having a baby around? I'd feel awful if my baby tore you two apart."

"No!" Kurt shook his head, "I love children! I plan on raising the baby with Blaine… at least until I leave for France. I'll have about a month with him."

"Oh, good," Alicia breathed in relief, "You seem to be the type to be very good with babies. Would you like to feel him? He's quite the kicker. He likes getting his way."

Kurt blinked hesitantly at her, slowly reaching his hand out and brushing his fingertips against the swell of her stomach. At his minor touch what felt like a foot jabbed at him, and both he and Alicia giggled lightly. "With his amount of kicking I imagine he'll be just like his father—driven, spoiled, an odd sense of humor. I swear, Coop thinks he's the funniest man in the world but he couldn't crack a joke to save his life! Anyway, how are you and Blaine doing? He seems so hard for his age. Is he good to you?"

"Oh, he's very good," Kurt admitted with a nod, "Blaine is just… very unsure how to handle people. His trust has to be earned, but he's actually very humorous. He loves a good laugh, and he's very gentle. He's putting all of his effort into this baby. It seems that everything else is on hold now that he knows he'll be taking care of his nephew. He puts all of his heart into everything he does—well, for the most part. Schoolwork and friends are another story with him."

"I can imagine," Alicia rubbed her stomach again, "Blaine's never been that talkative, and I've never seen him invite a friend over or talk on the phone with anyone. I'm so glad he's staying with you now. Oh, it almost had me in tears when I found out about his father's relationship with him. I had no idea! You seem good for him. He looks so much better. He has some color now, and he's gained some weight. And you look fantastic, too! You always have, and I'm jealous. You make beauty natural."

Kurt burst into laughter, alarming the guys and anyone within a ten feet range of him, "Please, you'd eat your words if you saw how many beauty creams I have! Blaine almost cried the first time he saw me get ready in the morning. I have it set out nice and orderly. A half an hour for my hair on a good day, and an hour on a bad one. And that's just my hair. My face and outfits add at least another two hours onto that. And with Blaine, who takes ten minutes to get ready—" he jabbed a glare in Blaine's direction, and Blaine smirked innocently at him, "—he simply doesn't understand the pains of beauty."

"Neither does Cooper," Alicia admitted with a poignant sigh, "But, Kurt, you _must_ give me a play-by-play plan of what you do to stay _so_ perfect. After this baby comes, I'm going to be dieting like crazy to lose the extra twenty pounds this pregnancy is going to cost me. I'm craving anything sweet right now."

"Of course," Kurt murmured to his newfound, shopping partner, "I used to have an obsession with cheesecake but every time I got an urging I'd just eat a piece of celery and drink a bottle of water instead. The craving went right away."

"You're kidding," Blaine frowned at him, "I didn't know you liked cheese cake. Hell, I could have gotten _that_ for Christmas dessert. At least now I know what to treat you to on Valentine's Day. And I'll make sure you have no celery in the kitchen before I give it to you."

Kurt giggled at Blaine, raising a suggestive brow, "Blaine, I thought you knew how I like to eat my cakes. I love to treat myself to a piece of cheese cake once a year, but you must remember my quirky way of eating them."

Blaine's eyes suddenly flew wide, seconds before a devious grin curved his lips and he crossed his arms over his chest, "Of course I do."

Coop frowned at both of them, "I feel like you two are hinting at something I'm not even going to try to understand, but, you—" he pointed directly at Kurt, "—come here and give your favorite man a hug. I haven't seen you since California and I've missed you like hell."

Kurt giggled and launched himself at Cooper, burying into the warmth and coziness of his chest. Coop laughed throatily and for a brief second he lifted Kurt off the ground, shaking him in his arms. "I've missed you, too, Coop."

Coop set him back down and clasped Kurt's cheeks in his hands, looking him over thoroughly, "My Blaine's been good to you, hasn't he?"

Blaine gently tugged Kurt from Coop's friendly hold, teasing his brother right back, "I treat him like gold and I think you're mistaken because _I'm _his favorite man."

"Don't argue with him," Alicia grinned and tucked herself into Coop's arms, "He'll go on forever about being everyone's favorite everything."

"Who can deny this face?" Coop framed his face with his hands, sending each of them into a riot of laughter until Blaine leaned back on his heels to measure his brother up.

"Coop… What are you doing here? I thought you were getting ready for India. Not that I'm complaining. You _are_ my favorite brother." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's shoulders from behind, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt reached up to touch his fingertips to Blaine's muscular, taut arms, just as curious as Blaine.

Coop threw his hands in the air despite the glaring of Rihanna passing him by who almost got smacked by a flying hand, "Now you're catching on! Actually, we came here just for you. We knew you were in New York, so I canceled a meeting with my agent, called up LuPone, found out you'd be here and we came here! I wanted to see you on New Year's Eve, Blainey, but Alicia and I also have some amazing news for you."

As though on cue, Alicia held her left hand out and squealed, "We're getting married! Next year—in the summer. Probably toward August. It's partially to celebrate Coop's first movie being over, but we're flying back in from India for a week, and then we'll be honeymooning in France once Coop is all finished with his movies! To visit you, Kurt. Wouldn't it be amazing if we saw each other in France for a month? And maybe Blaine could fly in, too. Oh, I'm beyond overjoyed!"

"You inspired my proposal, Kurt," Coop patted Kurt on the arm, "Well, actually, both of you did. You both seemed so happy and romantic on the beach in California and I overheard Blaine saying something about sweeping you off your feet if you ever had a honeymoon. So that's what I did."

"He swept me off my feet and proposed to me!" Alicia giggled girlishly, bouncing up and down on her toes. "And, Kurt, Cooper and I were wondering if you'd like to design our wedding. All by yourself. Everything from the color scheme to the cake. And I would be honored to have you as my wingman. I'd rather have you than a maid of honor any day. Will you accept?"

Coop nudged Blaine slightly, jerking him out of his stunned trance, "And, Blaine, you'll be my best man, won't you? I wouldn't have anyone else do it."

While Kurt's eyes glazed over with watery tears and his cheeks flushed as his lips grew into what felt like the type of smile a person worried might get stuck on his face permanently, Blaine released Kurt from his grip and drew Coop into a one armed hug that Coop instantly returned, the two brothers growing tearful themselves at how quickly things seemed to be changing for Coop—and for the better. "Of course, Coop. Congrats. You have an amazing fiancée who I'd be more than happy to take as my sister-in-law."

"Oh, Blaine," Alicia touched her hands fragilely to her chest, blinking away her own set of tears so her mascara wouldn't smear, "I love you and absolutely want you as my brother-in-law."

"What about you, Kurt?" Coop grinned at Kurt, who swiftly wiped his eyes.

Blaine smiled helplessly, "Baby, are you crying?"

Kurt fanned his face sheepishly to shed some air on his burning cheeks and the tip of his upturned nose, "Yes," he admitted softly, with a giggle at the end of his word to clip it off slightly, "I'm sorry. I always cry at anything romantic, and a wedding proposal is the _most_ romantic thing ever. No one ever invites me to their weddings just because I always cry a river at them."

Blaine chuckled lowly, peeling himself from Cooper's side and pulling Kurt against his chest. "I love you so much," he whispered in Kurt's ear, pressing a kiss to the spot, "You're an absolute angel."

Kurt pressed his face into Blaine's chest, whispering softly, "You think I can handle designing a wedding all on my own?"

"Coop's not picky," Blaine's nose wrinkled with a comical smirk, "For his fifth birthday all he wanted was a football signed by the San Diego Chargers."

"A… A football team?" Kurt murmured in disbelief, "I'd get laughed at if I asked to meet a football team or get _anything_ from them. The only people I get to meet and do things with are singers. And then the football team might laugh at me because the only thing I know about football is that there is no excuse for stirrup pants! None at all! Did he get the signature like he wanted?"

"He's lucky my dad didn't buy him the football team," Blaine snorted, "Of course he did, baby. That's why Alicia calls him spoiled so much. If he asked for it, my dad would buy him his own island. And no football team would ever laugh at you, sweetheart. You're too precious to laugh at. I don't think you could design their wedding, babe. I _know_ you could do it because you'd find some way through all hell to design their wedding just because you're you. Besides, you're a bargain hunter and that Rue La La website I found save on my laptop sells everything—everything from shoes to wedding arches. I felt like buying something on it, having it mailed to our house and not telling you I found the website just to freak you out."

Kurt purred at the sound of _our house_ coming out of Blaine's lips, until he realized that the entire sentence had a negative appeal against him, "A comment like that will get you socks for your birthday and nothing else."

Blaine shook his head with a broad grin, "Well, knowing you they'd be stylish socks in the long run. I can deal with that. Actually, I found this pair on Rue La La that I _really_ admired so if you're going to get me socks get me those ones."

"Are you two debating about socks?" Cooper questioned in awe behind them, unsure whether to be concerned or amused.

"I find it cute," Alicia murmured softly, "We need to bicker like that at home! They say that hearing the parents bicker in good nature is great for a baby! He'll find it funny, and a humorous baby is always good. The way they giggle is _adorable!_"

Sensing that he and Kurt had started a trend over a pair of socks on Rue La La, Blaine burst into hearty laughter that Kurt quickly sank into after him, the two of them bundling each other in the other's arms as Coop and Alicia joined them in their laughter.

Alicia wiped her leaking eyes with her fingers, "This is ridiculous! I hardly know what we're even laughing about but you two bickering over socks is the funniest thing I've seen in so long! Blaine, I've never seen you act this way before! Kurt, you've done him miracles!"

"Either that or he's been drinking," Coop added with a snort, earning a playful slug in the arm from Blaine. "Hey!" he tossed his hands up, "No punching the superstar! You'll bruise me."

"Oh, yes, you're so delicate," Alicia rolled her eyes, then turned her smile onto Kurt, "So what do you say? Our wedding wouldn't be the same without you."

"Yes!" Kurt hopped up and down, clapping the tips of his fingers together, "Yes! A million times, yes! I'll make your wedding the wedding of the year! I've had years of training. My Power Rangers got married and divorced in so many different combinations they were like Fleetwood Mac."

Alicia shook her head with a vague appearance in her starry, glittery eyes, "I wish I knew what you were saying sometimes; you have way too much cultural experience for me. Who's Fleetwood Mac?"

"I agree. I'm just as lost." Coop added while eyeing a piece of chicken a man carried by him, "And I have _got_ to find out where he found that piece of chicken. _Excusez-moi,_ ladies and gents."

"Fine, but, hurry back," Alicia called after him, returning her gaze to Kurt. "Sorry, but what's Fleetwood Mac?"

"Fleetwood Mac is a rock band," Blaine put in for Kurt, "They had a lot of different members while they played, and there's only one original guy left."

Alicia continued to stare blankly at them, "Kurt, I didn't know you listened to rock bands. You seem so… Broadway. And, Blaine, you've never liked rock music."

"I knew it!" Kurt jabbed his finger giddily at Blaine, "And I never listened to Fleetwood Mac. My dad did when I was little and it tainted my ears. Blaine knows about them because my dad brought them up during a dinner discussion about how big his dreams were during his prime. Apparently my dad's biggest dream was to sing Bloodbuzz Ohio at a national football game."

"Wait…" Alicia waved her hands through the air as though to clear it, "Blaine, did you tell Kurt you like rock music? What a blazing lie that is! I remember one night when you had that Puckerman boy over for a sleepover and he blasted Van Halen so you threatened to sleep in your car if he didn't shut it off. Kurt, I've dated Cooper since Blaine was in seventh grade and I clearly remember hearing him singing Teenage Dream by Katy Perry in his bedroom when it first came out. Blaine, you've _never_ liked rock."

Blaine grimaced at Alicia, "Okay, I told Coop I'd be happy to have you as a sister-in-law. Don't make me regret it. There's only so much of a beating a man's dignity can take."

"I think it's adorable," Kurt admitted, poking Pavarotti's chest to stir him and he instantly hopped onto Kurt's finger from his shoulder. "Blaine, you shouldn't have been afraid to tell me that. I happen to love Katy Perry."

Alicia zeroed in on Kurt's twittering bird, and she briefly flailed her hands, "Oh, my gosh, I didn't know that he was alive! I so thought he was fake! Have you always had a bird, Kurt?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, perching Pavarotti on Blaine's shoulder to stretch his own shoulder out, "His name is Pavarotti. We got him on Christmas Eve. Would you like to pet him? He isn't aggressive at all."

"Pet what?" muttered another voice, and Blaine glanced over to find Cooper approaching them with a chicken leg sunken between his teeth. He groaned around it, "Best chicken ever."

Pavarotti twittered at Cooper curiously, cocking his head and patting his feet against Blaine's tux. Alicia gasped as she realized exactly where Pavarotti was staring, and she swiftly ripped the chicken leg out of Coop's mouth and apologetically handed it over to a passing servant who grimaced at her and then down at the half chewed leg. "Cooper! We have a bird present! You cannot be eating a chicken right now!"

All while trying not to pout at his loss, Coop swung around to face Blaine and his mouth fell open, "Whoa! I thought that was an accessory! It's real?"

"_It_ is a _he,_" Blaine scolded Coop, who had forced Pavarotti's chest to puff up at the thought of being called an _it,_ and he cupped the tiny bird in his hands for show-and-tell, "This is Pavarotti. I got him for Kurt as…" he narrowed his eyes, "kind of a Christmas present."

"Well, why isn't he flying?" Coop muttered while Alicia stroked the top of his head and cooed to the flapping bird, "Birds never like being coddled."

"His wing is permanently broken," Kurt admitted sorrowfully, "And he doesn't run because I think he just likes Blaine and I. He's very well trained and I think he likes being coddled because his last owner abused him. He'll take all the attention and love he can get."

"He's so cute," Alicia gushed over the chirping bird, still patting his feet against Blaine's palm. "I've never seen a bird who doesn't nip before. Who could ever abuse this sweet baby?"

"Oh, great," Coop laughed, also stroking his fingers down Pavarotti's back, "Now she'll want me to get her a canary."

"That's a perfect idea!" Alicia squealed, "I wasn't thinking of that at all but if you insist! We could go down to a pet shop soon and have Pavarotti come along. He could find himself a friend! We'd have all the more reason to visit each other, then! Do you think Pavarotti would like having another bird around?"

"Um…" Blaine rubbed the nape of his neck, "he doesn't respond well to aggression or being insulted, but that's all we know that he doesn't like. If you guys could find a bird who suits his needs, I guess that'd be okay. Are you being serious about this?"

"Yes!" Alicia blurted, eyeing Cooper as though to tell him that no matter what he said, her decision would stand, "We'd keep him or her for ourselves and then have Pavarotti and our bird have play dates whenever we visit, as long as you two wouldn't mind babysitting when we need it."

"I love it!" Kurt shrieked with her, and before Blaine and Coop could level-headedly think through things and consider the pros and cons of introducing another bird to Pavarotti, simply having another bird or what might happen if Pavarotti and the new bird would suddenly dislike each other and possibly fight, or even if the other bird couldn't be out of a cage like Pavarotti without flying away or trying to run, they had about two seconds after Kurt squealed out a reply that Alicia and Kurt clasped hands and bounced up and down.

Blaine and Coop didn't have a single idea of what to do at that point, because it was pretty obvious that no matter what they said to the moody pregnant girl and the stubborn, spontaneous Kurt, they didn't stand a chance.

Kurt suddenly whirled around to Blaine, "Blaine, isn't this idea fabulous? They do say that canaries respond better with mates or friends. Can you imagine if we got lucky and Pavarotti had himself his own little romance? That'd be adorable!" He spun toward Alicia, adding in what appeared to be a private thing between them because he slightly lowered his voice, "I see baby canaries in our future."

"Let's think names, Kurt," Alicia put in seriously, "I'm thinking that I like Giselle."

"Ooh, exotic. I like the boldness." Kurt placed his hands on his hips, only to have Alicia link arms with him.

"I can't think names on an empty stomach, and the baby's hungry." She stated flatly, turning in the direction of the food bar while caressing her well abused and kicked at stomach, "I'll eat whatever you're going to. It'll give me an idea of how to keep my figure. We'll be back, boys. We have business to discuss."

Watching their two dates strut away giggling over names, Blaine glanced over at his brother when Coop slung an arm around his shoulder. "Whatever they see in their future, I want nothing to do with it."

"I agree," Coop sighed heavily, "We already have one baby to care for. We don't need five more."

"Is that the amount of eggs a canary can lay?" Blaine threw a stunned expression at Coop, who shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know. I think it's somewhere around there. That's a normal amount for birds, right? Maybe canaries in captivity can't breed or something." Coop offered to Blaine, whose eyes snapped down to Pavarotti, his beady eyes staring up at them in curiosity.

"You don't want a woman, do you?" Blaine questioned the blinking canary, "Not all men have to be breed. You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Did you just tell a bird to be gay?" Coop blurted a tone too loudly, and he flushed when a woman snapped her head over her shoulder to glare at him.

"I don't know!" Blaine whisper-shouted back at him, "Maybe Pavarotti _is_ gay! If he is, he won't have to have babies."

Coop wagged his finger at Blaine, "Oh, I see. You're sly. Who knows, maybe this whacked idea is just temporary and it'll wear off. They can't be serious, can they?"

Blaine frowned at Coop, "I'm not sure. When Kurt gets an idea in his head it's usually never in vain."

"Alicia's the same way," Coop confessed mournfully, "We might just end up being birdy in-laws."

Both of them shot their eyes down to Pavarotti, who once again blinked helplessly, twittering and flapping as he frantically tried to discover what they were saying and why they were talking about him.

* * *

Kurt's face shone with the same whiteness of the moonlight as he gazed up into the starry night, watching for any signs of a shooting star. He wasn't sure if he needed a wish, as he'd stayed at the party for just about two hours and was still alive… and, for once, completely eased. A night of dancing to classical music in Blaine's arms and giggling at his silly jokes about how he still would have preferred a drunken Ke$ha. A night of plotting names for baby birds he still wasn't even sure were to come. And a night of feeling like he finally had the family he'd always wanted, a brother in Coop, a beautiful sister in Alicia and the soul mate people usually dreamed of, the knight in shining armor that authors could only write stories about because he was too perfect even be human, in Blaine. He couldn't have been happier, and before he could blink it away a tear of joy and ecstasy that he had a life people fantasized about rolled down his cheek.

Hearing people gather at the front of the building where a disco ball was to be dropped in less than five minutes, Kurt glimpsed over his shoulder at the clearing out lobby room and his breath shot out of his lungs at the sight of a shadowy figure standing in the doorway. He whirled around in a defense mode and glanced past the figure in hopes of catching sight of Blaine, who he'd last seen drinking wine and chatting with his brother at one of the tables bunched against the wall. Sensing Kurt's anxiousness, the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light, revealing himself to be Blaine. "Sorry," Blaine whispered, as though to not disturb the quiet around them except for the hushed purr of crickets hiding in the grass. "I didn't mean to scare you. What are you doing out here by yourself? I thought you of all people would want to see a disco ball dropping."

"I've watched too many New Year's Eve shows." Kurt disclosed with a soft sigh, turning back to the sky and leaning against the railing overlooking a beautiful garden blowing side to side in the breeze. "Disco balls dropping lost their appeal by the time I was ten years old. I like it out here better. It gave me time to think."

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, and Blaine pressed kisses all along Kurt's spine, until he reached Kurt's neck which he hummed gently into and started swaying them back and forth. His backside brushed against Blaine's crotch with every movement, but for once neither of them was in heat. Blaine admitted mentally that he still found the constant touch arousing, but just holding Kurt in his arms was just as appealing. "What were you thinking about, angel? That my family is absolutely insane?"

Kurt helplessly laughed and pushed back against Blaine to wedged himself deeper against his chest, "Well, that. And I was thinking about you. Do you believe in soul mates, Blaine?"

Blaine's wondering and curiosity was evident in the tone of his voice, and he pressed a kiss to the side of Kurt's neck, "Well… I don't know. I've never really thought about soul mates. I might, but I'm not really sure. People divorce too much, and some people stay single their entire lives. And I doubt some people could even have soul mates. Think about Becky—the girl who's always with Sue. She tried to date Artie once, and gave Finn a candy heart for Valentine's Day, but no one's ever returned her affection and no one probably ever will. It's kind of depressing, thinking that you were born to never be held romantically in another person's arms. Even _I_ would probably go insane knowing that no one would ever love me like that. I don't know, cases like that make me doubt soul mates. Why do you bring it up, sweetheart?"

"I don't know," Kurt bit down on his lip, "You're probably right, but do you think… two people can be meant for each other?"

"Maybe," Blaine easily replied, "What has you wondering about all of this?"

Kurt spun around in Blaine's grip so their chests were pressed together, and he placed his hands at Blaine's shoulders, "Do you think we might be meant for each other, Blaine? Sometimes I think you're too perfect for me, or too perfect to even exist. You treat me so well and I hardly deserve it. I hardly deserve _you._"

Blaine flicked his eyes toward the door when the low rumble of people counting down from thirty pierced their peaceful surroundings, and he gazed into Kurt's round, blue eyes, "I've thought the same of you, Kurt." Blaine whispered to his lover, "You're far too beautiful to be anything more than a picture in a fairytale. You deserve me and more."

"Blaine…" Kurt cupped Blaine's cheek in his hand, stroking the strong cheekbone under the pad of his finger, "when you said you weren't my prince yesterday… you were entirely wrong. If I'm going to be a picture in a fairytale, you _must_ be my prince. And I love you more than anything, whether you're out, closeted, bi-curious or even straight. I love you because you're you, and if you want to love me while you're straight… I'll be perfectly okay with that. But I won't be willing to share you with any women. I just want you in whatever way you'll give yourself to me."

"As if I could ever want anyone other than you," Blaine smirked, hearing the voices in the distance reach fifteen, "Kurt, you'll always be my angel. And you'll never have to share me, because no one could even begin to compare with you. You know… what I said earlier about the hooking up parties… those days are behind me. I could never hook up with anyone else, not when making love to you is so sweet and perfect. You are the love of my life, Kurt. And I'll always love you, even if the first time you come back from France is when you're sixty years old and you still look so beautiful. You'll still have your pretty, blue eyes." Blaine's thumb stroked under Kurt's right eye, and a tear wobbled over the edge and splashed onto Blaine's nail. "You'll never stop looking beautiful to me, whether you're eighteen or eighty, Kurt. You have to know that when you step off that plane that I'll be the one lifting you off the last step."

Kurt's eyes glazed over for the final time that night, and he caressed Blaine's face just as the voices hit ten, "I'll always love you, Blaine."

"I'll always love you, Kurt," Blaine whispered weakly, his voice hoarse from the tears glassing over his own eyes, and the two of them began murmuring with the voices as soon as they hit five. Both of them smiled with that same, ear-to-ear, _I'm so happy I could die_ grin, and they bundled each other so tightly together that neither could breathe. Suddenly, a pop like the world had exploded deafened both of them, and a screaming chorus of Happy New Year's caused them to smash their lips together and kiss in hunger and undeniable love as they started their new year together, just the two of them in a different place from the world.

Lifting Kurt off of his feet to deepen the kiss, Blaine tore his lips from Kurt's and nibbled down the front of his neck, to which Kurt moaned lowly and wrapped his legs around Blaine's waist. Suddenly, a whistle toy blew in their ears, and they tore apart to eye Coop and Alicia smothered in confetti and holding a twittering Pavarotti with a piece of confetti on his head. Ignoring that he'd just caught his brother in a passionate kiss with Kurt, Coop blew the whistle again and shouted, "Happy New Year!" Suddenly opening his hands, he chucked a pile of sweaty confetti at Blaine and Kurt, both of them bursting into laughter and throwing the pieces they caught right back at him.

"Pavarotti loved the disco ball!" Alicia rambled, handing Pavarotti over to a giggling Kurt after Blaine set him back down, and Kurt brushed the confetti from his bobbing head, then she drew Kurt into a tight hug, "Happy New Year, Kurt! I'll keep in touch with you about our bird! We have to head out now. Coop's got an early meeting tomorrow and we'll be driving all night."

"I wish you could stay!" Kurt confided honestly, hugging her back just as tightly as Coop enveloped Blaine in a bear hug. "I'm so glad I got to spend New Year's Eve with you two. Call me soon!"

"Come here, you wild partier," Coop peeled himself from Blaine, who in turn pulled Alicia into his arms lovingly, and he picked Kurt up off the ground he hugged him so tightly. Almost breaking Kurt in half, Coop set him back down and looked him directly in the eye, "You be good. If anything ever happens to you I'll beat my brother's ass that he let something happen to you. And no one wants that. Are you sure you guys don't want to come with us? It could be fun hanging out in hotels and crashing them like rock stars, and it'd be a lot of road trip. We'd be bored without you."

"Thanks, Coop," Blaine smiled politely, returning to wrapping his arm around Kurt's waist, "But we have something to do tonight." Flicking his eyes to Kurt and narrowing them suggestively with a cocked brow, he earned Kurt's light giggle and nod.

"Okay, you're missing out," Coop held his hands up innocently, "We've gotta get going. I love you both and stay out of trouble. It was great hanging with you guys."

"You too, Coop. I'll call you tomorrow." Blaine called after him as he headed toward the door, then with a sudden afterthought he hollered out his brother's name much to Kurt's surprise. Coop spun around briefly, slightly walking backwards and avoiding bumping into people as they poured back in with hopes of drinking until morning hours since they'd already soberly seen the ball drop and now had the privilege of drinking themselves into a stupor. "Cooper? I love you." Blaine called out, and his brother smirked with a nod.

"Love you, too, Blaine," he shouted back, turning the corner with Alicia and disappearing out of their sights.

"That was sweet, Blaine," he admitted softly, snuggling into Blaine's side, "So how do you want to start out the New Year? What do you want to do?"

"_I_," Blaine laughed, pulling Kurt back against him, "have a million ideas. And the first thousand include a bed and you naked—and maybe some cake." He flushed slightly, unable to handle the beauty of Kurt's shimmering, excited eyes, "You want to go back to the hotel and get started? It's not like we have anymore photo shoots to wake up at five in the morning for."

"I'd be delighted. Besides, you know me better than that. I'd cancel a meeting with anyone if you asked to hold me in your arms all night long." Kurt giggled and linked his arm through Blaine's, knowing that the rest of the night was theirs for the taking. "Oh," he murmured as another thought took over him, and stretched on his toes to kiss Blaine's cheek. "Happy New Year, my love. And Happy New Year to you, too, Pavarotti!" Kurt stroked his twittering bird, still nipping at the cascading confetti left in their wake.

"Why didn't you mention that I had a say in what meetings we went to during this trip? If I had known that you and I would have spent a lot more time in the bedroom. It could have been a practice honeymoon!" Blaine grinned down at him, drawing him tighter against his side, "But… Happy New Year, Kurt. Best one I've ever had." Returning the kiss to Kurt's cheek who mentally agreed about this being his best New Year's ever, Blaine released all of his exhaustion and tension from this trip in one relieved sigh as he swept Kurt back inside in order to head to their limo and drive back to the hotel and remembered that by noon tomorrow he'd be going home. And there was nothing bad about that. Especially since Kurt was going to be there with him.

They had all the power in the world in each other's arms, and when Blaine held Kurt against his chest, no one could touch them or what they had.


	30. Gives You Hell

Author's note: This chapter was impossibly hard to write. I deleted so many scenes out of it and changed a lot of it so hopefully all of you like it :) These next few chapters will revolve more around Blaine, but Kurt and Pavarotti will always by my other two main characters. There have been rumors about a Klaine break up or a Klaine wedding on the show so just to keep down the concern my story will not be affected by any happenings on the show. It will continue as I've planned. School is starting up in two weeks so there will be shorter chapters and less frequent updates, but I will still try to update at least every Friday. That's all I have to say about this chapter so read and review! Hope all of you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: No me regocijo propia. Apparently that means that I don't own Glee in Spanish :P

* * *

Blaine slammed his locker shut and the sound caused him to wince like a bullet had shot through his head. He didn't have a damn clue how Kurt could possibly be so perky after a whole night of sex; maybe it was that nap right after they'd gotten home from the airport that had rested him up, while Blaine had spent a few hours working out the tension in his body by fixing up a few cars with Burt. He liked Burt's style at work, playing old, country music softly in the background and not speaking unless something important popped in his head or he was asking Blaine for a tool or suggesting breaking for water. Time in the shop was also time for Blaine to think, and it gave Blaine plenty of moments to really sit back and admire his relationship with Kurt. He'd never held steady this long with anyone before, and he and Kurt had one of the healthiest relationships at McKinley.

They talked about whatever was on their minds, and they had a fine line between an obsessive relationship to one where they could always hang out but still acknowledge other people. They hardly ever fought, and they were very open about being physical. They agreed on most things about sex, and they always talked each other through things, never pushing each other one step too far. And they also acceded on one very important thing—that marriage could have very well been in their future. Of course, Blaine wanted Kurt to go out and have his fun first, to live up his dream and see what he wanted to, but they both knew they'd come back to each other one day. Over all, Blaine really had nothing to complain about. Their families loved each other—for the most part. He and Burt got along like there was nothing to it, and Coop and Alicia clearly adored Kurt. Besides, when Blaine had mentioned Coop to Burt, Burt's reply had been along the lines of, _"Oh. I've seen his commercials. Kid does good commercials."_ And Blaine took that as a good sign, because when he'd mentioned the comment to Kurt but also put in about the lack of emotion in Burt's voice when he'd said it, Kurt had clapped and bounced up and down, stating, _"My dad likes him! That's perfect, then. Now our families can get along."_ Apparently Burt's version of joyful was as simple as a mere compliment, so Blaine assumed that Kurt had gotten his enthusiasm from his mom.

So, perfect. Now their families liked each other. Well… except for Blaine's parents, but he didn't see why that should affect anything, as they were totally out of the picture. At remembering his dad calling Kurt a slut and then having other douche bags in New York do the same, Blaine shoved his history book into his Louis Vuitton bag a little too firmly. Swinging it over one shoulder as he started towards glee club, Blaine glanced around him and thought how other worldly this all seemed, being back in McKinley. He suddenly seemed too out of place in these halls, when before he had ruled them. With Azimio on a week-long suspension and Karofsky's power source gone so he was officially a loner who could do nothing to the other kids, at least no one was threatening him with a Slushie, and suddenly it was like he barely existed. He'd walked through the doors with Kurt that morning and while Kurt had sunken into his friends giddily, Blaine had been left alone except as Kurt's tag-along while he, Mercedes and Rachel went on and on about how insane New York was and how for once it was good to be back.

They'd sat through English together, trying not to be bored by passing flirty notes all throughout and holding hands through class with absolutely no one noticing them, but by the next class he and Kurt had to split up so Blaine texted Kurt through that class instead, still just a ghost among his classmates. By third period he'd gotten a text from Kurt explaining how Rachel wanted to meet up early at her locker to show Kurt the pictures she'd taken in New York, despite Kurt having gone to all of those places with her. Which, of course, left Blaine to walk alone.

Dreading the Rachel Berry Show yet to come in glee club, where Rachel immediately popped out of her seat before Schuester even finished talking, and belted out a few notes before being booed down by her classmates and Mr. Schue, Blaine pulled his phone from his pocket and fired off a text to Kurt, _Heading down now. Meet you in there. I'll save you a seat in the back. Love you._

Kurt replied with a _Yay! Love you, too_, so Blaine figured that specific conversation was over and stuffed his phone back in his bag. Bringing his head back up after he'd started walking, Blaine jumped back when he nearly mauled Puckerman down. Puck leaned casually against a locker a few down from Blaine and Kurt's—Kurt's locker hadn't started out by Blaine's, but after some bribery Blaine managed the switch, and the two had even started sharing locker space.

Finn stood casually beside Puck, eyeing anywhere except Blaine as though embarrassed by something, but Puck simply texted on his phone despite the fact that their own lockers were on the other wing of the school. Puck abruptly dropped his phone into his pocket, adjusting the sunglasses atop his head and eyeballing Blaine up and down. "Nice outfit," he smirked, referring to Blaine's gray, Armani zip-up sweater, his Armani, dark gray slacks, paired with Kurt's choice of Jimmy Choo, earth brown loafers and to finish the look off, a cherry red bowtie had been tied around his pressed, white dress shirt.

Rolling his eyes, Blaine started to sneak past them, "I don't need to take this."

"No, wait, Blaine," Puck called after him, snatching down on his arm, "We're not here to be asses."

"Well, you've made a great start, haven't you?" Blaine snapped at him, his eyes narrowing, "I don't give a damn what you have to say to me, Puckerman—"

"Blaine!" Puck held his hands up innocently, "Whoa, cool it. I'm not Karofsky. Sure, I've wanted to toss you into dumpsters before, but this is different, okay, man?"

Finn sighed heavily, "What Puck is trying to say is… We were worried for a long time you'd hurt Kurt and the New Directions, but things have changed. And he wasn't being sarcastic about your outfit, either. A bunch of people are talking about it, and they say you look really good. Well—not us. But… I mean, you do, but we're not, you know, trying to hit on you—"

"Okay, I think he gets it," Puck glowered at Finn, "We're saying you look good in the most un-gay way as possible. Listen, Blaine, Kurt talked to us this morning, and he told us that he's having a sleepover with Mercedes, Tina and Rachel this Friday. And he wanted to know if us glee guys wanted to meet at your—the Hummel—house and spend the night with you. And we want to let you know that we're in. We haven't talked to the other glee guys, but I'm sure the answer will be the same. Want us to bring anything specific because I was thinking video games and the bubblies."

Blaine's brows shot up, "The bubblies?"

"Yeah," Finn confirmed, "it's his way of saying root beer."

For the first time in the whole conversation Blaine peeled back his guard just a little, "This Friday?"

"Yeah," Finn shrugged casually, "So… you in? I could bring over my PlayStation and then Puck has loads of video games. He even has Dance, Dance Revolution."

"And it's totally badass," Puck defended himself, "I mean, have you seen those animated girls grinding on the screen? They might be animated but if you stick Lauren Zizes' face on one of them, it's epic imagination porn. I'm telling you, a guy can get off on that game."

"If you say so," Finn snorted, "So, Blaine… How was New York? We heard that some bad stuff went down. Rachel's been talking about it all morning, and she said how depressing it was. Everything good?"

_The media hasn't hit Ohio,_ Blaine thought as a side note, thinking that maybe there was hope for his and Kurt's futures at McKinley. Then again, two weeks hadn't even started to pass, and once those magazines started to publish, who knew what the hell would happen from there. "Oh," Blaine managed a soft smirk, "Yeah, everything's good. We just got some shitty seats at a Broadway show and it was one of Rachel's favorites. She's been complaining since."

"It must have been Funny Girl," Finn accepted his answer without much suspicion, "Damn, no wonder she's been so down. I better go suggest we do some Funny Girl songs in glee to Mr. Schue or else Rachel won't put out for a week. She thinks depression brings down our sex. Man, Puck, you're lucky your girl puts out whenever."

"Are you kidding?" Puck slapped his shoulder, "Zizes won't even let me kiss her yet. She says I have to work for it or some shit like that."

"I wasn't talking about Zizes," Finn scoffed, starting off toward glee club once the final bell rang. "I was talking about Quinn. You know, your real girlfriend?"

Puck groaned, falling into step beside Finn, "I might break it off with Quinn. I don't know. She expects me to be loyal to her because she has Beth, but you know Puckzilla! He likes a variety. Besides, Quinn's kind of nuts and obsessive."

Blaine remained by his locker for a moment longer, wondering if he should follow them or if they would find it strange to be seen with him. Instead he delved his hand into his bag again and searched for his phone, discovering a new text from Kurt sent about two minutes ago, _Where are you? I'm worried. Is everything okay?_

Flipping open the keyboard, Blaine typed out a reply when Puck called over his shoulder, "Come on, Blaine. Final bell. We have stuff to discuss for this party in glee club." He turned his attention to Finn, directing this comment to him, "I have big plans for this party. Anyone's who's a someone will be there, and anyone who isn't will officially be a Lima loser for the rest of the year. I'm thinking dancing girls and disco balls."

_Yeah, as if Kurt would allow me anywhere near dancing strippers,_ Blaine thought with a smirk, sending out a comforting reply to Kurt that he'd be there in a minute and hesitantly walked up to Puck and Finn, who were only two feet ahead of him. Suddenly, both Finn and Puck raised their arms swiftly, and Blaine whipped up his hands in defense of blocking out any punches, when they draped their arms over his shoulders. Stiffening up like a board, Blaine's eyes snapped between the two of them in paranoia that the worst prank he'd ever be put through in his whole high school career was about to take place, but as though everything was normal Puck returned to his phone, and Finn concentrated on not banging into anyone or anything with his abnormal height that easily served as a disadvantage for his clumsy feet.

It was almost like being back in eighth grade again, before Karofsky had ever intruded on their friendship and chosen to take Blaine under his wing as yet another bully. Had any of that ever happened? Had Karofsky never moved into the district? He didn't feel any different than he had that morning, but was time travel supposed to make him feel different? Glancing between both Puck and Finn, he saw no changes in how they looked from their senior bodies. He turned his attention back to the hallway, where the last few cliques who always made sure to piss their teachers off with their daily tardiness strolled past them with their slow, _I'm-too-cool-for-class_ saunters and ignored the fact that Puck and Finn had Blaine under their arms. _Am I the only one not freaked out by this?_ Blaine wondered anxiously to himself, relieved when they finally reached the glee club door and the pressure in his tensed up lungs released. _No pranks yet, and Kurt's behind that door. You should be safe, Blaine._

Was this how it felt to be on the other end of the bullying, knowing that something was coming but being unable to avoid it? Suddenly seeing everything from the points-of-view of his former victims, of struggling so hard against the prank but knowing he couldn't make a sound before the prank actually happened because teachers wouldn't understand that he was about to be pranked and his predators would just bench-press their ways out of it, Blaine froze up as a thousand images of those kids he had pranked and apparently forgotten about flashed through his mind. Those round, doe eyes gazing up at him as he grinned wickedly down at him with a Slushie in his hand, those innocent kids who had done absolutely nothing to him, and then there was that one kid where he'd taken things way too far.

The one he'd punched in the face for no reason other than his anger toward himself.

And then there was Kurt, the first kid he'd ever denied Slusheing, and the last he would ever attempt to Slushie. _I was a monster to those kids,_ Blaine told himself, realizing for the first time how many kids had transferred because of him, how many cowered down at the sight of him, and how he'd almost done that to Kurt. The thought of ever hurting Kurt—physically or mentally—destroyed him. He didn't understand how men could beat their wives and then stand to kiss their bruises at dinner time like nothing had ever happened. If he ever saw resentment in Kurt's eyes toward him… Hell, he wouldn't have a single clue what to do. He'd probably go insane, first of all. And then things would go downhill from there.

"Blaine?" Finn questioned to him, "Everything cool? You look pale."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, leaning partially on Finn for support as Puck kicked the door open to find Schue already mid-pep talk with the glee club. As usual, the glee club sat in their seats by clique, Santana and Brittany in front with their hands clasped between them, a bitter appearance on Santana's face and a blank but weary one on Brittany's. Quinn perched in a chair off to her own with her face toward her lap, while Artie had his wheel chair perched on the opposite side of the room as them, Mike and Tina grouped together right behind him. Mercedes sat to Mike's right, with Sam beside her, and behind them were Kurt and Rachel, Kurt with an empty space on his right side as promised. Kurt appeared to be explaining the difference between wool and suede to Rachel, as he continued gesturing to his white sweater vest and then to her kangaroo sweater, but glanced up when the door parted and an abrupt smile perked at his lips.

He waved Blaine over to him, so Blaine snuck to his seat with Finn and Puck behind him. Blaine dropped down beside of Kurt, while Finn lowered onto Rachel's left side, and Puck lowered beside of Sam, earning Quinn's insistent glare he paid good attention to ignoring.

"Okay," Schuester muttered, waving his hands in welcome, "Glad you're all back safe from break. Now… we need to focus our immediate attention on Born This Way, and while thinking about Regionals. Anyone have any suggestions?"

While a few hands popped up—Rachel's being the first—Blaine leaned over to Kurt, "Sweetheart, Finn and Puck just approached me. I thought we agreed on talking about this sleepover."

Kurt grinned at him, placing his hand on Blaine's thigh and squeezing lightly, "But the boys seem so pumped up for it. And I knew you'd never bring it up hoping I'd forget about it. I'm not doing this to be mean. I want you to have your friends back, Blaine. I mean, look at Finn and Puck. They had their arms around you when you came in. They're willing to be friends again, Blaine. You're not so mad, are you?"

Blaine shook his head, leaning over to kiss Kurt's cheek when it appeared that no one was watching, "No, baby. I just… wasn't expecting it. Thanks for helping me, Kurt. I just hope they're not all too pissed at me to forgive me, or they do something horrendous at the sleepover in revenge. I don't know any boys in here except Finn and Puck. And I've Slushied every single one of them."

"They'll forgive you, Blaine," Kurt whispered in a promise, his blue eyes knowing and sincere, "I love you. Thank you for accepting."

"Blaine, Kurt," Schuester barked, directing his gaze at them. "Do either of you have ideas? Kurt, have you been inspired at all by New York?"

"Have I ever," Kurt enthusiastically wriggled, and Blaine grinned in awe of his excitable lover, "I know this is a bit risky but this show has to have a little more panache. I was thinking… vintage. Disco. I know a lot of you don't like it but I personally find it spunky. And we need to find songs that mean something to us. This might be a little bold, but Nicki Minaj's Starships has little to no meaning. In fact, I find it comparable to gibberish. We need to do Michael Jackson, Bee Gees—"

"Um, sorry to pop your bubble of gayness, Prancy Smurf—oh, wait, actually, I'm totally not," Santana snapped, "but Michael Jackson songs are almost impossible to do. No one can compare to the King of Pop."

"Blaine can!" Kurt blurted, shocking Blaine into wishing he was a shriveled up piece of dust just floating around somewhere, "Blaine loves disco music and knows Michael Jackson. Mr. Schuester, if anyone deserves a solo at Regionals, it's Blaine."

"Is that true, Blaine?" Mr. Schuester furrowed his brows in a comical way at Blaine, "You like disco?"

Blaine slumped down in his seat, realizing that everyone was alertly watching him for an answer. Finally, he nodded his head. "Well," Schuester clapped his hands, "Point taken, Kurt. These are some great ideas, everyone. Tomorrow we're going to take a vote and see which idea wins out. The rest of this period I want everyone thinking of songs in these specific categories that we could do. Jot them down on the white board as you think of them. Kurt, Blaine, can I see you guys up here?"

While Kurt alertly straightened his spine and Mr. Schue turned back to organizing one of his many music folders—hopefully a sign of relaxation that meant Kurt and Blaine weren't getting detentions—beside of Kurt Rachel also stiffened and snapped her bulging eyes between Kurt and Blaine. As insecurity overwhelmed her, she continued studying Kurt and her hand snapped up, her voice blurting out before Schuester even had a chance to acknowledge her, "Mr. Schuester, in the midst of all this babble I'm sure my suggestion for me to do Don't Rain on My Parade at Regionals was lost on you. But… I think you understand that song is meant for _my_ vocals. Right? Because that's _my_ song—I've been doing it since I was young, and any other people doing it—" her eyes flicked to Kurt and Blaine briefly, the pupils blown out of proportion, "—would mess it up because they don't understand the meaning behind it, or they don't know the beat and—"

From across the room Santana snorted, "I thought that was the song you auditioned with at NYADA and choked on."

Schuester rolled his eyes, not bothering to even bat down Santana, "Yes, Rachel, I did hear you. But, like the rest of your classmates, you're going to have to wait for the vote to tell what songs we'll be doing at Regionals. If you don't get the solo, just remember what The Rolling Stones sang—You Can't Always Get What You Want. " Lifting his head from his papers, Schuester waved Kurt and Blaine down. "Come on, you two aren't in trouble. I just want to talk to you."

Kurt's eyes drifted to Blaine's emotionless face, and Blaine nodded his head as he slipped his fingers through Kurt's. Helping Kurt to his feet, Blaine guided his lover past the last row of chairs and nudged him up to Schue. Kurt clasped his hands in front of him while Blaine placed his hand at Kurt's waist, his tongue pressed against his cheek in case Schuester blurted out something accusing and he said something he shouldn't. Schuester suddenly handed a folder over to Blaine, then one to Kurt in a gentler manner. Finally, he nodded toward his office and flickered his eyes between them and the suspecting glee club whispering about how Schue was probably utterly praising Kurt and giving Kurt and Blaine all of the solos again, and that the vote was rigged.

"Let's talk in my office," Before Kurt or Blaine could reject or ask about the folders, Schuester strode over to the office door and perched it open. Still as lost as ever, Blaine helplessly escorted Kurt to the door and lowered him into the chair closest the door after nudging him inside, then threw himself down in the one right beside it and scooted it slightly closer. Kurt uncomfortably crossed his legs—something he always did when he was uneasy—and turned to Blaine who clasped his hand in his and tried to soothe him by twiddling with his fingers.

Schuester plopped down in the chair on the opposite side after closing the door firmly behind them with Rachel's beady eyes watching his every move, then offered a friendly smile to Kurt, "Don't look like that, Kurt. I swear that neither of you are in trouble. This time I actually want your help."

Blaine cocked an assuming brow, "With Regionals?"

Schuester nonchalantly shrugged, "Well, yes… that. But also…" he pointed to the folders, "those. Kurt, you're new here but, Blaine, you know this school inside out. Including the students. What I'm asking of you… It won't be easy."

"Are you asking me to do something student related?" Blaine bit out, squeezing Kurt's limp hand, "Sorry, but I gave up messing with the students. What have they ever done for me?"

Kurt quietly added his own comment as he opened the folder for himself and sheets of Michael Jackson's Bad slipped slightly out, "Bad? Mr. Schuester, I don't understand. Are we going to be telling the rest of the students that… we're bad?"

"No," Schuester crossed and uncrossed his legs, "Well… in a way, yes. Listen, Figgins has been getting more and more football and glee kids in his office this year—when we're only a little more than three months in—than he has any other year for the whole nine months. Glee kids are constantly in and out of the nurse's office with Slushie in their eyes, and football players are continuously getting suspensions, detentions, and, of course, Blaine got kicked off. And he said… if we don't take the reins and start doing something, he's going to ban both football and glee club from school next year. I know that doesn't affect you, but a lot of hopeful ninth graders were really looking forward to glee club next year. And both Beiste and I would both lose our jobs if glee and football were canceled."

Blaine leaned back in his chair, "So what? There's no way to take the reins of the football players. They all have the minds of wild dogs. All they care about is food, exercise, fighting, killing and sex."

Schuester frowned at Blaine, then shook his head as though to clear it, "And that's where you two step in. Figgins is demanding that for two weeks we step into each other's shoes and see things from the other's perspective or else glee and football will, without a doubt, be canceled."

"What does that mean?" Kurt whispered, still eyeing the music.

"That means that for one week the football players will come to glee club and perform with us—and we'll be performing this song with them. Bad. Figgins never gave a care of _what_ we sang with them, as long as we sing something, and there's no way I'd make you guys more vulnerable than you already are by singing something like… Don't Go Breaking My Heart or The Climb—as much as Rachel wants to do those." He added that last with a minor grimace, then switched back onto the subject, "The thing is, if we do a song like that in front of the football team and own it, they might back off."

"What about the second week?" Kurt arched his brows.

"That's the week I worry about," Schuester pointed out, "Figgins is requiring everyone—_everyone_—to play in the football game in two weeks."

Blaine's face screwed up, the side of him once attached to football stirring alive, "Are you kidding? That's the football game to get into the Finals. If we let the glee girls in that football game, the football team is going to get their asses screwed."

"He's right, Mr. Schuester," Kurt added from under his breath, "Besides, the Cheerios need to perform for that game and Coach Sylvester doesn't take any excuses."

"Figgins, Beiste and I will all deal with Sue later," Schuester countered grimly, his eyes haunted at just the idea of defying Sue, "What you two need to worry about… is being in charge. Kurt, this glee club has more respect for you than they do me, so you'll be taking care of them. And, Blaine, never tell Figgins I used any language in front of a student, but you could probably kick anyone in the ass if you wanted. You know the football team. You're a very demanding and bold person, you can manage to control them. Therefore, on the first week we're doing this—glee club week—Kurt, you'll be in charge of Booty Camp."

Kurt's face blanched, "Booty Camp?"

At the sound of the word slipping from Kurt's mouth, Blaine covered his hand with his palm to hide his low snicker. Finally, he managed to recover himself and gestured with his hand, "Mr. Schuester… I'm asking this in all seriousness… What in all hell is _Booty_ Camp?"

Also willing to match Blaine's sarcasm with his own, Schuester muttered flatly, "It's where you learn to shake your booty, Blaine; that's what it is. If I'm not mistaken, you could use it yourself, Blaine. Whenever you're dancing your hips and spine stiffen up. You could actually be very flexible if you loosened up a little."

Kurt grinned broadly, wriggling in his seat, "Oh, he's very flexible."

Blaine shot Kurt an anxious look to hush, and Schuester chose to ignore that comment in favor of clearing his throat and mentioning, "Kurt, you're by far my most flexible student. And the best dancer. No challenge is too big for you. Which means I'm giving you four days to teach thirty football players the choreography to Bad. Who knows, this could be good for the glee kids, too. I know Finn could use some help. You can teach them however you want or feel comfortable with, and wherever you like. You'll also be in charge of teaching them to sing it, but that should be pretty effortless for you."

"Which means I'll be doing…?" Blaine cocked his brows, rubbing his temples.

"You'll be in charge of the second week of Booty Camp." Schuester explained, "The football part of it. You'll need to teach the kids in glee club who can't play football how to. Find their strengths, who they work best with, where they should be playing the field. And teach the real football team how to get along with the new members."

"Yeah, like that'll work," Blaine doubtfully snorted, then shook his head at Schue, "So… you want me to look like the ass who has to tell Artie he can't play?"

"Artie's going to play," Schue confirmed, "He'd be great defense. All of my New Direction kids are going to be playing at one point or another. We'll put them in and bring them out depending on who else is on the field and how well they can play with those people. Blaine, I even made a deal with Figgins for you. He's going to let you play on one condition. Absolutely no fighting. Even arguing verbally. And if those two weeks go smoothly, he'll let you back on the team for Finals. Think you can handle keeping your fists and mouth to yourself?"

"I don't know if I want back on," Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't even like football."

Schuester flicked his eyes to a wide-eyed Kurt, and he gestured to the door, "Kurt, do you mind waiting back outside for the rest of class? You can help your classmates dig up some songs we could use. Don't hand those music sheets out until a few days into February, alright? You can look over them and practice some choreography, but I want this to be kept between us for a while."

Kurt nodded his head, squeezing Blaine's hand once before slipping away from him and opening the door. An uproar of voices drifted into the room of how Schuester favored Kurt and Blaine above everyone else, then it clamped off again as the door clicked shut behind him. Waiting for the staring eyes to pass along again, Schuester leaned in toward Blaine and muttered, "Have you been working on your song?"

"No," Blaine muttered without pause, "I haven't. I have no idea what to write and I'm just… lost right now."

"I get it, Blaine." Schuester nodded, "Don't feel rushed. I'm not trying to… get onto you or anything like that. How have you been doing? You know… since New York. Has anything changed?"

"Not really," came the flat answer, "I mean… Kurt and I are still really good. But other than that… no. But, Mr. Schue, that's not the subject. This… thing… Figgins has planned—it's not going to work. The New Directions are going to freak out, and I could bet everything I own that the entire football team is going to ditch those two weeks."

"Some will, yes," Schuester agreed softly, "We already know that. But if they do, Beiste's agreed that their punishment will be no Finals, and Figgins is going to take fifty percent off their grades. You're going to have to help, Blaine, by talking to them."

"What could I possibly do? The entire team hates me."

"Not all of them," he put in, "Yes, many of them don't get along with you, but a lot of sophomore and juniors on the team think very highly of you. You've done something not a lot of them have the courage to do. And I know Sam, Finn, Puck and Mike all balance both glee club and football, but you're different than them. You did a complete one eighty with your attitude, grades, social life, and a lot of them who were heading in the direction you were once living needed to see you change. I have a feeling a lot of those kids on the football team are going through the same things you are—many of them are showing signs of homosexuality, or even bi-sexuality. Seeing you with Kurt might help them find themselves more."

"What, so seeing another closeted gay would help their case?" Blaine grumbled sardonically, "The only other gay kid I know of on the team is Karofsky. Speaking of, how do you expect me to be okay with letting Karofsky anywhere _near_ Kurt? Didn't you ever think of the danger of letting Karofsky be around Kurt? Putting Kurt on a football field with Karofsky is the worst idea you've ever come up with. He'll just try to tackle him and crush him. Kurt's sitting this out, Schuester. You're not changing my mind about that."

"Blaine," Schuester held out his hand for Blaine to stop, "everything's going to be okay. I'm never going to have Kurt anywhere near Karofsky. He won't be playing the field with him. I'm always going to have him somewhere within five feet of you, and if he's not with you I'll keep him with me. I won't even put Kurt in anything dangerous with football, like tackling. If anything I'll have him lay down every time he's on the field. Technically he'd be playing the field, but he wouldn't be in any danger."

"Yeah, unless someone steps on him," Blaine sank further into his seat, "As long as you swear to keep him away from Karofsky."

"I do." Schuester replied without any room for doubt in his voice, "We'll have Beiste, Sylvester, Figgins and me always present. Karofsky won't be able to pull anything. We'll figure things out, Blaine. We have a few more weeks."

Before Blaine could reply that as long as Kurt would be playing the field things were going to happen on his terms, a sudden banging sound alerted them into attention, and both of them whipped around to face the glass wall separating them from the choir room. Locating Kurt instantly, Blaine allowed his heart to start beating again only after he'd confirmed that it wasn't Kurt who had fallen, then his eyes traced to where Brittany had collapsed on the floor, her hand on her stomach as she dry heaved with blood and vomit drooling down her cheeks.

"Oh, my gosh," Schuester whispered quietly, lurching out of his chair and darting for the door. Blaine swiftly followed after him, and rushed over to Kurt to collect him in his arms.

Everyone in the choir room appeared the same exact way, round eyes and dropped jaws, their faces pale and shocked like they'd been watching an innocent movie when suddenly a monster had popped onto the screen. Santana suddenly stumbled out of her chair, dropping beside of a panting Brittany who, for the first time ever, showed true, frightened emotion on her face. Kurt's arms wound around Blaine, and he whispered to him, "I don't know what happened. She seemed so normal then she jumped out of her seat, tried running to the door and fell."

A few of the students started rising from their seats for a better view, but Schuester quickly snapped, "Give her some air. Someone hurry and get the nurse. Brittany, do you feel dizzy? Were you nauseous at all this morning?"

Santana collected Brittany in her arms, biting out, "Why the hell does everyone have to stare? Haven't you ever seen a girl vomit before?"

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Brittany gurgled from under the extra saliva in her mouth after vomiting, "Santana drove me to the doctor because my stomach was twitchy and I woke up every morning getting sick, and the doctor gave me this stick to go to the bathroom on, and then he said that I have a mini Brittany and Santana inside of me. But then Santana took me to this place where they told me they were gonna get the mini Brittany out of me, and I told them not to. Because I like dolls, and having a mini Brittany doll would be like being a celebrity, because they always have dolls of themselves that even talk."

Quinn's lips parted, and having already been through it and knowing the symptoms she whispered meekly, "Brittany's pregnant."

* * *

Gravel crunched under his tires as Blaine slowed to a stop in the quarter-mile driveway of the house he'd visited a thousand times before, and thought he'd never see again a month ago. He pressed down firmly on the brake and pulled the car into parking position, leaning back in his seat while he drummed his steering wheel with his fingertips. He'd never lied to Kurt before, as he'd never saw a reason, and he hated missing a good soufflé when it was still warm, but he couldn't just sit around. Kurt hadn't been the same since glee club, his mind always wandering to what torture devices they might use against the baby, his eyes blank and dark, his nervous lip biting maximized to the point where had Blaine not stopped him he would have drawn blood.

Not only did Blaine hate seeing Kurt in those states, but he also could sympathize for the baby. He understood the kind of life it was destined to live, even though Blaine had never been abused to the extreme. He knew just how it felt to be slapped across the face by a parent, when he watched plenty of other parents kneel down by their kids on the first day of preschool and almost not let them go, the thought of being separated killing them inside. He saw how Kurt and Burt acted together, in that loving, open, silly way he'd never managed with his own father. A new pawn had been added to this war between Blaine, Kurt and Karofsky, and suddenly things didn't seem as simple. Everything had a new meaning now that a baby existed, and Blaine was tired of putting this off.

Suddenly, the front door parted and a gray haired man poked his head out, waving Blaine away. "Private property!" he hollered through Blaine's window, "You can't park here!"

Ignoring Paul—Karofsky's loving and adoring father—Blaine popped open his door and stepped out, startling Paul into widening his eyes. "Blaine?" he murmured quietly, "Oh… you can't be here. David said to never let you on the property—"

"What a shame," Blaine replied darkly, treading up to the door, "I'm coming in, anyway. Where is he?"

Paul's face contorted, but rather than question Blaine he pointed around back, "He's in the backyard. Working. But you need to leave now, Blaine, or else I'll be forced to call the cops."

Blaine shrugged Paul off, stalking around the side of a house where a dog chained to a dog house on the other side of his fence barked ferociously at him. Abruptly, a loud swear met him on the other side of the house, "Dad, I told you not to come back here! Rex always loses his mind and I just dropped a screw because of that damned dog—"

Stopping a few feet back from where Karofsky was bent over a rusty car hood, digging his hands down into it, he muttered flatly, "Brittany's pregnant."

Karofsky's head flew up so fast he banged it on the hood, and another swear tore from his lips, "_Anderson?_ What the fuck are you doing at my house? Get the hell off my property."

"You call the police on me and I'll tell them you molested Kurt," Blaine replied nonchalantly, leaning against the back of the house, "Whatever you do this situation isn't going to work out for you. How long has Brittany been pregnant?"

"Why the hell is she going around telling people? We made a deal—" Karofsky snapped at him.

"Answer my question, asshole."

Rolling his eyes, Karofsky slammed the car hood down and plopped onto it, crossing his arms over his chest, "Since homecoming. That's when we did it. What does it have to do with you? You're not a fucking baby daddy because you're screwing that faggy trans—"

Blaine threateningly cracked his knuckles, tilting his head to the side, "Call Kurt another name and I'll fuck your face up. This has nothing to do with Kurt. This is about that baby. I want it."

Karofsky whipped into attention, his eyes wide, "Why the hell would you want my bastard?"

"Because the baby technically isn't yours. By blood, yes. Not by heart. And I know you'd rather cut every limb on your body off than keep it. So give it to me. I want it."

"No," Karofsky bit out at him, "The bastard's mine. I won't give you anything of mine… unless you give me Kurt."

Blaine crossed his tense arms over his chest, "There's no way in hell I'm giving you Kurt. He's mine."

"Then no deal," Karofsky grumbled, "Besides, until the pregnancy is over, I can't do a damn thing about the bastard. There's a five percent chance it'll make it through the pregnancy. Santana told me over Christmas break that she was half tempted to throw Brittany down a flight of stairs just to kill the bastard. The wounds and bruises would remind her not to be a slut and cheat on her again, and then the bastard would be gone. It's just easier that way, Blaine. I don't want the bastard, but I also don't want you to have it because I know you'll just coo over it and cover it in scarves and bows and all the pretty things in the world like the big ass hero you are. You're pathetic, Blaine. Man up. Kurt's turned you into a fucking she-male. Seriously, I can't even look at you in that bow tie."

Blaine snarled, "Well, you sure got an eyeful of me at homecoming. Don't push me, Karofsky, or I'll tell the entire school you're nothing more than a closeted molester."

Karofsky whipped off the hood of the car, marching over to Blaine, who raised his hands in defense mode, but then a pair of hands grasped onto his ass cheeks and Karofsky bent him over, his mouth crushing over Blaine's in a cold, wet and slimy flood of saliva and tongue in places tongue should never be. He suddenly squeezed Blaine's groin hard enough to cause Blaine to wince briefly. After about three seconds of letting the shock wear off he shoved Karofsky off and covered his mouth as he felt his lunch work its way back up his throat. Wiping his mouth frantically, Blaine screamed for the whole world to hear, "_Why do you keep doing that?_"

"That's what I'll do to Kurt if you tell people I'm gay, Anderson. Watch your back." Karofsky backed away from him, "That bastard isn't going to live through the pregnancy, so don't bring it up to me again. Even if I wanted to give it to you, I couldn't. Remember, if one bad word about me slips, I'll have Kurt pinned and his mouth sucking on mine before you can even scream for me to stop. Get it, asshole?"

Blaine panted desperately for air as Karofsky strode back around his house, kicking the fence to shut the yapping dog up on the other side, and with a moment of weakness he collapsed to the ground. Shoveling his hands through his hair, Blaine bit the inside of his cheeks hard enough to draw blood to hold down a scream of agony. He would never take his unborn nephew or his brother and future sister-in-law's infinite love for the baby for granted again.

The only thought that drifted through his mind for the entire drive home was that Karofsky had never actually called the baby a baby. He would be known for the first eighteen years of his life as a bastard, and no one would ever love him. And there was nothing Blaine could do about that.


	31. Turning Tables

Author's note: Hey, my readers. This chapter turned out nothing like I had planned so hopefully all of you like it. I got a review recently questioning Blaine's actions and Kurt's language barriers so I'm just going to say that Blaine isn't supposed to feel that threatened by coming out anymore. This chapter is really the start of him feeling comfortable with himself and his attraction and love for Kurt because he's beginning to see that more people support him than what he originally thought. As far as Kurt speaking English goes and him telling Blaine that English isn't his strongest language, it isn't his strongest language but it is one of his languages. I realize that I've been critical of France in past chapters, but I actually do like that country and hope to travel there one day. A lot of the problems in this story are going to be resolved in upcoming chapters, and right now Blaine's sexuality and his friendships with the glee club are my main focuses. Also, I was just reading through my last chapter and I realized Blaine stated something that could come off as confusing. When he was talking to Schuester about his sexuality, he made a remark about being in the closet, but I'd like to mention that he was being completely sarcastic. Anyway, I still love all of my readers and thank you so much for the support! If anyone has questions, suggestions or comments, I'd be happy to take them through review or PM.

Disclaimer: Glee is not mine. Nor will it ever be, which is a really disheartening fact.

* * *

Blaine leaned further back in his chair, guiding his arms around Kurt's waist as Kurt wiggled against him. It was a little after eight and Kurt was due at Rachel's in about fifteen minutes, but he'd sworn to Blaine to stay with him until the boys arrived. He claimed to be staying just so he could lay out some ground rules for the boys, but Blaine knew better than that. He was staying in case Blaine got stood up. He didn't really expect anything more than that. A sleepover with Finn and Puck—who each seemed to have forgiven him all too easily—seemed too good to be true, anyway. Blaine had done some horrible things to them, including messing around with their girlfriends. He doubted he'd be able to get over it if someone teased with Kurt provocatively and then handed him back and smirked in his face. Some things a man had his rights to hold a grudge about.

Tilting his head to the side and checking the clock on the wall, Blaine smoothed his fingers over Kurt's silky stomach where his shirt had ridden up. "Honey, it's been ten minutes. Just go to your sleepover."

Kurt mashed his lips together, eyeing the Marc Jacobs overnight bag lined against the door and then whispered, "They'll be here, Blaine—"

"Kurt, they're not coming," Blaine's voice quivered sharply, and when Kurt flinched down he immediately regretted lashing out but then snapped his eyes shut to block out the humiliation of having his pranks turned on him. Why had he even bothered hoping? What part of him that had laid out three bowls of snacks, soda and movies to fall asleep to when it was late had really expected the boys to show up? Finn, at the very least. But, no. They were ten minutes late and that was all it took for Blaine to see that he'd be spending the evening alone, probably watching football with Burt, while even Kurt squealed all night with his girls over boys and lived it up on pillow fights and popcorn cravings.

And Blaine, for once, would be the pathetic loser on Friday night who would be the complete laughing joke of the entire school on Monday. He expected the boys to be sitting outside right at this second snapping pictures of him in his mourning as he returned the snacks to their rightful cabinet shelves and went to bed alone. Like he couldn't have seen that one coming.

After a moment of silence on Kurt's part, Kurt flipped onto his stomach and pressed his face into Blaine's neck, his fingers stroking Blaine's tensed chest. "Blaine… I'm so sorry… I thought… I _saw_ Puck and he was so excited—"

"It's fine," Blaine muttered lowly, stretching his foot out and nudging Pavarotti, who appeared to be his only companion for the night. Pavarotti, who had been perched at the end of the couch and offering himself a thorough cleaning, popped up and twittered alertly. "Baby, you should get going to Rachel's. Want me to drive you?"

"I'm not going," Kurt whispered into Blaine's neck, his hands squeezing Blaine's powerful shoulders, "I'm not going to leave you here alone. Besides, this just gives me a chance to stay with Pavarotti tonight. He has a stomach ache from all of that travelling. I'll call Rachel and let her know—"

Interrupted by catcalls from outside, both Blaine and Kurt slightly lifted their heads while Pavarotti stiffened his spine and stood at attention, chirping noisily at the raucous outside. Suddenly, a body smacked itself into the window and Kurt jumped slightly back, his fingers pressing into his lips. The body whipped itself around and with the encouragement of a few giggles and snickers mixed with hisses to cut it out the boy at the window began shaking his ass, followed swiftly by a disturbingly squeaky shriek of Blaine's name.

On top of Blaine Kurt helplessly giggled, only to muffle it when the faceless boy whirled back around—revealing himself to be Puck—and blew a kiss through the window. He popped his eyes open again and stumbled back in shock, shouting to his accomplices, "Shit, Kurt's in there!"

Cackles burst into the air and the door flew open, and Sam tugged Artie's wheelchair in, then Mike and Finn strolled in heaving bags and snacks with them, and Puck hesitantly followed with his head hung low, "Sorry about that, Kurt." He muttered shamefacedly, "I thought you were gone."

Kurt grinned at him and patted Blaine knowingly, swinging his legs off the couch and sweeping a still chirping Pavarotti into his hands, "_Pardonné,_ Puck. I was just leaving."

Mike cleared his throat and blinked, glancing around the interior of the house, "So, where do we put our stuff?"

"Yeah, and where's the bathroom? I was at Rachel's earlier helping her set up her sleepover and they don't believe in bathroom time that exceeds ten minutes. That's not long enough to take a crap! I've been holding it in _all day!_" Finn plopped down on the couch right as Blaine rose, allowing Sam to replace his spot with Artie after he'd helped to lift him out of his chair. Blaine headed over to Kurt's side to grasp Kurt's waist as he slipped into his flats so he didn't wobble for balance.

"Oh, uh…" Kurt screwed up his face once Finn's words had sank in, "Blaine can show you guys around. Mike, you can put your things anywhere. Finn, if it's an emergency the bathroom's right down that hallway." He turned to Blaine, his face contorting into an entire frown as he lifted a twittering Pavarotti to his face. "Oh, give Daddy kisses, Pavarotti. I'll see you in the morning. Be good for your other daddy." Pressing a kiss to Pavarotti's beak, he handed him over to Blaine sorrowfully, "Blaine, be sure to keep an eye on him. He usually gets hungry at nine but I only give him a fourth of what he gets during the day, and he might start crying after all of you are asleep or if he realizes I'm not here, but a few kisses should pull him through until morning. He won't sleep in his cage, either, so if he wants you'll let him sleep with you, right—?"

"Kurt," Blaine cupped the side of his lover's face, "I know what to do. I've lived with him for as long as you have. He's just like taking care of a baby. Don't worry, I know that the volume on everything stays down, rough housing to a minimum and keep everything orderly. You know I'll keep Pavarotti with me tonight, too. Anything else?"

Kurt frowned at him, stroking his cheekbones, "You'll keep your phone on, won't you? In case I want to call you?"

"Of course, angel," Blaine nodded reassuringly, "And you'll call me for anything. If anything goes wrong o-or if you want to come home—"

Blaine quietly swore as Pavarotti realized one of his owners was leaving him, and the tiny bird chirped in rejection, pawing at Kurt anxiously. Tightening his grip so the bird didn't fall in his plea for Kurt to stay, he handed Pavarotti over to Kurt only to have the bird hop out of his hands and straight onto the floor. "Pavarotti!" Kurt gasped, bending to collect his bird but Pavarotti shook himself off briefly instead and climbed straight onto Kurt's foot in protest. "Well, he knows how to speak his opinion, doesn't he?"

Halfway relieved that Pavarotti so urgently wanted Kurt to stay with him and was capable of speaking the things that Blaine wasn't able to, Blaine knelt down and cupped the frizzled bird in his palms. The bird fluffed himself out, eyeballing Kurt as though to question why he had to leave. Kurt blew out heavily and shook the temptation to bring Pavarotti with him out of his head, "I'm going to be fine, Blaine," he stated, clearly referring to what they had been speaking about before Pavarotti panicked, "It's the five extra boys in my home I worry about. Remember, Blaine, my dad is supervising this sleepover and he will tell me everything. And our room will be left alone?" Kurt arched a suggestive brow, leaning in to whisper, "We have lube on our dresser. It'd just be best if they stayed out of there."

Blaine shook his head at Kurt's show of anxiety, "Honey, don't worry tonight. Everything's going to be fine. You're sure you don't want me to drive you?"

Kurt briefly glimpsed past Blaine to where Puck and Sam stuffed their faces with handfuls of pretzels to see who would be the first to choke, then tossed a light smile to Blaine, "I think I'll be okay, Blaine. You should probably stay with your guests. I'll be safe driving—I know how that always gets to you. I love you." Kurt stretched to briefly brush his lips against Blaine's, but then recalled the other boys in the room and settled on a two second peck that so wasn't good enough to hold either of them up until morning. But both of them knew they'd make up for it later. Ducking his head down to a cheeping Pavarotti, Kurt cooed to him, "I promise you I won't be gone long. Be good, sweet baby. I love you so much." Peppering Pavarotti in kisses, Kurt righted himself again and brushed his fingers over Blaine's cheek.

"Bye, baby," Blaine leaned against the door and slightly pushed it open, not yet allowing Kurt to slip out, "Have fun tonight. I'll call you later." Nuzzling into Kurt, Blaine whispered hoarsely to him, "I love you more than anything."

"See you, Kurt," Finn began a chorus of goodbyes to Kurt, and Kurt threw an awkward grin and wave over his shoulder before stepping out into the darkness.

Blaine remained planted at the doorway and lifted Pavarotti to his shoulder, gazing after Kurt as he swung open the car door and pushed his bag into the passenger seat. He shut the door behind him and the car light remained shining down on him, which further allowed Blaine to assure that he'd situated himself. Finally, Kurt clicked his seat belt into place and flicked his eyes up, and a frown curved his lips as he met Blaine's golden eyes. Both of them had become well aware that this would be the first time in months that they'd be separated for a night, and it took every ounce of strength in him to not rush at Kurt's car and yank him out of it. They seemed to be each other's air, each other's limbs, and being away from each other never worked out.

Kurt glanced back down at his lap, and Blaine started stepping away from the door when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled to pull it out, discovering a new text from Kurt, _I love you._ Blaine's eyes launched to Kurt's car just in time to see him wave in a friendly manner, like they hadn't ever been lovers, and suddenly his car drifted towards the road. Blaine nearly stumbled straight out into the driveway he was so taken with the idea of chasing after Kurt's car, but after a minute of waiting for all sight, sound and existence of that car ever driving on his road to pass, he peeled himself away and shot a look over his shoulder.

Behind him he observed the entire room in a way he hadn't been able to with Kurt requiring all of his attention, and he surprisingly realized that each of the glee boys had wiggled their way right into his house and were acting completely casual about it. Finn was the only one who nervously tapped his knee, rocking slightly back and forth as though to comfort himself. Mike bent over his bag and dug through it in search of something, while Puck collapsed into Burt's reclining chair, Sam by the TV hooking up a video game player, and Artie digging at a bowl of various chips.

Puck held up his hand to alert them of an announcement, propping his feet up and blurting to Blaine, "This party is _fantastic,_ man."

"I agree," Artie put in, lounging into the couch, "It's kind of nice having all of us glee guys together without anyone trying to Slushie us. And when Finn pulls out his Halo game, I'm gonna whoop all your butts."

Sam frowned apologetically, "Yeah, sorry we were late, dude. Ever since my parents found out I was working the poles last year they've been getting onto me about everywhere I went. It took a whole day of questioning for them to finally believe me that I was coming here."

"Oh," Blaine flicked his eyes between the whole lot of them, wondering what the hell to do with them now. Besides sleepovers as a kid where arts and crafts were the big thing to busy oneself with, the only sleepovers Blaine had frequented involved driving over to some slut's house and spending the night in a closet with her with his tongue jammed down her throat and a bunch of other guys rooting him on from outside the door. That didn't seem to be an option anymore. Crossing his arms over his chest, Blaine pretended to occupy himself with a pile of magazines he straightened mindlessly, and he subtly muttered, "So… you guys want to watch a movie? Kurt has more downstairs, but he gave me Singing in the Rain or… The Sound of Music—"

At the bored expressions on their faces, Blaine waved the offer out of the air when Puck mentioned, "As tempting as those sound, maybe later. What do you guys think about this Born this Way gig Schuester has coming up?"

Artie pursed his lips, "Yo, I think Schuester has us doing way too many lady songs. No wonder the entire school hates us."

Finn huffed heavily, "_And_ he's having us stick our biggest insecurities on those shirts. That's like asking to have a target pinned on your back."

Puck snorted and tossed a pillow at him, "Well, yours isn't a secret, _Frankenteen. _I vote we put our best qualities on the shirts instead, and in that case mine would say _Bad Ass Number Wah._"

"What does that even mean?" Finn tossed his hands apart, "And what did you mean earlier that you're breaking it off with Quinn? You two worked."

"You're breaking up with Quinn?" Sam whipped around to face Puck, "No way! You know she goes total psycho bitch when people break up with her! She's gonna slug you in the face with all of her leftover baby hormones!"

"Oh, cool it," Puck rolled his eyes, propping his feet up on the coffee table, "I'm not even sure if I will yet. I still want to be a part of Beth's life—just not Quinn's. I don't know, it's just that last week she practically climbed into my pants and started going on about getting knocked up again. She's a total whack job. She has been since I got her pregnant. You guys remember how she used Blaine just because he had money? And their drunk sex. That was _nasty._"

Blaine lowered onto the couch beside of Artie, who seemed like safe territory in the midst of all of their bad mouthing, "What do you mean, nasty? We didn't do it in front of you, did we?"

"No," Finn countered him in a gentler tone than what Puck would have, "He means that Quinn was being disgusting. Puck, you do realize you can battle for custody, don't you?"

"Yeah," Mike added, "My dad used to be a lawyer and he's dealt with cases like yours a lot. With all that stuff Quinn did she'd technically count as an unfit mother. You all should have girlfriends more like Tina."

"Or Mercedes," Sam muttered, "She won't even put out for me. She's like Kim Kardashian. I only get some of what I want if she gets some of what she wants." Rubbing his fingers together to symbolize money, Sam rolled his eyes and tossed his head back, "When did having a girlfriend become necessary to survive high school? They're all so needy."

"Why do you think I go solo?" Artie gestured to himself, "I remember when I had that phase with Brittany. Do you think Santana was serious, that Karofsky's the baby daddy? I always thought he was gay. He seems pretty into Kurt. Blaine, do you know anything else about what's up? You and him used to be close."

"It's true," Blaine picked at the fabric of the couch, "I went to his house and asked him about it. Can I… ask you guys something?"

The boys leaned forward in their seats, each interested in what Blaine had to say. Clearing his throat, Blaine shifted his weight, "I know… I'm always around Kurt during the day, but do you guys think you could start looking out for him? If you see him walking around alone, could you walk him to his next class or find me? Karofsky's really starting to act up and… he threatened Kurt when I went over there."

Puck parted his lips in shock, while Sam growled, "What did he say, Blaine? Is he still threatening to kill Kurt?"

"Was it another blow job threat?" Finn tacked into the conversation, "We've already got the protection thing covered. We can form a force field around Kurt if you want."

"Yeah, we'll be like his personal hit men," Puck hollered, "Nobody messes with my boy."

"So…" Artie cocked a quizzical brow, "Are you and Karofsky done for, like… ever? I remember back when he used to hang out with you, Finn and Puck, then he ripped you away when Azimio came to McKinley. You didn't like us back then, did you? I know you don't really know any of us, but you didn't really try to stay friends with Finn or Puck."

At that last comment the room hazed into an eerie silence that no one knew how to fill, and Blaine lifted his fingers to his shoulder for Pavarotti to climb into his palm, his needle-like talons scraping his skin comfortingly. Blaine finally cleared his throat, smoothing his hair off his face, "I made a few mistakes."

Sam rocked onto his heels, the only person who made a movement for the next minute in time. Finn abruptly mumbled, "And that's okay. We get it, Blaine. Karofsky manipulated you. You want to be one of us now, though… don't you? Because we'd be happy to take you back."

Blaine eyeballed each of them cynically, waiting for that one twitching smirk to give it all away that they were only kidding, that none of them truly wanted anything to do with him, but he didn't find that in any of them—even the ones who only knew him as that asshole who Slushied them on a daily basis. Drawing his attention down to Pavarotti, Blaine focused in on the tiny bird lowered into a seated position against his palm, fluffing his feathers out and cleaning the underneath of them. Always cleaning himself, Blaine thought as a side note, always perfecting himself. _At what point does a person get so far gone that he's beyond saving,_ Blaine wondered to himself, stroking his fingers down Pavarotti's back, _When is it that he's made too many mistakes to redeem himself?_

Suddenly, Burt's gruff voice interrupted the silent, tense air and Blaine whipped around to face him as he lumbered into the doorway of the kitchen, "I got a little worried; it sounds like a morgue in here. Kid, everything okay?" Burt peeled himself away from the kitchen and strode over to Blaine, patting him on the shoulder.

Blaine unsurely nodded his head, "Yeah. Everything's good, Burt."

"Okay," Burt leaned over to give Pavarotti a stroking, and Pavarotti chirped up at him, "You guys can turn the TV on or do whatever. I'm just watching the Dallas Cowboys beat the socks off of the New York Giants. I'm waiting on Kurt to call to let us know he got to Rachel's okay before I go to bed. Can you let me know, kid?"

Again, Blaine nodded his head, "I will. Thanks, Burt… for letting me have the guys over tonight."

"You don't have to thank me," Burt popped his shoulders up and down, "It's your house. Kurt does as he pleases. I don't see why you shouldn't, either. 'Night, Blaine." Shockingly Burt bent to indent a brief kiss to Blaine's forehead, then pulled away and returned to his mission to the kitchen.

Brushing his fingers through his heavy hair again, Blaine uncomfortably lifted his legs onto the couch and crossed them, unable to so much as meet the other guys' gazes. Another moment of silence passed and Blaine suddenly wished he was anywhere else but here. He didn't feel threatened at all, but it was more overwhelming than anything. It was one of those awkward moments of being stuck in a room with a person he used to be best friends with, and then with all the damage Karofsky did, Blaine hardly knew these people anymore. Karofsky had destroyed everything good in Blaine's life, chosen him to do his dirty work, and Blaine had gone along with it just because he'd been vulnerable. He'd let his guard down because he was naïve and young, and that was all it took for Karofsky to lunge and go in for the kill. Finn and Puck had escaped his grasp simply because they were smart enough to realize that they were better than being Karofsky's hit men, and they'd had glee club to fall back on, while Blaine had been more exposed than ever with dealing with his parents, cheating girlfriends, and not knowing his future.

It had been all that easy for Karofsky to sink his claws in and hypnotize Blaine into believing that he was ruler of the school, when all he ever really served was as Karofsky's punching bag, capable of taking the heat for Karofsky and controlling people far better than Karofsky was able to just because of his looks and the amount of power being a pretty boy quarterback could get him.

The thought that that had been his past and he'd been so unaware of it sickened him. He'd been used. There was no disguising that fact, and the idea that he'd never be able to change the future that was laid out for him now that Karofsky had morphed him destroyed him. Maybe he had hope at one point or another, but there was no hope for him now.

There was no getting out of the person he once was, no matter who told him differently.

* * *

Kurt counted the number of cars in Rachel's driveway—four, including her dads' car—which told him that he was the last to arrive. Slipping his bag over his shoulder, he propped his car door open and stepped out, careful to avoid any January ice and he strolled up to the doorway. He already missed his sweet baby bird and his sweet boyfriend, but figured that since Blaine hadn't called things were going fine. At least, he hoped so. Blaine was far too serious and rigid around others or new people to truly enjoy a game of video games or a wrestling match; usually Blaine just preferred sitting around and petting Pavarotti to keep his mind off things, or he would watch the sing-along version of old musicals with Kurt and quietly laugh as Kurt belted out the notes. If there was one thing about Blaine Kurt knew for sure, he was an observer, not a doer, which could be very fatal to his night with five active and rowdy boys. If only Kurt knew for sure that they would treat him right, reserved attitude and all.

Stepping up the porch steps to Rachel's front door, Kurt quietly knocked on the door and in answer two shouting, male voices hollered at each other to answer the door. Finally, one of them groaned and footsteps clacked against a hard wood floor and the door flung open, revealing a graying man with glasses on the other side. "Kurt," the man pointed at him, startling Kurt into withdrawing a step, "You're the Kurt Hummel Rachel's mentioned so much to us! She hardly did you justice—you're so gorgeous! LeRoy—oh, LeRoy—" the graying man didn't receive an immediate reply, so he slapped his hand against his thigh and groaned, "LeRoy, come out here and look at this boy! I'm sorry to gush, but you are just so _beautiful._ You look exotic. Those blue eyes have to be Irish. And your skin is so… perfect. When Rachel described you, you came out nothing as she said. How funny. I'm sure you must get men at your heels by the dozens, but you're dating that Blaine boy, aren't you? Rachel's ex?"

Kurt flushed wildly, tearing his gaze away, "Oh… Um… _Merci,_ but, no, Blaine and I aren't dating. We're just very close friends. And I am foreign. Well… I was born an Irish American, but I moved to France when I was very young. I consider myself French just because I love it so much there. I model for a French Vogue. Are you… Rachel's dad?"

The man automatically stuck his hand out, a gesture that startled Kurt, and he awkwardly twisted his hand to drape it in the man's firm grip. Realizing Kurt's uncomfortable demeanor, the man instantly loosened his grip and lay his hand so Kurt's rested atop it, "Oh, jeez… I'm being completely informal. Yes, I'm Hiram, the better side of Rachel's dads. Rachel is my baby girl. I have no idea where LeRoy might be. Here, make yourself comfortable, Kurt. The girls are up in Rachel's room. I'm cooking dinner and have plenty of snacks. Take what you like. Rachel says you have no food limitations but you're dieting? Good, then, I made a low carb macaroni salad. You hardly need to watch your weight, though."

"Oh, _merci,_" Kurt smiled politely and started backing toward the stairs, "Thank you, Hiram, for your hospitality. Rachel's room is upstairs, then?"

Hiram nodded toward the stair case, throwing open the kitchen door and not waiting until he was out of hearing range, muttering something about wishing to be thirty years younger again to have a second chance of choosing a husband. Kurt privately flushed, stumbling over the first stair and slipping his bag off his shoulder to dig for his phone. Surprisingly, he discovered a text from Finn with a picture attachment, so he flipped it open to find a pixelated and slightly blurry picture of Blaine and who he thought might have been Puck dancing in front of the TV, Blaine's arms and legs spread in one of his famous boy band moves, while Puck was slightly bent over and frantically shaking his hips.

Smiling softly to himself that Blaine was actually bothering to slip out of his shell and communicate with the boys—albeit through Dance, Dance Revolution but communicating nonetheless—he scrolled down to read the text at the bottom, _Blaine just kicked my ass at Dance, Dance Revolution! No joke, I'm literally icing my ass right now because I fell. Hobbit's got some killer moves. Things are going great! Call Blaine soon. Your bird's sleeping on his phone right now waiting for a call. Hope things are okay with you. Still blows my mind that Blaine lives in your house! You're missing out—but don't tell Rachel I said that._

Abruptly a chorus of squealing and giggles burst from above him, reminding him of the awaiting girls. Figuring he could call Blaine later in the night when everyone else was asleep to sexy talk each other into exhaustion, he fired off a speedy text to Blaine's phone. _Hey, my loving and wonderful boyfriend! I got here safe and just wanted you to know that I'll call you later. I love you more than anything and I'm so glad your sleepover's going well. Text me as soon as you can!_

Satisfied with his text, he slipped his phone back in his bag and strolled quietly up the stairs where more screaming and laughter greeted him kindly, like a warm hug from a compassionate sister. He slipped through Rachel's door—which was clearly marked with a gold star dangling across it—and found the girls perched in a circle on Rachel's purple and pink bed, the colors coordinated with her Hello Kitty and Strawberry Shortcake rendezvous room. A stack of magazines awaited them while Rachel flipped through her yearbook, then she pointed out, "How about Rick Nelson?"

"The Stick?" Mercedes grimaced, "A two. Final answer. Tina?"

"I…" Tina tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyeballing the picture of him in the yearbook, "would give him a four." At the girls' collective gasps she defensively raised her hands, "What? He's always gross and sweaty and probably hasn't showered in three years but at least he's passionate! Guys who aren't passionate always ruin kisses. Okay, moving onto—"

"Kurt!" Rachel tore her gaze from the magazine, waving him over spastically as she wiggled to make room for him.

"Well…" Tina awkwardly shifted her weight, "He's gay and my best friend, but… I would give him a nine. He's cute, sweet and has awesome lips. But Blaine totally has that mouth on lockdown… and don't you dare tell him I said that—"

"No, you dummy!" Mercedes slapped her arm, gesturing to Kurt who unsurely smiled and set his bag down, reaching to get his phone out of it, "_Kurt!_ Kurt, ignore everything she just said. On a scale of one to ten, rate Rick Nelson's lips and the dirty work they could do."

Kurt paled, flipping open his phone and finding a new text from Blaine that he was well tempted to hermit himself away and spend the entire night replying to. He managed to focus on the girls, though, lowering beside of Rachel on the bed that he couldn't avoid thinking about Blaine lying on once—this very mattress, waiting for Rachel to come in and have sex with him and then running out on her at the last minute. He was sort of reminded of a haunted house with all of the vicious memories contained in these walls that involved Blaine, _his _true love, not hers, as much as she liked to think so that everyone would absolutely fall in love with her. She just didn't know Blaine and his loyalty to Kurt. "_Pardon?_ I don't understand—"

"We're rating guys out of the yearbook," Rachel explained plainly, "We've already done Finn, Sam and Mike. Rate how good of a kisser you think Rick Nelson is."

Ignoring their expectant eyes briefly, Kurt slipped the book from Rachel's fingers and buried his nose in it, reading that it was from their freshmen year. He mindlessly scanned the page for Blaine's picture, discovering it right in front of Rachel's and just behind Azimio's. He wore a plain, black sweatshirt and his face revealed nothing except boredom, and a picture of him, Azimio and Karofsky huddled on the football bleachers together, Azimio with a killer look in his eyes as he glared down the camera man and Karofsky's eyes drifting over to Blaine and his hand on his shoulder, Blaine gave away that same _get-the-hell-away-from-me_ expression and that seemed to be the only other picture of Blaine on that page.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated again so Kurt flicked his eyes away from the page to check his phone, and two texts from Blaine had built up on his screen, so he flipped open the first, _Glad you're safe, angel. I miss you so much. Call me whenever. I love you more than anything._

He flicked his eyes to the second text, which happened to be a picture of Pavarotti perched inside one of Kurt's shoes with his head popping out and the shoelace dangling over his head. The text below it stated, _He misses you already. He's been crying for you. He wants to hear your voice._

Kurt smirked down at the text, his heart aching to hold his baby in his arms again, and he texted back, _I want to hear his, too. Give my sweet baby a kiss for me! I'll call you tonight and put him on speaker._ Hardly managing to send the text before his phone suddenly disappeared from his palms, Kurt gasped and his eyes flicked to Rachel, who waved it above her head.

"Girl time," she stated flatly, tossing his phone aside, "The last I saw, Blaine definitely does not understand girl talk!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, rocking back on his heels and thumbing through one of the magazines, "Why do you assume I was texting Blaine?"

Mercedes teasingly nudged him on the arm, "Who were you supposed to be texting, Avril Lavigne?"

Frowning, Kurt shrugged his shoulders, "No, she only answers on holidays when we're both in need of facials. Who do you think suggested my skin care products?"

Tina nearly spat out the gum in her mouth, and she slapped herself on the chest, "You have Avril's number? Kurt, are you insane? Do you realize what this means? We could talk to her! Who else do you know?"

"Taylor Swift and I used to be close," Kurt added to their amazed expressions, "But I'm not really close to anyone else. I might be doing a modeling shoot with Beyoncé sometime next year, though—" When each of them individually shrieked and lunged at his phone, Kurt dove for it and clutched it tightly in his palm, "But don't bother them! They're just normal people, too."

"You're joking, right?" Mercedes snorted, "These aren't regular people. Can you honestly compare Jacob Ben Israel with Avril Lavigne? If we didn't know you better, we'd probably be squealing and jumping all over you. Celebrities are… different, Kurt. They need to be held on pedestals. So… you're really serious that we can't call any of these people?"

"Yes, Mercedes," Kurt sighed, dropping his phone into his lap, "Besides, I need my battery for Blaine. And you'd have no idea how long it takes to get Avril on the phone. One time her manager questioned me for a _half hour_ before finally believing that I was actually me."

"Kurt's right, you guys," Rachel wrapped a loose arm around his shoulders, "We can ask him for backstage passes any time. When do we ever get to have a sleepover with just us? And how often do we get to rate guys on their kisses? Never."

"Ugh," Tina flopped onto the bed, her head tilting back in an exhausted manner, "Are we still rating guys? We've rated all our boyfriends. And honestly I think _my_ boyfriend deserved higher than an average rate of seven. You're all haters because you can't handle his dance moves."

"Yeah, but Kurt hasn't had a chance to rate anyone." Rachel countered her, unwrapping her arm and setting it in her lap, "So, let's rate Blaine. Kurt, you can be completely honest. This information will stay in my bedroom."

"I'll start," Tina blurted swiftly, "An eleven."

Mercedes immediately glowered at her, "It's only out of ten, and you just rated Blaine higher than you did your own boyfriend. What part of Blaine's kisses deserves an eleven?"

Tina smirked at her, clearly satisfied with her answer, "What part of them _doesn't_? He might be a total asshole sometimes when he opens his mouth, but I would be kissing him, and therefore he wouldn't be speaking. Let's see, hot body, great mouth, and I've heard he gives _awesome_ tongue."

Kurt choked on his own air, uncomfortably rubbing the nape of his neck while Mercedes bitterly spat, "I'd give him a three. He might be cooler than he used to be as far as the whole being a jackass thing went, but until I know his true motives I'm going to be cynical with him. I need that boy to prove himself before I start getting friendly with him."

"I'd personally give him a seven," Rachel added bluntly, "From experience I know that he doesn't give any tongue at all, and his kisses were always cold and rushed. But they were good. What about you, Kurt? What would you rate Blaine's kisses?"

"Oh…" Kurt flicked his eyes between the group of them, paranoid that maybe this was a test to see how detailed his complaints and praises of Blaine's kisses might be, so he decided to keep it simple and murmur, "A nine, I guess."

Mercedes instantly punched Tina in the arm, shooting her a questioning look then bobbing her head toward Kurt, and Rachel leaned toward him, "Why a nine, Kurt? Why not a ten?"

"I don't know," he shrugged his shoulder, "I can't be a pushover but I also don't have the experience. I suppose he could be a ten."

"Oh," Tina nodded her head, clearly having hoped for a more scandalous answer than that. "Okay, I think this game is dead. Rachel, let's talk glee club. Kurt, were you really being serious about doing disco for Regionals? _Why?_"

Kurt tucked his legs underneath him, laying against Rachel's flower pillows, "Blaine loves disco and I think it'd be good for him to have a solo. I don't want this Regionals to be all about me."

"You're right," Rachel instantly agreed, "Mr. Schuester is always putting the spotlight on you. If you told him to stop, I'm sure he would. _But_ I don't think the spotlight should be transferred over to Blaine. He just… doesn't have spotlight material in him. If you and I duet, however, we could kill it and get a win. I mean, think about it, Kurt, would you rather make the dreams come true of your other classmates, or make Blaine lose against the competition and turn everyone against him? Blaine just doesn't have the confidence or vocals to win against Vocal Adrenaline. And do you really want everyone to hate him when he loses?"

Flabbergasted by Rachel's horrible animosity to surrendering her spotlight to Blaine—who had every ability in him to win Regionals on his own, even without Kurt at his side, Kurt opened his mouth to reply when luckily one of Rachel's dads called up the stairs for the girls and Kurt to come down and eat. One by one the girls hopped off the bed eagerly, already having forgotten Rachel's semi-sadistic climb to the top, but Kurt abruptly found himself wincing against the thought of forcing food down into his queasy stomach. Needing to hear Blaine's voice or else he thought he might curl up somewhere and sob, Kurt shot the girls an assuring smile as they glanced over their shoulders at him, "I'm just going to use the bathroom really quick. I'll be down in a minute."

Shakily reaching into his bag for his phone, Kurt lifted himself off the bed hoping to find somewhere more private in case one of Rachel's dads came up to check on him and found him plotting his escape with one of Rachel's exes. Scanning his eyes over the screen, Kurt started punching in Blaine's number and winced when his pajama pant leg caught on the corner of a partially opened drawer of Rachel's dresser. "Shoot," he muttered quietly, glancing down to examine the damage and discovering the pant leg pierced by the dresser, a tiny hole torn into the silk fabric.

Backing away from the dresser would only tear it worse, so with a swift glimpse over his shoulder to assure his aloneness he peeled the drawer slightly out of its casing and freed himself, but as he slid the drawer back into place a journal slipped from under it and plopped onto the floor. _A secret journal,_ Kurt thought to himself, tempted to bend down and bury his nose in it just to find out what drove Rachel to the limits she did to get what she wanted, no matter who she had to throw under the bus. Kneeling down, he scooted the pink, fuzzy journal into his palms and focused on his honor for a girl's privacy, and he started to place it under the drawer just as a pocket-sized picture fluttered out of one of the pages.

He mindlessly picked the picture up, flicking his eyes briefly to the front and wondering if the journal had been recently used or not and if he was in the picture, and his mouth dropped open as his blood ran colder than it ever had before—even when he'd thought those thugs were going to rape him. A picture of Blaine rested in his palm, one he'd taken not two weeks before just for his locker use and screen saver of Blaine still lying in bed, his face sleepy and content as he smirked up at Kurt, waving for him to join him. He'd always thought Blaine had taken it down because it was too revealing for school grounds, but he'd never asked him about it.

And now this was suddenly his business.

Not bothering to worry if someone caught him, Kurt plopped down on the ground and flipped the journal open to the first page, the first date featured one from the middle of last year. Words like _love him_ and _he kissed me_ popped out at him, obviously from when Rachel and Blaine first started dating, so he frantically flipped toward the back of the book and hesitated as doodled pictures of Blaine started emerging, nude pictures of Blaine in erotic positions, each from only six months ago or shorter. He found an entry from when he and Blaine first became friends, and skimmed over it, finding phrases that talked about cheating on Finn, and knowing she should be over Blaine by now, and things about Kurt turning Blaine gay because he was prettier than Rachel and how that wasn't fair at all.

He skipped over the next few entries to one from a week and a half ago, and for whatever reason this page was wrinkled and possibly damp at one point from little droplets of water that Kurt assumed were tears, and he read how Rachel would never have another chance with Blaine other than through acting and she wasn't sure what would happen with West Side Story but was dreading it at every moment.

If there was before, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind now that he wanted to throw up.

* * *

Blaine startled awake to vibrating against his thigh, and he jerked his head up only to face a wall of darkness. He persistently blinked his eyes until the blurry blackness cleared to reveal the boys each passed out somewhere, Puck and Finn on the floor with their legs in a tangle and root beer and ice cream spit drooling from Puck's lips; Mike lay flat on the other couch, noisy snores tainting the otherwise peaceful air, and Artie lay on the other end of the couch, the top half of his body dangling off of it. Sam had curled up on the floor by Blaine's personal couch he always snuggled with Kurt on to watch sappy love stories, his body forming a perfect ball. Empty cups and bags of chips dotted the room, and shirts had been tossed around. Halfway hung-over from the surprising amount of fun he'd had with the boys—after the initial adjustments—Blaine blearily slid his hand into his pocket and checked the caller I.D., nearly falling off the couch when he saw he had a new call from Kurt.

"Oh, _shit,_" he swore under his breath, throwing his legs off the bed and carefully jumping over Sam. He tore his gaze over the room searching for Pavarotti, who Kurt would no doubt want to hear from, and spotted the tiny bird nestled down into one of Kurt's shoes again. Stepping clumsily over bodies and trash, Blaine leaned down to cup the sleeping bird in his palm, and Pavarotti blinked wearily with a soft twitter at Blaine. "Shh… Come here, Pavarotti. You want to talk to your daddy?"

Pavarotti perked up at that, chirping at Blaine and fluttering his wings. Blaine awkwardly carried the phone and his bird to the basement door, swinging it open and flipping the light on. From behind him one of the boys groaned, shifting around and growling for him to turn it off, so he swiftly and guiltily shut himself inside and paced down the stairs. Blasted by the scent of Kurt's perfumes, Blaine threw himself down comfortably onto his bed and rolled onto Kurt's side, loving the feeling of being enveloped in the smell of Kurt and their sexy times. He flipped open his phone and eyeballed his screensaver for a moment, a silly picture of Kurt making kissy face at a fluffing Pavarotti, seconds before Blaine had taken the picture and he'd burst into that pretty, joyful laughter of his.

He punched in the recall button and pressed his phone to his ear, waiting exactly two rings before a click cracked into the phone and silence answered him. Furrowing his brows as he wondered if this was some kind of prank call from the girls, Blaine perched Pavarotti onto his stomach and muttered, "Kurt, honey? Is everything okay? Do you want me to come get you?"

"No," Kurt's hoarse voice whispered into the phone, revealing that this was no prank, "I just needed to hear your voice. I feel homesick, Blaine."

Blaine raised himself up, disturbing Pavarotti into chirping at him and fluffing his feathers, "Sweetheart, you sound sick. Where are the girls at?"

"They're asleep," Kurt quietly answered, his voice quivering, "I'm okay, Blaine; I just… Rachel's been saying some stuff and I found something and I just… I'm not sure what to do—"

"Okay, sweetheart," Blaine breathed, wishing he was there with Kurt to hold him in his arms. He should have known better than to think Rachel could go one night without attacking those who threaten her. And with Kurt being as sweet as he naturally was, of course he'd be her easiest and main target. "Just… relax. I'll pick you up early tomorrow, okay? We'll talk about this, but I promise you that whatever Rachel said or did is all in vain. It's late, Kurt; you should get some sleep, angel—"

"Blaine?" Kurt blurted suddenly, alarming Blaine into silence, "Blaine… Do you… Do you still have feelings for her? For Rachel."

"I never had feelings for her, Kurt," Blaine automatically muttered, but it was in that moment that Blaine realized whatever damage Rachel had done… would be almost impossible to undo. And he didn't need to deal with Rachel when he had a million other things to bother with.

Maybe it was time to finally put a stop to Rachel and her power hunger against Kurt, the one person who meant anything and everything to Blaine.


	32. Stronger

Author's note: Salut, readers! This chapter isn't that interesting but it does serve a purpose. Next chapter is Blaine's birthday! I don't have much to say here so I'm just going to say that I love all of you and all of the support you've given me in this story. Hopefully it continues to please :) SilverWhiteDragon, your reviews and PMs are just these wonderful things I look forward to every day. Keep being an amazing Klainer. :P Arkell26, I'm dedicating this chapter to you. I don't really have a reason why but I've never done a dedication to you before and you've dealt with my Klaine fangirling more than anyone else and you don't even watch Glee, so you deserve an award. Anyways, I'm always open to questions, suggestions or comments so reviews and PMs are appreciated!

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Glee.

* * *

"Mr. Schuester?"

Schuester lifted his gaze from a stack of Spanish papers he slightly nudged the grades around with—especially with those students he preferred above others. To him, D's meant C's, C's to B's, and F's didn't exist. He was the kind of teacher few students hated. If only Kurt or Blaine took his class, but the two were devoted to their French class—Kurt for a taste of home and Blaine because he couldn't be separated from Kurt and needed to learn the language for Kurt. Some of his students were right, that he did favor the pair of them. He'd never felt so emotionally invested in two students or their love lives—Blaine more than Kurt, probably because he'd never had a son and Blaine had never really had a father. The two complimented each other, as much as Blaine tried to push his kindness away.

Spotting the man of his thoughts in the doorway, Schuester happily waved him in, "Come in, Blaine. I was just finishing up my grading. Is something on your mind?"

"Uh… yeah," Blaine uncomfortably shifted from foot to foot, and for the first time Schuester noticed dark circles enveloping his golden eyes, as though he hadn't been sleeping lately. He fingered a journal uncomfortably, and Schuester wondered if his song was in there. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Snapping his homework folder shut, Schuester immediately blurted, "Is Kurt okay?"

"What?" Blaine blinked at him, running his fingers through his thick hair, "No. No, uh… Kurt's fine. He's in the dance room practicing choreography for Bad, actually. This… This is about Rachel… and West Side Story."

"Oh…" Unassumingly Schuester gestured to the vacant piano bench then ripped a chair out of the mass of chairs for the glee kids, pulling it up beside of the bench and straddling it. "Has word about West Side Story gotten out? I was going to tell you guys about it after all this Regionals and Born this Way talk settled down. Have you… heard anything about the cast? Is Kurt… upset?"

"This isn't about Kurt," Blaine reminded him, plopping into the chair, "Well… Kurt doesn't know anything yet because I do think it will hurt his feelings when he finds out you didn't even consider him for Tony because he's too delicate—"

"Blaine, Kurt is my star pupil," Schuester sighed, massaging his temples, "You know I would love to feature him as the main star in everything he does. I never thought I'd find a student better than Rachel Berry, but we all know that Kurt is better than even her. But, Blaine, you know it'd be cruel to cast Kurt as Tony. It'd be _humiliating_ for him. He takes pride in his feminine side, and putting him in the shoes of a reformed thug who spits tobacco and swears every other word isn't… _Kurt._ He's a gentle person and Tony is absolutely the opposite of him. No matter how good his acting skills, he'd never be able to portray Tony to the fullest, and people might mock him or remember him as the gayest Tony in the history of West Side Story. You don't want that for him. Besides… would you really be prepared to let him go kissing on Rachel—even for something like a play?"

Blaine turned his face away in aggravation, crossing his arms over his chest and at a loss for words. He supposed Schuester had his points, but he just hated that Kurt had so few plays to choose from to work with when he had so much talent stored inside him. Troilus and Cressida, The Taming of the Shrew, The Tempest, all out of the picture. Despite his amazing and mind blowing talent, at best Kurt could be cast as one of those munchkins from The Wizard of Oz, one of the ones that has a two second solo in Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead then goes into hiding in his little mushroom house. The idea of it disgusted Blaine, but he secretly reveled in it, knowing that his other option in the traditional world could be Kurt being cast as some prince charming then sharing a stage kiss with some pretty little princess. Blaine knew that Kurt was gay and the kiss would be staged, but he was a selfish man and Kurt's kisses were the perfect things to be selfish over.

"Is this what you wanted to talk about?" Schuester's voice jerked him out of his private thoughts, and he suddenly remembered why he'd come here, anyway.

Slouching down in his seat, Blaine muttered, "Well, I wanted to talk to you about West Side Story. Mr. Schuester, I can't play Tony. Have Finn do it, but I can't."

"Because of Kurt—?"

"Because of Rachel," Blaine tossed the journal onto the piano—having already ripped out the erotic pictures just because they embarrassed him so badly. "I can't work with Rachel. You've probably heard that I had a sleepover with the boys."

"Yes," Schuester nodded his head, eyeballing the pink journal, "I heard. And I heard that you had a lot of fun. Is this journal…?"

"Rachel's." Blaine affirmed, "Kurt found it and he gave it to me. It's inappropriate, disgusting and, worst of all, it's bothering Kurt. He can hardly focus on anything else. I try to talk to him and it usually leads to him questioning me about things I did with Rachel while we dated. I refuse to work with Rachel in a romantic play if she's just going to use it as a way to figure out her feelings for me."

"Feelings for you?" Schuester nudged the journal toward himself, flipping it open to the first page and skimming over it, "Blaine, Rachel puts you down at every moment she gets. Are you sure this journal is about you?"

"Yes," Digging his nails into his palms, Blaine scratched until the burn of air sliced into his freshly torn skin he was sure would leave scars one day, "I don't know what the hell is going on with her but whatever it is… I can't encourage this."

"Because you're afraid of stirring up some leftover feelings…?"

"No," Blaine whipped his face away again, annoyed, "I'm not threatened by _anything_ that has to do with Rachel. It's Kurt I'm worried about. I don't want him feeling nervous all the time that I'm going to leave or cheat or _whatever._ No, we're not exclusive or anything but… what we have… I don't want to mess it up. And Rachel's absolutely fantastic at messing things up. She's already jealous of Kurt. If she wants me back, she'll do anything to tear us apart, no matter if Kurt's her best friend or not."

"Have you talked to her about it?" Schuester pushed the journal back toward him, but he didn't bother touching it. He hated touching it. "Blaine, maybe this is all a misunderstanding. Rachel seems devoted to Finn, the same way you are with Kurt. And have you talked to Kurt?"'

"_Yes,_" Blaine growled, then fixed his answer, "Yes, I mean, I've talked to Kurt. He knows how I feel about him… It's just a matter of him trusting my actions. I haven't talked to Rachel because I know she'll deny everything—journal or not. I just… can't play Tony. That's it."

"Blaine," Schuester leaned toward him, "I understand your argument, but… I need you in this. My only other option is Finn, but he just recently got a job. Your nights are free—"

"My nights belong to Kurt," Blaine countered, his eyes flaming dangerously, "Honestly, I don't have all the free time you think I do just because I don't have a job or extracurricular activities or community service. Kurt's always going to be my biggest priority and sometimes I help Burt in the shop, and I help Kurt a lot with dinner—"

"Okay," Schuester spread his hands, "I get it, Blaine. I know exactly where you're coming from. But don't you think you could bring Kurt to some of the play practices? He's a very social person, Blaine, and I don't think he sees his other friends enough. It isn't like he'd be sitting and watching you and Rachel make out, either. It's a two second kiss, tops. I even deleted out the one at the end just because this is a play by teenagers for a public school in Ohio. It'd be illegal to make two teenagers tongue kiss in front of an audience. That's borderline pedophile and I could be fired for that."

Blaine scooted back in his seat, shaking his head, "No, Mr. Schue. I can't do this. I promised myself to never hurt Kurt, and if this thing with Rachel continues… he's going to start resenting me. You're going to have to do this play without me. I deny a lot of things about our relationship, but I'll never deny that I love him more than anything else. I realize a lot of teenagers say that and people think they're being silly, but what I have with Kurt… isn't a one-night-stand kind of relationship where we break up after three months and get sick of each other then fuck the first person we see afterward just to get over each other. And I'm not going to let Rachel take him away from me, and if that means disappointing you… I'm sorry but that's the way it's going to have to be."

Schuester continued massaging his temples and swaying back and forth in his chair as Blaine rose from his and headed for the door, journal in hand. Without another word, Blaine paused by the trashcan and after a moment of staring down at his hand, he dropped the book into the garbage to be crushed between empty coffee cups and dirty tissues. Then, he pushed the door open and strode out, making it very clear to Schuester exactly what he thought about Rachel and doing anything remotely romantic with her that might harm his and Kurt's relationship—even something staged.

* * *

Blaine paced down the silent hallway checking the time on his phone and he figured that rather than return to biology he might as well visit Kurt, who had been dismissed to begin choreographing Bad. That seemed to be his newest devotion, as he constantly listened to the song in the car, danced around the house to the beat of it, and sang it to himself softly in the shower when he thought Blaine wasn't listening. Blaine wanted to find it almost adorable how excited he seemed to be working with the football players, but really he just found it sad and depressing that Kurt was so optimistic for this. As a former football player, Blaine realized that more than half of the football players would more readily chop off their dicks than give glee club one damn, and the fact that they'd be mocking Kurt and his hard work the whole time tore into him.

He wanted to give his sweet angel the world, but Schuester seemed determined in throwing them to the wolves. First Rachel and her strange obsessions with him, then the football players and their constant teasing with Kurt. If he had it his way, he'd take Kurt somewhere away from their peers, from the media, from everyone else, and listen to him sing softly in his ear all day without a care. He could finally have what he longed for, a world where he and Kurt could be by themselves, where he could have nudist days with Kurt whenever he pleased without fearing who might interrupt, and a world where he could act as gay as he liked without feeling like he had a façade to keep up, a mask to keep others out. A wall to keep himself safe.

Heading toward the dance room and hearing the sound of Kurt's tiny feet brushing the floor, Blaine casually pushed the door open and froze in the doorway, startled by what he found within. He caught Kurt mid-spin, balancing himself on the pad of one foot while his other foot hooked around his knee, and he gracefully launched himself into spin after spin, then abruptly popped out of his spinning to throw his head back and arch his body into a perfect _c_ formation, his stomach parallel to the ceiling and his head sweeping dangerously near the dusty floor. Slowly he lifted the foot by his knee into the air, never wobbling for balance or twitching from his flexible position, and he extended his leg toward the ceiling. He pointed his toe and then rose up on his other foot, his silk shirt stretching against his skin.

Mesmerized by Kurt's beauty and elegance, Blaine blew out to help cool himself down as his body heated up in reply, a prominent bulge pressing against his pants urgently. Fanning his burning face, Blaine skimmed his eyes over the swell of Kurt's ass in his leotard, the tight material leaving little to the imagination—not that Blaine really had to imagine anything. It was all memory doing the work. "Damn…" he grunted to himself, unaware that he'd spoken aloud until Kurt snapped out of his formation and whipped around to face Blaine, blue eyes round and startled.

Realizing his onlooker's identity, Kurt dropped his shoulders and managed a meek smile, turning away from Blaine and strolling over to the balancing bars, "I was practicing. Is there a reason you're out of biology?"

"Does there have to be a reason other than you?" Blaine muttered playfully, leaning against the wall as Kurt perched one of his long and slender legs onto the highest bar and curved his arm over his head to stretch himself out. "You look beautiful." If he'd ever lied to Kurt before, that most certainly wasn't. Dressed simply in a black leotard with his legs bare and only a pair of white footie socks on his feet, Kurt managed to pull off the skimpy, _I-just-threw-this-on-to-practice-alone_ outfit perfectly.

Kurt slid his leg off the bar and rested his hands upon it, popping his knees out and lowering toward the ground to loosen his thighs up, "I'm not making any progress on this. Coming up with dance moves is harder than it looks. Everything I know is too feminine for the football players." He stretched his leg out behind him and bent it so his toe pointed toward his head, then he slightly leaned over the bar in a pose Blaine could only connect with him urging Blaine to come and nail him from behind.

To steady himself out, Blaine turned his face away and fanned his face again. "You look hot, Kurt." He admitted bluntly, his voice breathier than he intended.

Looking over his shoulder, Kurt grinned devilishly and swished his hips from side to side. Blaine's pupils blew out of proportion, and he giggled, "I don't have time for this right now. I'm focusing on choreographing this and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"You're the one turning me on right now," Blaine countered, peeling himself off the wall. "You know, that cat suit is way too tight, Kurt. There's no way in hell I can go back to biology like this."

"Oh, as if you're the only one turned on," Kurt batted at him, and Blaine froze in his steady walk over to Kurt. He had Kurt turned on. Holy shit. "So, why are you here? I know it's not just to say hello, even though I appreciate your presence."

"Well… it was," Blaine mumbled lowly, situating himself behind Kurt and placing his hands on either side of his hips. Kurt stopped stretching immediately and both of them stood still for a moment, just breathing as Blaine's hard on burned Kurt through his flimsy cat suit. Sliding his hands down to Kurt's bare legs, Blaine squeezed them firmly and pressed his lips into the side of Kurt's neck, "We haven't done it since before the sleepover. I miss you."

Kurt blinked and reached up to touch Blaine's heavy curls, checking over his shoulder to assure that the door was closed and he whispered, "We've both been busy. Besides, it's only been a few nights."

"Mm…" Blaine pecked a pathway down to Kurt's shoulder, and his hand stroked up the inside of Kurt's thigh to the silk crotch of his leotard. With a single move he jerked Kurt's hips back, drawing a helpless smirk out of Kurt as Blaine smoothed his fingers over the front of the leotard down to the crotch, able to test the weight of Kurt's sex against his palm. "You've missed me."

"Of course I have," Kurt snorted with a giggle, "But… _Oh…_ We shouldn't do it here. We have a very comfy bed at home that's just screaming our names right now and—_Blaine!_" Kurt's mouth fell open in shock when Blaine nudged the crotch of the leotard aside, and Kurt's weeping cock spilled out into his hand.

Brushing the back of Kurt's leotard aside to reveal just enough of Kurt's firm ass to drive in and out of him comfortably, Blaine urged himself upon Kurt who didn't bother denying him. Instead, Kurt bowed over the balancing bars and laid his cheek against the highest of them, his breath coming in soft sips. Blaine rolled Kurt's dripping cock in his fingers, using his other hand to swiftly unzip his Armani capris and fish his own steel cock out into the air. "I'll be quick," Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, placing one hand on Kurt's ass cheek and thumbing at it until he opened Kurt up and spotted his tiny, puckered hole within.

Not imagining how he even started to fit his bulky cock inside of Kurt's sweet, tight entrance, Blaine fit himself against the opening and with one push he pricked his tip in. A high moan caressed Kurt's parted lips, and his cheeks flushed as Blaine circled and popped his hips. "Want more?" he throatily growled, earning Kurt's reply of wiggling his hips and forcing himself down on more of Blaine's cock.

Blaine pushed himself deeper into Kurt's hot and wet hole, glancing over his shoulder distractedly only when the sound of clicking heels crossed the pathway just outside the dance room, and he cursed himself that he'd forgotten to lock the door. Slipping deeper with a sucking sound, Blaine rode into Kurt and swiveled his hips, pulling his cock slightly out. He groaned and rammed his hips in all the way, slamming straight into Kurt's prostate. Kurt whimpered into his knuckles.

Frantically pumping himself in and out of Kurt while Kurt pushed his hips back into Blaine's thighs, Blaine grunted louder than he should have and pressed his face into Kurt's shoulder. "Close…" he muttered more to himself than Kurt, who was fairly deaf to anything but the sound of his own heart beating. Crooking his hips at a new angle, Blaine brushed against the roof of Kurt's prostate, the sweetest and most sensitive spot in Kurt's body, and both of them exploded at once.

Kurt cried out and forced himself as close as humanly possible to Blaine as he could be, and Blaine dug his hips into Kurt's ass hoping to keep all of his come inside of Kurt so it didn't drip onto the floor or either of their clothes, even though Kurt would be changing back into his normal clothes for lunch. Spastically trembling inside of Kurt, Blaine peeled his fingertips off of Kurt's sticky skin and slowly drew himself out with a pop, and Kurt collapsed onto the balancing bars with a satisfied sigh. "If I wasn't relaxed before then I am now." He breathed out heavily, "That was perfect."

"A little too quick for my taste," Blaine pressed a comforting kiss to the side of Kurt's neck, helping to organize his clothing back into place, "It _was_ perfect, though. We have about twenty minutes until lunch."

Kurt brushed a fallen hair off his forehead, biting the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, "Well… While you're here and I'm in my leotard, do you want to see what I've come up with? Press the play button on the stereo over there, _s'il vous plaît._"

Blaine obediently but reluctantly yanked himself off Kurt and strode over to the stereo in the corner, hitting the play button and a quiet melody of Michael Jackson's Bad filled the air. Kurt pushed himself off the balancing bars and strolled into the center of the room, holding his arms out for Blaine. "I'll need a partner," he teased, arching his brows, "Will you be mine?"

Cocking a single brow, Blaine eagerly tossed himself into Kurt's awaiting arms, readied to do anything Kurt asked. Kurt briefly checked where Blaine's feet were, then laid one hand on Blaine's shoulder and slipped his fingers through Blaine's. Blaine instantly cupped Kurt's waist in his hand, and he followed Kurt's movements to the beat as Kurt stepped forward then back a few times. The song reached a climatic point so Kurt swung himself out, all touch between the two of them dissipating except for their clasped hands, and when Kurt made a gesture Blaine clasped Kurt's waist again, lifting him up and watching Kurt kick his feet into the air.

When that was all Kurt gave him, Blaine lowered him back down to the ground assuming that was what he had come up with for the song. "It looks good, honey. I'm really proud of you, Kurt."

"Are you sure it won't upset the football players?" Kurt bit his lip, pressing his hands into Blaine's shoulders. "It's not too feminine?"

"Kurt, they'll do what you say if you tell them to," Blaine bitterly snapped, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, "Whether they whine or not is their business. Do what makes you happy and comfortable.'

"I know," Kurt moaned and buried his face in Blaine's chest, "It's just… I don't want to make anyone mad. This could be a chance for me to make friends, Blaine, or at the very least start to earn their respect. The idea is to survive the rest of this year unscathed. Do you have any advice?"

Blaine tilted his head to the side, then muttered, "Well, you could always try one of my boy band moves." When Kurt lightly giggled he continued, "Here, let me show you how its done." Kneeling down in front of Kurt, Blaine spread Kurt's legs as far as they would go then popped his knees out, and Kurt laughed as he pawed at Blaine's shoulders for balance. "Now stick your hands into the air and swivel around."

"This feels so unnatural," Kurt whimpered, swiftly clamping his legs together, "I'll leave you to your boy band moves. But I'm being serious, Blaine, I _don't_ want to upset the football players."

Realizing that Kurt wasn't kidding around, Blaine sighed and brushed his hair off his face, "Okay… I'll be honest with you. They're going to complain no matter what, but… you do what you want to do. Any dancing to them is going to be… a pain, Kurt. And they're going to voice their opinions at you, but just remember that they're big dummies who don't have a clue what they're talking about. Half of them just bad mouth because the others do it."

Kurt bit down on the inside of his cheek, pressing his knuckles into Blaine's stomach, then blinked and lifted his gaze to the door at the sound of a near silent knock and the door pushing open.

Whirling around in case it was a teacher who had caught them messing around instead of letting Kurt do what he was supposed to be doing, Blaine drew a step back at the sight of Santana in the doorway, for once in regular clothing instead of her cheer uniform and her book bag slung over her shoulder with a box in her hand. She hadn't made an appearance in glee club, which told Blaine she hadn't been there at all that morning, and over everything else she looked tired. Puffy eyed, paled out face and thin cheeks, it was clear that things weren't going her way.

He slowly dragged Kurt against his chest who stumbled to wrap his arms around Blaine for protection from her evil glare or wicked insults, but none of that came. Instead, she weakly whispered, "Blaine… Can we talk?"

* * *

"I told my _abuela_ about being gay," Santana muttered as she strolled down the emptied hallways with Blaine at her heels, and without warning she paused at her locker so Blaine skidded to a stop behind her. Swallowing thickly, Santana pulled open her locker door and Blaine was startled to find it completely empty, except for a picture of a Brittany still dangling there by a single magnet. After a moment of staring, she slipped even that one out of the locker and let the magnet plummet to the floor with a clink. "She kicked me out last night."

Blaine eyeballed her, wondering where this was going and what the hell was going on, "Don't you have parents to live with?"

"Yeah," she stuffed the picture into her pocket, turning to face Blaine and slamming the locker door shut, "But I was living with my _abuela _for a long time. I haven't seen my parents since middle school. They travel a lot."

"So?" Blaine shrugged his shoulders.

Santana licked her lips, "I was wondering how you handled it when your parents disowned you for being gay."

"Santana, I'm not gay—"

"Close enough," she snapped, her eyes swelling with tears, "It's just… I loved my _abuela_ and I never expected her to kick me out for being gay. And what with Brittany being knocked up and Karofsky demanding time with the baby, it really pushed things too far and you're the only person I can turn to, Blaine. I tried talking to Pillsbury but she just gave me a pamphlet and pamphlets aren't good enough right now!"

Blaine cocked his brows, "Okay… Why do you have to turn to me?"

Santana covered her flushed face with her palms, shaking her head, "I don't know what's going on and that's the problem. Blaine… I'm leaving McKinley. I really need to get my life straightened out right now and Brittany doesn't have any money for the baby so I have to find a job somewhere and Karofsky isn't willing to spare one dime for it. I don't know if or when I'll be coming back. I'm turning in my Cheerios uniform right now. And then… Britt and I go to court in less than a month."

"To battle for custody," Blaine quietly assumed, and Santana nodded her head while running her fingers through her hair. "Where are you going, then? Traveling with your parents? Are you leaving Brittany or something?"

She shook her head, "No. I don't know. I mean, I know I'm moving in with Quinn. She's offering to help me through this because she's already been through it, but I just… need some time away from Brittany. I'm lost right now. And I need to find money somewhere and Brittany's idea of earning money is selling chickens from a poultry farm."

Furrowing his brows, Blaine leaned against the lockers, "You can't find a job that will pay enough for a baby's life before you get your diploma. The best you can do is work the poles and even that won't be enough to pay for two months of baby food and diapers."

"I know," she blurted, "I've already thought of that. It'd be easiest if Brittany would just abort this thing but she's completely convinced it's some talking action figure of herself and won't let me take her to a doctor. I want to leave her, Blaine, but I really do love her and I needed to talk to someone. Everyone hates me because I'm so honest when I tell people that they suck but you know how I feel with being gay and Kurt and getting kicked out and everything—"

"What do you mean, with Kurt?" Blaine alertly questioned, "Kurt isn't pregnant with another man's baby."

"I realize that!" Santana threw her hands into the air, "But what would you do if that was the case? Would you leave him?"

Uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot, Blaine rubbed the nape of his neck, "No… I would help him through it. But I don't have to worry about that. Look, I get what you're saying. But I didn't really care when I got kicked out because I wasn't close to my parents. And Kurt took me in so it didn't bother me much. And… as much as I don't give a damn about Brittany, she's going to need you in this."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Santana lolled her head back and moaned, "It's impossible to do anything for her when she's so unwilling to realize that tiny elves didn't grant her a mini action figure and that there's nothing to this. All while I'm working my ass off to support a baby who isn't even mine."

Blaine stared down at her dark head, his mind torn between turning her away because he suddenly had that power over her or actually caring, which, despite all the shit she'd put him and Kurt through, seemed like the best option. At least, it seemed like the moral one, and the one that Kurt would choose without a second of hesitation, so he grumbled, "Do you have your phone on you?"

Santana glared up at him, "Now isn't the time to be putting your number back in my phone, Blaine. We're over."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine held his hand out, "Just… give me the phone."

Reaching into her pocket, Santana dug out her phone and plopped it into his palm, and he immediately flipped it open and typed in a new contact. He handed it back over to her, "That's my brother's number. He's about as good as a millionaire so… when you need him, just call him and tell him you're a friend of mine. He'll give you money, but I want the money to go to the baby. If it's not I'll cut you off. Before you ask, this isn't for you. This is for the baby. I don't like you."

Santana cocked her brows, slipping her phone back into her pocket, "Well, aren't you just some hero? I'll be sure to name the baby after you, then."

Blaine stepped away from her, "Whatever. You can be grateful or not but I've gotta get Kurt to lunch. I'll see you around, Santana."

"Blaine, wait," she paused until she gained his full attention—well… as much attention as she could get when his mind was focused on Kurt—and she reached into her bag for the newest addition of Teen Vogue. Handing it over to him, she muttered casually, "I thought you might want to see that. I picked it up at the store. After people see this picture, there won't be a lot of denying that you're gay anymore. But, honestly… no one really gives a shit, Blaine. Everyone knows you're gay. The only person who doesn't is you. I don't think it's that big of a deal. But… about the baby… I appreciate the help for what it's worth. Thanks, Blaine."

Frozen by the lockers, Blaine watched his fourth and last ex-girlfriend saunter down the hallway as though nothing were wrong at all, then flicked his eyes down to the cover of the magazine and his face paled out. He'd seen this coming, but hadn't expected it so soon. He wasn't ready. Underneath one of the _scandalous _pictures of Blaine kissing Kurt was printed the caption, _A liar or a victim? All will be revealed._

And Blaine was damn sure he wasn't even beginning to be ready to have all be revealed. Because he wasn't even brave enough to reveal anything to himself. He liked his relationship the way it was with Kurt. He didn't need to tell himself that he was exclusive with Kurt to know that he loved him, not when the thought of coming out terrified him like nothing else. If only he knew what the hell it was stopping him from loving Kurt fully, then he might be able to become the man Kurt deserved and love him with no boundaries, just the way a beautiful person like Kurt needed to be loved. By a prince charming, which Blaine definitely wasn't.


	33. I've Gotta Be Me

Author's note: Short chapter... I know, it's a pain for me, too. This might be the last chapter I get in before school starts and now that summer is winding down chapter lengths should stay about 5000-7000 words. This is probably the cutest Klaine chapter of them all. It has pointless Klaine fluff in it and a lot of Pavarotti scenes, which I definitely like writing :) JMarieAllenPoe, you're finally back and I'm so relieved! Your ideas have helped me survive this story. SilverWhiteDragon, because of your lovely ideas I'm dedicating this chapter to you! I didn't make this chapter as dark as I originally planned, but the magazine has been mentioned! Orange-Coyote, I loved your review. So glad you've stuck with this story :) If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them. I've had a few reviews from old chapters and those seem so far away and I have to check to see what I wrote in them, so your review reminded me of the Sectionals chapters and I really had fun with those! My characters have changed so much since then so it was pretty cool reading over that and seeing how they've developed. Anyway, I'm done with my author's note now so enjoy this chapter and I love all of you!

Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, there would not be rumors of a Klaine break-up and here's how Klaine would have met. Blaine: "Hey, I'm Blaine. Wanna get married?" So, obviously I don't own Glee.

* * *

Briefly checking over the scratch ingredients for a cranberry-pecan olive oil cake, Kurt sprinkled another half cup of all-purpose flour into his mixing bowl and blew out as he whisked in the added ingredient. He brushed his thumb across his forehead as though to jolt his memory for how long to bake the cake, so involved in his cooking that he hardly noticed the fridge door slam behind him. Suddenly, a hand reached across his work station and snatched an orange from his bowl of fruits, and without thinking he swatted it away. "No," he bit out, lifting his gaze to glower at his wide-eyed dad, "those are my cake toppers. Out of my kitchen now."

Burt withdrew a step, stunned at Kurt's sassy mouth, "You _are_ your mother in the kitchen. You know, of all the things I thought I'd see in my life, you baking a cake in the morning was the last of them. Going through cravings?"

"No," Kurt whisked harder than he should have, not bothering to care if batter splattered the counter. A spot of it flew out and landed near Pavarotti, who was working to crack open a seed with his beak, and he lifted his foot with a high pitched twitter as he eyeballed the batter. "It's Blaine's birthday. I told you last week, Dad. Don't tell me you forgot again."

"_Again?_" Burt swiftly snatched a fruit, anyway, biting into it before Kurt had a chance to protest, "Kurt, you've got to let that go. I did not forget your birthday when you were three years old. I'm amazed you remember it that well, anyway. It was… It was a surprise party, okay?"

"For who, you?" Kurt mumbled sardonically, scooting another seed toward Pavarotti when he started pawing at Kurt, "Luckily, I realize you have a tendency to get your mind on one thing and leave out others, so I took the liberty of buying Blaine's gift for you. It's the newest Louis Vuitton collection with the matching Armani capris. Blaine adores Armani and he's a complete dream in them. And I'm giving you complete credit for the gift, so to practice for later when Blaine is thanking you, I'll tell you that you do a _wonderful_ job of picking out gifts."

Burt sank his teeth into the orange, patting Kurt on the shoulder, "I could have done without the sarcasm, but what are we doing for Blaine's birthday? Anything huge planned for today?"

"Oh, I wish," Kurt admitted honestly, "I was thinking a party with all of the glee kids and a twenty foot cake with a chocolate fountain, but Blaine thrives on being simple. So I'm throwing him a party at home with you, me and, of course, my sweet baby, Pavarotti." Kurt cooed that last part to Pavarotti, who chirped happily at him, "And we're going to have a delicious breakfast first, then snuggle and watch Blaine's favorite movies, and open presents and have cake afterward."

"I'll leave you two to the snuggling," Burt muttered, "but count me in on the cake. Chocolate or vanilla? I think a swirl of both could be good."

"Cranberry-pecan olive oil cake," Kurt stated casually, "with a topping of fruits."

"Are you serious?" Burt backed away from Kurt, peeling open the fridge in search of a sweeter and more fattening substitute for the healthful dessert. "Even a birthday cake can't be full of carbs? I'll tell you what a cake should be. Sugar, sugar and more sugar. I know who won't be making my next birthday cake—you."

"I'm an excellent cook," Kurt countered, measuring out a tablespoon of orange marmalade. "Dad, you know I never pride myself on being conceited but you and I both know I can cook a better birthday cake than anything you'll buy at the store. Besides, Blaine's addicted to cranberries. And Pavarotti enjoys snacking on the pecans I don't use. Don't you, Pavarotti?"

Pavarotti eagerly chirped, fluffing himself up and shaking his tail feathers spastically. Burt frowned at the display, but he didn't comment. Instead, he lumbered toward the living room to watch football and paused in the doorway, "Call if you need me. I'll just be in here. Want me to get Blaine or… something?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, continuing to whisk, "He'll wake when he wakes. We had a long night last night—"

"Kurt," Burt interrupted, "There are some sentences a father never wants to hear, and that's one of them."

Flinching his head down, Kurt grinned helplessly and flicked his eyes to Pavarotti, the tiny bird staring up at him adoringly. He lowered slightly and scooted Pavarotti onto the perch of his finger, whispering to his bird, "This is Blaine's first birthday with me. Do you think he'll like it?"

Pavarotti twittered and fanned his wings, tilting his head from side to side. Although he was uncertain what that gesture meant, Kurt wanted to believe that today would be alright, if not perfect. If he truly wanted to hope.

* * *

Blaine lay back on his bed staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he should get up soon or if he should just start coughing and feign sick. He'd never liked birthdays. Not a single one of them. While most people envisioned the presents, cake and gathering around with friends, Blaine always saw the darker side of birthdays no matter how hard he tried to take joy in them. They were just excuses for him to be ignored and set aside, except with more of an acute pain because when he was little he'd actually expected his parents to notice him one day out of the year—at least. It'd all started when he was five years old, when he started remembering things and seeing things from a different perspective than what he had as a baby, those first few years when it was all about a cycle of being fed, bathed, fed again then put to sleep.

He didn't know why he did it but he'd lay on the couch all day, silently waiting for someone to recall why he was bothering with spending time in the family room. While his parents had rushed around making phone calls and scheduling important meetings, he simply sat there watching them, daring them to forget about him, and by the time evening rolled into nighttime and his parents retired to bed, he'd realized that around his house, birthdays were nothing more than days cast aside for getting older. It wasn't until Cooper walked through the door with a box in his hands and a big hug for Blaine as Blaine tried to swallow down his tears that every other child celebrated his or her birthday, but he didn't, and he'd opened the present to reveal his first CD player with a CD inside of it of classic disco music, and the kind gesture forced Blaine to let his resentment for birthdays slightly go.

But it definitely didn't completely erase it.

He suddenly heard the sound of Kurt's laughter from upstairs—not the high pitched giggle saved mainly for Blaine or the forced laughter he made at Rachel's jokes—but the natural kind that probably meant he was teasing with Burt or playing with Pavarotti. Realizing that his birthday today wouldn't be avoided no matter what he did, Blaine swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He winced at a sharp pain in his gut and touched his fingers to the spot to soothe it, his entire body tensed like a spring waiting to snap. Despite his sexy night with Kurt—which, no matter what his situation, he would always love—and those few hours of being able to escape his mind and let his body take over as Kurt moaned, writhed and whimpered underneath him, his body needy and his lips bruised from urgent kisses, the second Kurt finished with that sexy little sigh he always released and collapsed on top of Blaine, it had all come back to Blaine with a powerful torture since all he had to do for a few hours was hold Kurt in his arms and think until sleep overcame him.

He'd practically outted himself.

Unique had warned him of the consequences, and he also made it clear to Blaine that he couldn't control where the media went. And the media had gone straight to Ohio. Blaine had agreed so that Kurt's name would be cleared, and after a night of examining that magazine inside and out, digging between the lines and searching the hidden meanings in some of the words it put out there, Blaine saw nothing that might hint that Kurt was a cock sucking floozy. His name had been cleared, and therefore he was safe from harm.

But Blaine wasn't.

He'd thrown himself to the wolves for Kurt's sake, and although his name had been left anonymous and the front cover picture showed nothing but his sweatshirt and lips on Kurt, who was clearly visible to the camera, only an idiot would believe that it was any other man under that sweatshirt hood. Santana had been smart enough to figure it out.

It was a good week since she handed him the magazine, and no one else had brought it up to Blaine, which led him to believe that because the people at his school thought the classiest store to go shopping at was Meijer, maybe his ass would be saved.

Abruptly the stomping of feet nearing his bedroom door alerted him into bunching the blankets over his naked body, and the door swung open to reveal Burt's head popping out of the doorway. "Kid, you awake?"

Blaine clutched the blankets to his thighs, shifting himself so Burt was able to see him and he called up, "Yeah, I'll be up in a second. I just need to shower really quick."

"Okay," Burt nodded, brows furrowing at Blaine's white-knuckled grip on the blankets, "Hey, happy birthday, kid. Feel any different for nineteen?"

_Only a lot,_ Blaine thought to himself, figuring he'd be going into this new year as an outted gay kid. Shaking his hand, Blaine managed a smirk, "Not really. But… thanks, Burt."

Burt ducked out of the stairwell again, snapping the door shut behind him so Blaine released the blankets and rose to his feet. The emptiness in his stomach didn't disappear, and the pain only got sharper with every step he took. _I've been outted by myself,_ was the only thought that continued to play in his head.

* * *

"Pass me the baking powder, Pavarotti?" Kurt pinched a half teaspoon of salt in his fingers, sprinkling it into the pancake batter and sniffing the scent of a warm cake fluffing and rising in the oven. He'd always loved baking ever since he was young and his mother beckoned him into the kitchen to pour the ingredients into a bowl and mix it up to his heart's content. She never let him handle the oven, but it always amused her when Kurt would sit and watch whatever he fixed change and morph in the oven, batter turning to bread, gooey pudding hardening into crumby brownies and everything in between. It was a tradition he kept up after her death, not to stir up old, sad memories but to keep the warmer times with her alive, to try to forget the darker days just before her death. His mother was never a dark person; she had enough good and kindness in her to turn the coldest of hearts to mush. She reminded him of the sun, almost painful to look at with her incomparable prettiness, her blue eyes that mirrored his and her gorgeous smile that usually accompanied a brilliant laugh.

That was the side of his mother he wanted to always remember.

When an egg rolled into his vicinity, Kurt flicked his blue eyes to Pavarotti who nosed it over to him then twittered proudly, stepping up onto the egg and patting his feet against it. Usually an excitable bird, he fluffed himself up and spastically shook off an invisible coat of dust. "Or an egg," Kurt grinned, giggling as Pavarotti patted it a little too firmly and it rolled slightly forward, startling the bird into bugging his eyes out of his head before wiggling again. "You know, you are rather terrible at telling the difference between paprika and pepper, sweet baby. But that's okay, you're Daddy's favorite little helper, anyway." Cooing to his chirping bird, Kurt bent over him and pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of his head.

"What, you're giving all of my kisses to him now?" muttered a teasing voice from behind him, and Kurt's heart, despite no matter how times he would hear that voice, stuttered to a halt as a strong pair of arms enveloped him and a pair of lips nuzzled the side of his neck. "Whatever you're making smells amazing, baby. And… Kurt, you're so beautiful…"

Kurt helplessly giggled, acknowledging that he was probably covered in flour with his hair still messy from bed and a plain white tee shirt of Blaine's draped over him, dangling just past the middle of his thighs. Although Kurt had a few inches on him, Blaine's compact muscles that Kurt lacked always made his shirts baggy on him. "You must have been recently blinded, because I'm not in this kitchen for beauty."

Spinning in Blaine's arms, Kurt flushed as he readily kissed away a smudge of white powder on Kurt's forward from when he'd brushed it with his thumb. Blaine grinned lovingly at him, but Kurt noticed his cheeks seemed hollower than usual, his eyes a little more vacant. "I think you're perfect. What's all this, though?"

"You know well and good what all this is for," Kurt played right back, swatting his arm. He grew serious after a moment and leaned in until the tips of their noses brushed, the scent of Blaine's shampoo and body spray intoxicating him as it always did—not quite so much as the natural scent of Blaine's skin when it radiated their sexy time aromas, but it still got him going. Pressing his hips into Blaine's, he cupped his cheeks in his hands and whispered against his lips, "Happy birthday."

For whatever reason Blaine's cheeks abruptly flushed, his pupils blowing out of proportion and he wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt, drawing him firmly against him. Without kisses Kurt laid his cheek against Blaine's shoulder, sliding his hands down to Blaine's chest. Blaine grunted as he lifted a sockless Kurt onto his own feet and rubbed his hand in soothing circles against Kurt's lower back and his perky rear end. Kurt's breath whooshed out of his body and he flushed with the stirring of his sex, his body heating up to Blaine's half-comforting, half-erotic touch. "This will be my best birthday." Blaine admitted quietly, "I've never spent one with you before. I can already tell that I love it—and you. So much."

Kurt sighed heavily, tilting his head to press his lips to the corner of Blaine's. The two of them immediately grew needier, their mouths desperately seeking and hunting until Blaine caught Kurt's bottom lip in his, and he tugged. Kurt's tongue poked out without a second of shyness, and Blaine sucked it into his mouth. Frantically pulling Kurt against him, Blaine slammed himself back into the counter and nearly lifted Kurt off his feet, his arches stretching as his toes pressed down onto Blaine's. Kurt anxiously raised one foot and wrapped it around Blaine's ankle, their lips popping and sucking every time one parted slightly for air.

Ignoring the leftover food or Pavarotti sniffing at the pancake batter testing if he might get caught for having just a little taste then deciding his owners were too caught up in each other to even notice the house burning down, Blaine tore his mouth from Kurt's and bit, licked and kissed his way down his lover's throat, and Kurt nipped down on the inside of his cheek to hold down a scream of pleasure. Blaine's hand groped for Kurt's thigh and he instantly slid it up past the tee-shirt, discovering he had no underwear on which turned him on even more. If it wasn't for Burt in the living room, Blaine would have torn the damned shirt off of Kurt, boosted him against his chest, carried him down the stairs then nailed him to the bed.

But because he respected Burt, first of all, and his relationship with his son, and he didn't want to put Kurt in a compromising situation, Blaine did the hardest thing he'd done since finding out people were calling Kurt a whore. He tore his lips and hands off of Kurt and nearly burst into tears he was so turned on. An unimaginable bulge screamed against his pant zipper, and he so couldn't wait to get Kurt underneath him.

Kurt stumbled slightly and he gripped onto the counter to steady himself, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed. Unable to so much as look at Kurt bending over the counter and knowing how easy it'd be to flip up his shirt hem and nail him mercilessly until he screamed Blaine's name, Blaine fanned himself and turned away, prepared to collapse to the floor. Catching sight of Pavarotti right as he stuck his tongue out at the whisk lying beside of the batter bowl, then snatching it back up into his mouth guiltily, a helpless chuckle gurgled in Blaine's throat at the ridiculousness of the situation, and the fact that he couldn't keep his emotions intact for more than two seconds. Part of him still wanted to worry over the magazine, but with Kurt who didn't bother him with coming out or not coming out or judging him and his tiny bird who was only concerned with getting a taste of Kurt's cooking, Blaine allowed the laughter bubbling inside of him to blurt out.

Beside of him Kurt mashed his lips together, his face and eyes also bright with contained laughter at a joke that hadn't even passed, and releasing a brief giggle Kurt whispered to him, "You know, if we go by tradition we're going to have to survive eighteen more of these birthday kisses before the day is done. And I look forward to giving you every single one of them."

"Not if they're in front of your dad," Blaine snorted, and Kurt covered his lips with two fingers as more laughter tickled the tip of his tongue. Bending for a swift peck to Kurt's lips, Blaine cocked his brows and muttered, "Seventeen. And if we're going for birthday smacks—" Daringly Blaine leaned over and swatted Kurt's bottom with his fingertips playfully, "Eighteen more of those, sweetheart." He smirked devilishly at Kurt, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers, backing toward the door and pushing it slightly open when Kurt suddenly whipped around then spun back, and before he had a chance to even breathe a cloud of powder blurred out his vision.

Stunned, Blaine immediately reached up to wipe his eyes and opened them to find Kurt grinning innocuously at him, brows arched as though to question if Blaine would retaliate. "Okay," Blaine taunted with a haunting calmness in his voice, prowling up to a giggling Kurt who wriggled impatiently. Kurt took two steps back when Blaine approached him, his eyes round and lips curved, gaze trained on Blaine's hands as he dipped them into the powder then gestured for Kurt to come near. Kurt shook his head, taking another step back. "No, come here," Blaine insisted, remaining casual, "One more birthday kiss."

When Kurt took yet another step back, Blaine lunged forward and captured him in his arms with a single squeak of protest, cupping Kurt's cheeks in his whitened palms and pressing his lips firmly to Kurt's before releasing him. Kurt briefly and softly sneezed at the attack of powder on his cheeks, causing Blaine to burst into rowdy laughter at how adorable he looked. "_Blaine!_" Kurt stamped his foot, pursing his lips, "That wasn't fair! I wasn't ready to escape."

Blaine chuckled lowly, bending and stealing another kiss, "Next time don't be off your guard." Leaning in to press his lips to Kurt's ear, Blaine whispered hotly, "And don't tease with me, Kurt Hummel, unless you're willing to pay the price." He drew back with a cocked brow that set Kurt rocking on his heels, his body trembling, and with another pat to Kurt's ass, Blaine continued casually, "Seventeen more of those, and fifteen more kisses. Keep on your toes, Kurt Hummel. I plan on surprising you today."

Confidently striding away from a panting and well ravished Kurt who could only think of one thing he wanted to do at the moment, or else he might have to retire to his bedroom and saw a pillow between his legs to pleasure himself and undo the damage a teasing Blaine had done, Blaine pushed open the kitchen door and drew himself into seriousness now that he was away from a thought-clouding Kurt and all his pretty perfume and round, blue eyes that Blaine couldn't get enough of. He thought ahead to their birthdays in the future, of sharing thirty and then forty and so forth kisses with Kurt each birthday they shared together. Would he still be with Kurt when they were forty years old?

_He could only hope,_ he thought, grinning to himself.

* * *

"I've been thinking a lot about your gift," Kurt admitted softly, resting his cheek against his fist which was pressed to the back of the couch. Curling his legs underneath him, Kurt scooted closer to Blaine to the point that he nearly rested on his lap. Pavarotti, who had been perched on Kurt's legs, glanced up at the movement from his talons and chewing them into perfect points, and he twittered alertly up at Kurt.

"That sounds promising," Blaine chuckled, lolling his head against the couch and shaking his head, "Sweetheart, you know I'll love whatever you got me. Whether it's Ralph Lauren or Armani. You're my perfect present," Flicking his eyes to where Burt reclined in his chair and casually drank a can of soda, Blaine leaned in and whispered, "and I can't wait to unwrap you later."

Kurt rolled his eyes, snuggling closer to Blaine and wrapping an arm around his neck, "Well… this present is even more important than Ralph Lauren. Pavarotti, will you be Daddy's sweet baby and go fetch them for me?"

Pavarotti chirped and bobbed, and Blaine's entire body tensed as the bird hopped down from the couch and waddled away. "Oh, my gosh…" he whispered in alarm, "these aren't those baby birds you were talking about, are they?"

"No, silly!" Kurt laughed, and his dad's attention snapped to them with the same state of shock at the sound of _baby_ and _birds_ spilling from Blaine's lips. "Both of you, calm down. Pavarotti?"

Pavarotti's twitter was muffled under the few fake roses branching out of his beak, and he waddled back in the room trying not to trip over them. Readied to please his owner, Pavarotti held them up to Kurt who took them from his beak then offered his finger as a perch for the tiny bird. Pavarotti stepped onto it and fluffed himself up, chirping when Kurt smothered him in a loving kiss, "_Merci,_ Pavarotti. I bought you roses, Blaine."

Pressing them into Blaine's hand, Kurt curled into his side and whispered, "The red represents all the times I've felt romantic toward you, or romanced by you. It means deep and passionate love. And the yellow signifies how proud I am to be yours. That I feel lucky when I look at you and I know you're mine. And they're fake to represent that, like our love, they won't die. _Je t'aime toujours._"

"What does that mean?" Blaine murmured, entranced by Kurt's use of French.

"I love you always," Kurt pressed himself up against Blaine, who curved his lips and dipped down for a swift but adoring kiss. "And I will. I promise."

Smirking in greed, Blaine fell over Kurt's lap and pressed his cheek into Kurt's stomach, keeping his weight off of him but loving the feeling when Kurt's stomach vibrated with a giggle as his fingers delved into Blaine's heavy curls. He pressed a kiss to Kurt's soft stomach flirtatiously, not willing to jerk alive as a noisy knock cascaded over the air. Burt sat slightly forward in his chair, eyeballing the door then arching a brow at Kurt, "Kurt? Can you explain? Were you expecting company because I didn't plan for having fifty kids in my house."

Kurt shook his head, swinging his legs off the couch but Blaine immediately pressed him back into it, rising instead, "Stay, I'll get it." Privately acknowledging the lack of clothing on Kurt's body, Blaine snuck off the couch wondering might go through a man's head if he caught Kurt in only a tee shirt. His _boyfriend's_ tee shirt, but just a skimpy tee shirt. Honestly, he didn't want to know, but he had a good idea and hated the thought of anyone even imagining messing around with Kurt.

Striding up to the door, Blaine threw it open knowing Burt's and Kurt's eyes were glued to his back, and his brows furrowed at a young delivery guy holding a box in his hand. Distracted by his own phone, it took Blaine clearing his throat to finally realize that the door had opened then peeked slightly past Blaine in Kurt's direction, so Blaine instantly shifted his weight to block Kurt out. "Can I… help you?"

"Yeah," the guy's pre-puberty voice cracked mid-syllable, and he read off the name on the box, "A package from Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine's face blanched. There were three male Anderson's besides him left in the family, the first being his grandfather who he'd never seen in his life, the second his father who could have easily been the sender, and then there was Coop who also could have sent the box. Half afraid of what it contained if it was his dad, Blaine collected it from the kid with a quiet thanks then turned away, wondering if he should open it in front of Kurt or not.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he eyeballed the box and shook it lightly, at least five pounds worth of items within. Kurt popped to his feet and scurried over to Blaine, "What is it, Blaine? Is it from your brother?"

Blaine shook his head, carrying it over to the couch with Kurt on his heels and after Pavarotti hopped onto the arm of the couch, gazing at the box just as curiously, he threw himself down. Not bothering for gentleness in case it was just the documents for the disownment confirmation, Blaine ripped the top of the box open and peeled the flaps apart. A paper lay atop the items so Kurt snatched that up, leaving Blaine to examine the interior. A picture frame was the first thing he found, and within it was a picture of Blaine and Coop from when Blaine was about fifteen, his hair slightly shorter and his cheeks fuller. Coop had taken him on a family trip with Alicia to the Bahamas for two weeks, and in the picture they stood in front of a palm tree with Coop's arm draped over Blaine's shoulders and Blaine's arm around Coop's back.

Setting the picture frame aside, Blaine pulled out a torn up picture of alien looking creatures with arrows pointing to them and in sloppy handwriting the creatures had been labeled as himself and Coop. Underneath that was Blaine's first CD player, decorated in stickers and scratched and worn, and probably more than outdated. Reaching the bottom of the box he set that aside and Pavarotti jumped into it, his head popping up over the edge as he burrowed into the packaging peanuts and tossed them around with his shaking tail feathers and beak. It was like jumping into a bouncy ball pin for a bird.

He turned to Kurt who appeared to be reading the letter while deep in thought and he scooted toward him, wrapping his arms around him. "This is from my brother?"

"Yes," Kurt nodded his head, handing over the letter and picking up the doodled picture. Blaine directed his gaze toward the letter, written in Coop's perfect handwriting.

_Blaine,_

_I realize a call could have been easier but I was afraid I wouldn't have time to call you on your birthday, so I put this together instead. These are some things I've been finding around the house and I thought you might like to have them. Hopefully when you take my baby you can show them to him to remind him of me._

_I had an amazing time with you New Year's Eve and maybe we can catch up again soon, possibly for Kurt's birthday. Send me a text or email with the date and we can plan around it. Anyway, we're going in to the hospital for new ultrasound pictures and I'll email those to you as soon as I can. The baby's developing great. Archer was the decided name, right? I like it, it's very original._

_I saw the pictures of you on that magazine and wow! What a creative way of coming out. I'm really proud of you, Blaine. Do what you have to be happy, you know? At least, I hope that's you! If not I'd recheck things with Kurt, but I trust my future in-law._

_The limo's pulling up to the hospital now so I'm going to leave this at that so call me soon. Happy birthday and I love you._

_—Coop_

Lifting his eyes from the letter and placing it back in the box while Pavarotti kicked the peanuts around with his tiny feet, Blaine turned his gaze to Kurt who shot him an innocent smile, his eyes naïve and round, "What does Cooper mean about a magazine, Blaine?"

At Blaine's wide eyes, Kurt's brows furrowed but then realization swept over him.

The magazines had been published, and they'd gotten to Ohio.

Blaine was going to be outted.


	34. Hate On Me

Author's note: One of my favorite chapters and I wrote it all in one night! I'm trying to get in as many chapters as I can before school starts. There's pretty much not a lot of fluff from here until near the very end of the story, so that's a bummer. Hopefully you all like the upcoming chapters, anyway. All I can say about this chapter is... Poor Kurt. I hate when he gets hurt, but he's always left out of the drama and I wanted to include him for once. So this is what happens! Arkell26, ILY2. I'm dedicating the first sentence of this chapter to you. Just because I'm nice like that. SilverWhiteDragon, I miss your fantastic reviews and PMs! Please give me some ideas soon! I love them so much :D JMarieAllenPoe, you never fail to amaze me. You're back for a few days and you've already given me enough ideas to write half a story. Your character will be wonderful. And if I don't see your story published soon, I'm gonna go all Lima Heights! XD But, anyway, dedicating this chapter to you. Hopefully the fight scene was good! No kicks to the groin but Kurt definitely has a new punching bag :P By the way, to all my readers reading this chapter, this chapter in no way means that I like Santana. I like her best of Karofsky, Brittany and her, but this will probably be the only chapter where I'm remotely nice to her.

Disclaimer: This story = Mine. Glee ≠ Mine.

* * *

"Yeah, I'll pick up some soda," Blaine muttered into the phone, leaning against the cool wall with Kurt tucked at his hip and a wall of noise fading in and out of his earshot. Rubbing his hand over Kurt's waist, Blaine furrowed his brows as Kurt wandered off just a few feet, admiring the busied mall. He snapped the phone shut on his conversation with Burt and focused on the task ahead, an entire day set aside to shopping. For Valentine's Day, Blaine allowed Kurt to choose their date, and what else would he choose besides shopping at the mall? Nothing, that's what.

Abruptly Kurt wriggled against an abandoned cart and boosted himself into it, the front of it tipping slightly so Blaine jerked forward and snatched the other end to hold it steady. "_Kurt,_" he censored, but Kurt ignored him, plopping down into the bed of the cart and crossing his legs. "While we're on the home goods level, your dad wants us to pick up some pop. Does Pavarotti need new bird seed?"

"He might appreciate that," Kurt giggled, swiping out his phone and flipping it open. "But don't get any from the stores on this level. Pavarotti will only eat it from Birds Galore."

"Kurt, that place sells it for, like, fifty dollars a bag, and it's the same bird food they sell down here," Blaine pointed out, then surrendered with a sigh when Kurt cocked a daring brow at him.

"My baby knows gourmet when he sees it." Kurt cooed to Pavarotti, who chirped and bobbed while fanning himself out. "Besides, I heard that ribbons are the new _in_ for birds and I refuse to let my baby be outdated. Isn't that right, Pavarotti?"

"Okay," Blaine groaned, pushing the cart through the appliance section and into the refrigerated area, "Kurt, I hope you know I only brought seven hundred with me, and then two credit cards, and your dad will go through the roof if he finds out you spent all of it on clothes. Besides, I'm taking you out to dinner tonight and Breadstix isn't cheap."

"Oh, don't worry," Kurt insisted, eager to correct, "This is a mall in Ohio. I won't find much that's not tacky or a knock-off."

Kurt's phone vibrated against his palm and he flipped it open, his face screwing up at the text within, so Blaine leaned slightly over right as Kurt snapped it shut again. "Who's texting you? You never text. It's not Puck about those pot cupcakes, is it? You haven't eaten one, have you?"

"No?" Kurt's voice raised slightly into a questioning form, "Wait… What cupcakes?"

"Never mind," Blaine shook his head, "Just… If Puck tries to sell you a cupcake for his new car funds, don't eat it. But, come on, who are you texting?"

Kurt sighed, slouching against the metal bars of the cart, "If you must know… It's Rachel. Oh, don't make that face, Blaine. I didn't like what she was doing as much as you didn't, but it was all a misunderstanding. She's truly sorry, Blaine. How can you blame her for what she was feeling, you are rather attractive."

Blaine rolled his eyes, "I couldn't care less what Rachel says or does. Don't you find it the least little bit creepy that even after a year of being broken up and me not speaking to her she was still drawing these erotic pictures of me and stealing pictures out of your locker? She acts half psychotic sometimes."

"Okay, fine," Kurt compromised while Blaine abandoned the cart briefly to peel a twelve pack of Pepsi off one of the shelves then stow it under the cart, "I'll admit that Rachel does concern me sometimes. When I found that journal I almost thought I'd inherited my dad's curse of heart attacks and—"

"Don't joke about that," Blaine swiftly muttered, his jaw set. Kurt sighed, realizing he'd hit a bad nerve on Blaine to always cringe away from thoughts of anything awful happening to Kurt after those thugs nearly raped him.

Continuing on, Kurt added, "—but I can understand where she's coming from because if we ever broke up I would never be able to get over you. No, I doubt she ever loved you like I do—"

"Which she doesn't." Blaine put in.

"—_but,_ Blaine, I wish you would just forgive her and move on. She's a teenage girl, and nearly every teenage girl is crazy over you. The stronger man always forgives first, and I think you'd be happier if you could at least try to be friendly with her. You've let a lot of resentment build up inside of you, and it's bittering you. I'm not saying this is your fault, but I think you should understand that people do odd things when they have crushes. Rachel's just one of many girls who probably has a diary dedicated to just you." Kurt gazed up at Blaine's face, catching the slight softening of his jaw and the weariness in his eyes.

"Why are you always right?" Blaine grumbled teasingly, a soft smile curving his lips that Kurt delighted in.

"Even when I'm wrong, I'm always going to be right, Blaine." Kurt informed him knowingly, "Remember that for when we ever get married. So, will you forgive Rachel? I know you're devoted to me. Otherwise you wouldn't be taking me shopping. Think of it as a simple schoolgirl crush she has on you." Stretching his arm out of the basket, Kurt linked his fingers around Blaine's wrist and squeezed lovingly.

"I don't know," Blaine said with a harder tone than previously, "I'll think about it. Okay, where do you want to go first?"

Kurt perked up and glanced over the edge of the cart, scanning his territory. Spotting an Aéropostale, a Delia's and quite a few American Eagle's but no Vogue's, Gucci's or even Juicy Couture's, Kurt narrowed his eyes and appointed Blaine, "I don't know, but take me somewhere with a brand name."

"That sounds expensive already," Blaine muttered, but obediently helped Kurt sniff out of his three hundred dollar and higher brands.

* * *

Blaine stalked into the Prada Junior after a gleefully bouncing Kurt, who earned the glares of many mothers cradling newborns to three year olds. Most of them automatically assumed that they were two young, gay teenagers planning for adoption or surrogacy, and the naïve ones thought they were brothers. Following Kurt into the pink and blue store hopping to the beat of older pop music, Blaine flushed as the eyes of expecting, moody mothers glowered at him, each of them assured that having two gay boys in the presence of their children would most certainly taint them before they even turned five years old. Kurt didn't seem to mind, though, completely oblivious to the mothers whispering to their sons and daughters to ignore him or tugging them away from Kurt's vicinity.

Kurt scurried back to the infant and newborn section, planning outfits already for Archer. Blaine approached him from behind and already found him digging out a soft blue onesie with puppy dogs on the tiny feet. "Oh, Blaine," Kurt touched his hand to his heart, holding it up for him, "This is precious. I'm going to see if they have this with a hood attached to it for colder nights." Placing that back on the racks, Kurt knelt down and buried himself in the clothing, pawing for a hooded onesie. Eyeballing Kurt's ass which was curved toward the ceiling, Blaine blinked at the outrageously scandalous thoughts of what he could do to Kurt's body at that moment in a freaking children's store.

Turning his face away to block it out to no prevail, Blaine's brows furrowed as he caught sight of familiar dark skin behind a counter, and that high, swishing ponytail he'd seen a thousand times before. He rose up on his toes and glanced past a woman with a two year old holding her hand tightly as though something might happen to him in a store that just screamed _there's-no-danger-here,_ gasping as he caught sight of Santana half collapsed over the counter, her hair tied back tightly and a bored expression on her face as she typed on the computer. A red apron was draped over her chest with what looked like a name tag proudly situated against her chest, and with a brief flick of her eyes up at the store they widened slightly as they traced over Blaine.

He realized he couldn't get out of greeting her now, so he bent over Kurt and placed his hand against his back, "Kurt, I'll be right back, honey. Stay here. Call if you need something."

"Okay," Kurt said casually, not even bothering to look up as he checked over a white tee shirt with the words, _Daddy's Prince_ on the front of it, so Blaine rose to his feet again and pushed his way past a few mothers and a lot of clothes racks of baby clothing. On his shoulder, Pavarotti, recently draped in a flattering cherry red ribbon, twittered in surprise at being taken away from Kurt, frantically patting his feet against Blaine's shoulder as he spun around to eyeball his other owner.

Striding up to the vacant cash register where Santana stood at attention, Blaine muttered, "When did you start working here?"

"A week ago," Santana rolled her eyes, "The business here is shitty. But… it pays alright and I figured if I'm supposed to be raising one, why not get myself adjusted to having a little brat around. What are you and Lady doing here? Finally deciding to go surrogate?"

"Kurt," Blaine altered for her, just in case she didn't know his real name after calling him so many other nicknames, "And, no. My brother's having a baby and I'm taking it in for a few years. Kurt wanted to get an early start on picking out outfits. So, why are you here? My brother shouldn't have turned you away for the money."

"I haven't contacted him," she tucked a hair behind her hair, peeking past him when a mother carrying a screaming child swatted his wrist, then chose to ignore the chaos, "I'm not going to do charities unless I get desperate. And even then it will pain me."

"So, you think working here will be enough to pay for a baby's life?" Blaine muttered, rubbing the nape of his neck and checking briefly for Kurt, who was still perched by the baby clothes and thoroughly examining a pair of onesie pajamas with moons and clouds decorated on them, "Santana, you've never been stupid. You might have been a bitch, but you're not stupid. Even I have an ego but I know that Burt's job wouldn't be enough to pay for Archer's life, so I'm putting myself aside and taking my brother's money. Don't tell me you don't care for this baby. I know it's Karofsky's and not yours but are you honestly bitchy enough to hate a baby?"

"Brittany's lucky that I haven't left her," Santana grumbled, typing harder on her computer then turned away when a woman approached her with a pink rattle.

"Excuse me," the woman gestured to the rattle, as though it already wasn't clear what was bothering her, "Do you happen to have this in blue?"

Cocking a single brow, Santana smirked viciously, "Do you see it in blue on the shelves? No? Then clearly we don't have it in blue."

Startled by her rudeness, the woman backed up a step then spun away muttering incoherent curses about bad service these days, and without a single hint of remorse she turned back to Blaine, "Look, I get how bad it looks that I want this baby gone and that the only reason I'm caring for it is because I love Brittany enough to settle with the baby. Mother of the year, huh? But… I always expected that after high school Brittany and I would marry in a legal state and then go surrogate and the first baby we'd have would be part of me and part of her. We'd use half of my ovaries and half of hers—" At Blaine's slight grimace she shook her head, "I'm not like you, Blaine. I couldn't just… love a baby that wasn't mine."

Blaine eyed her half sympathetically, "I think I get it. But… even if Kurt was trans and got pregnant with another man… I think I could see the baby as just another part of Kurt. You can't do that for Brittany?"

"No, actually, I can't." Santana reached below the counter to pull out a bib and folded it up harshly, then tossed it onto the counter. "Sure, I don't want to hurt the baby or anything. I mean, I'd easily get Brittany an abortion now, but I don't have it in me to slap a baby around. It's Karofsky I'm worried about. I don't know, he's been drinking a lot and he hasn't showed up for a lot of the court meetings but the judge is going to give the baby to Karofsky for the majority of the time, anyway, because we're lesbians and he might be gay but they don't have to know that because he's still in the closet. Karofsky's gonna do bad things to that kid, Blaine, and you know it. He's tried molesting Kurt. He hunts on weak prey. And a baby's the perfect target."

"What can I do?" Blaine offered, remaining calm despite his urge to tear into something at the mention of Karofsky prowling on Kurt then projecting what he would do to him on Blaine through mouth. A lot of mouth. "He can't get away with this. He'll kill the baby."

"But the judges don't know that," Santana shrugged casually, "And Karofsky's never had a record with the police before. To them, he's just an innocent victim to a slut who got pregnant. I hate to say this but I'm actually on your side when it comes to Karofsky. Snix wants to punch him in the throat."

"Well, Snix isn't alone," Blaine grumbled sardonically—for the most part.

Feeling something brush his back, Blaine glanced over his shoulder to find Kurt prancing up to him then gluing himself to Blaine's back at the startling sight of Santana. Wide eyed and arms full of baby supplies, Kurt managed a meek, polite smile at Santana, "_Salut, _Santana. Funny seeing you here."

Santana tilted her head to the side and gestured to her work uniform, "It isn't my Cheerios uniform but it is a uniform. Are you buying all of that? I'll ring you up."

Kurt eagerly spilled all of his items onto the counter, and Santana began scanning everything with more than a bored expression. "Wait," Kurt held up his hands, "I have to get the matching booties. They were an absolute must!" Before he had time to think about it, Kurt rose up on his toes and pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek, and a sudden gasp sharply corrupted the air within a ten feet radius of them, while Santana only arched her brows and smirked lightly.

Turning his head to the side to see if anyone had caught them while Kurt bounded away, Blaine tiresomely met the wide eyes of nearly every mother in the store, their shock radiating off of them like electricity, some of them so bold to even drop their things and march out of the store hoping for a later time when the air wouldn't be so full of gay to mess up their children's innocent minds. Sick of the constant struggle he had with hypocritical conservatives, Blaine brought himself to ruthlessly bite out, "Get over it."

Santana's grin broadened, and she tilted her head to the side, "Maybe I was wrong in dumping you. You're as evil as I am."

"I doubt that," Blaine countered, not in the least flirtatiously but as a simple way of saying they were completely done, "You're lesbian and I'm half bi-curious. Our types don't mix."

Suddenly, Santana's face stretched into a frown as she looked over his shoulder at something, and with a quiet curse she abruptly hollered, "Dammit, I told you not to come to my work!"

Brows creasing, Blaine followed her gaze to the doorway and his entire body stiffened as Karofsky sauntered in with a stained tee shirt on and baggy pants that Kurt would have frowned at. The thought of Kurt brought his attention to another fright, and he whipped around briefly to check that Kurt was busied looking at booties. He swiftly ripped out his phone and within seconds fired off a text to Kurt, _Stay there._

He continued staring Kurt down who remained completely unaware of his eyeballing, then Kurt casually lifted his vibrating phone from his pocket and checked the message. His face instantly screwed up and he jerked his head up to question Blaine, but then his face washed completely white as Karofsky entered his line of sight. Knowing that Kurt got the message that this was suddenly unsafe territory, he blew out in partial relief as Kurt quietly snuck around one of the racks to hide himself. His eyes switched back to Karofsky, who smirked and nodded at him like he was in on a secret that Blaine didn't know about. "Hey, Buttboy. Where's your boyfriend?"

Not giving Blaine a chance to reply, Santana muttered, "Get the hell out of here, Karofsky. You serve no purpose in my presence right now and I'm about to go all Lima Heights on your Ham Hock face."

Karofsky ignored her, focused completely on Blaine, "No, seriously, where's your faggy boyfriend? At home being your little housewife? Nice bird, by the way. His head would look good on my wall. Can I see him?"

Pavarotti twittered on Blaine's shoulder, cowering into Blaine's neck and trembling. Fed up with the constant insults, Blaine muttered calmly, "Get your ass out of here because I'm about two insults away from fucking your face up. Come on, there are kids in here. Can't you be civil for one day of your life?"

"Um…" Karofsky pretended to be deep in thought, then snorted, "no. Actually, I can't. Because I'm not a total fag."

"Really," Blaine humorlessly laughed, "because I remember brushing my teeth for an entire night and couldn't even start to get the stench of whiskey out of my mouth. And I don't drink whiskey. To me… you look pretty damn gay."

Karofsky nervously flicked his eyes around, and Blaine could see that he'd touched something he shouldn't have, "I don't know what you're talking about, Ladyboy. Stop lying that I kissed you just because you like me."

"Karofsky, I couldn't like you less." Blaine admitted casually, "Does that bother you? Because it seems like you're very into kissing me. You threaten to kiss Kurt all the time but you never do. You're afraid to because you know I'll shove something up your ass and it definitely won't be anything like a dildo, so you take it out on me. Is that why you kiss me all the time? Because I think that's the reason. You're afraid of touching Kurt because you know if you do there won't be anything left of you except that sperm you leaked into Brittany to get her knocked up—"

In seconds Karofsky broke down and rammed Blaine up against the counter much to Santana's disapproval as she shouted something in Spanish, but Blaine was deafened by anything when a fist smacked into the left side of his face, then a pair of lips crushed over his. A pounding in his head alarmed him into awareness, and before even a moment of time passed he shoved Karofsky away from him, only to hear a guttural scream, "I'm going to kill you and that faggy assed boyfriend, Anderson!"

"Stop it!" screamed another voice from behind Karofsky, and Blaine's heart utterly stopped beating as Kurt all but leapt onto Karofsky's back, punching at him with as much strength as he could summon. "Stop hurting him! He's never done anything to you—!" Kurt gasped when Karofsky threw a fist over his shoulder and nailed him in the majority of his mouth, causing Kurt to drop to the floor.

"Hey!" Santana shrieked, the only one with any kind of normal perspective in this, "Karofsky, _get the fuck out!_" She raced around the counter to reach Kurt, who had covered his heavily bleeding mouth with his hand and tears streaked down his face from the shock of it.

Karofsky backed away as he realized the amount of damage he'd done, and Blaine shoved him back harshly, "_Leave!_" he screamed, ignoring his pulsating eye. Waiting until Karofsky raced toward the door, Blaine dropped down beside of a panting Kurt who looked completely shocked, and helplessly he crawled into Blaine's arms. "Okay, okay…" Blaine breathed out, his body relaxing once he held Kurt in his arms, rocking him softly back and forth while Pavarotti hopped into his lap, "Shh… Everything's okay."

Kurt pressed his face into Blaine's shirt, his entire body shaking hard enough to drive himself into a coma. Beside him Santana jerked Blaine's face around and she swore lowly, "It looks bad. I'm going to see if we have any safety kits in the back room."

She rose and strode away from them, leaving Kurt and Blaine on the floor as Blaine attempted to comfort him as best he could, when really he needed just as much comforting. Karofsky was getting worse, if that was even possible. And his threat to kill both of them didn't sound in vain. Ignoring what lengths he might have to take to keep Kurt safe in the future, Blaine lifted Kurt's pale face to examine it and he winced at the amount of blood flowing from his busted lip, the skin raw, enflamed and pulsating as it swelled larger than normal. Salty tears dripped onto it, so Blaine wiped those away as best as he could and whispered to him, "Shh… Don't cry, baby. Santana?"

"I'm coming," she hollered back at him, then emerged a moment later and winced at Kurt's lip, "Damn. Hold on, I think I have a pad to press to it."

"Blaine, I can't get stitches," Kurt shook his head, clearly panicked, "We have to perform in front of the entire school next Monday and I won't be able to sing with stitches—"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted him, his concern more revolving around the busted lip, "Kurt, hush. Okay, baby? We'll figure something out. Hold still." Taking a pad from Santana, Blaine touched it to Kurt's lip and his heart recoiled as Kurt flinched from the mere brush of cloth.

"Blaine, it's going to need more pressure to stop the bleeding," Santana advised him, "And he's going to have to get stitches. The cut's way too deep; it'll scar without them."

More tears leaked from Kurt's round, blue eyes, the color in them turning a bright turquoise from the salt. "Please, there has to be something else—"

"Kurt," Blaine censored a little more harshly than he first expected, then snapped at Santana, "Get my phone out of my pocket. Call the second speed dial. It's Kurt's dad. Tell him we're going to the hospital if he wants to meet us there."

"You might want to get your eye checked out, too," Santana suggested, "It looks really bad, Blaine—"

"I don't give a damn about my eye, Santana," Blaine snarled at her, "Kurt's lip is busted. There might be an internal fracture. Baby, keep your mouth closed. I don't want you moving it for anything."

"Wait," Kurt pleaded anxiously, "What about Born This Way? I had the main part in that—I can't just drop out of it."

"Well, knowing Berry, she'd happily snatch it up for you." Santana snorted sardonically, only to silence again when Blaine shot her a glare fatal enough to kill her on the spot.

* * *

Blaine slammed through the office doors much to the surprise of Schuester, Sue Sylvester and Principal Figgins, not giving a damn what idiotic debate about the Cheerios losing money he'd interrupted. Kurt stayed right on his heels, the same Kurt who he'd held hands with all while Kurt cried as the doctor stuck a needle and thread through his lip, and the same Kurt who he'd rocked in his arms until he slowly fell asleep to the sound of his own tears. Karofsky had hurt Kurt, and Blaine was out for revenge. Not the kind of revenge where Karofsky simply got kicked out of school. No, he wanted worse done to him. He wanted him to feel the pain he'd caused Kurt. Only a hundred times over. But first he needed to take care of something more important. Kurt himself.

Each of the people in the room cast curious glances at the pair of them, but Schuester was the first to move as he whispered, "Oh, my gosh. What happened to your faces? Kurt, are those stitches? You know we have Born This Way to perform next Monday."

Kurt bitterly nodded his head, remaining silent as Blaine prowled forward and without offering small talk he blurted, "I want moved into every one of Kurt's classes and I won't take no for an answer. And I want David Karofsky fifty feet away from him no matter what the situation. If you don't abide by what I say I'm suing this school for child abuse and endangerment and I'll suck every penny out of this place."

Figgins, who had never seen a student so lethal—not even Tina in her vampire form, leaned back in his chair, "I'm sorry but we can't just switch your classes, Blaine. You've been in this grade for over nine weeks—"

"_I don't give a fuck anymore!_" Blaine screamed, tears piercing the backs of his eyes. Kurt wedged himself into a corner quietly, still unable to believe the display Blaine was putting on just for him. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or startled. "I've done everything to get David Karofsky out of this school and none of you listen! And I can't switch over with Kurt because the only school within twenty freaking miles of here is Dalton Academy and I'm about to be raising a baby and can't travel far and Burt's dad doesn't have the kind of money to keep his own kid safe! Kurt isn't safe here anymore! Is his face not enough proof for you? Karofsky wants Kurt dead. I don't know how I can make that even clearer. So if you're not going to take Karofsky out of here, I want to know that at least I can protect him every second of the day. So put me in his classes. Flunk me out of the ones I'm doing now, make me do extra work to get caught up, _I don't care._ But I'm not going to be told no."

"Is this true, Kurt?" Schuester glimpsed at Kurt, who demurely nodded his head and wrapped his arms around himself. Blaine held his hand out for Kurt, and the quieter boy slipped from the wall and into Blaine's arms. Schuester whipped around to Figgins, "Figgins, I know Kurt and Blaine and neither of them are liars. If they say Karofsky's been harassing them, then I'll believe them. We have been having trouble with him this year. Thanks for letting us know, Blaine."

"Mr. Anderson," Figgins sighed and popped his knuckles, "If this is true, then I wish I could do something for you. But the school board will let Mr. Karofsky right back in. Punching a student will get a week's worth of suspension, but unless the school board sees a physical death threat, there is practically no proof. We can keep an eye on Mr. Karofsky, though—"

"I don't want that," Blaine shook his head, "I want in Kurt's classes. I don't want him leaving my sight for any second of the school day. Karofsky's completely out of control. I think he's on drugs. He's going to kill Kurt if he gets him alone at all. Like I said, if what I say doesn't happen, I'm taking Kurt to another school and using my brother's money, and I'll sue you."

"We could have a teacher walk him to class everyday—"

"I'm not bargaining here," Blaine leaned closer to him, "I'm telling you what's going to happen. Kurt's life isn't something I bargain with."

Pushed into a corner, Figgins helplessly nodded his head, "Alright, Mr. Anderson. If it makes you feel better, you'll start your new classes on Monday, but I expect hard work out of you."

A sudden breath hurtled into his tightened lungs, the first he'd taken in what seemed like ten minutes, and his chest expanded as it donned on him that he'd gotten his way. "Thank you," he breathed out heavily, releasing the built up air inside of him, "Thank you so much. Kurt, you want to go home now?"

"Blaine, hold on," Schuester gripped onto his shoulder firmly, "Kurt, you won't be able to sing on Monday, will you?"

Kurt shook his head, still on his silent treatment because he didn't want to jostle his stitches and make his time without singing longer and more painful than it had to be. Schuester dishearteningly shook his head, "Maybe I can ask Rachel to fill in for you. It'll be quite the loss for the entire school. Maybe next time, though."

Nipping onto the side of his lip that wasn't busted, Kurt leaned into Blaine as a signal that he'd wearied of this drama and simply wanted to go home. And Blaine couldn't deny how good a warm bath with Kurt in his arms sounded then curling up in bed with their naked bodies intertwined. That actually sounded pretty damned good, considering they hadn't had much intimate time since the fight, seeing as Kurt was always sore and Burt burst in right at the wrong moments to complain about the lack of protection at schools these days.

Well, Blaine was done playing the victim. He was ready to be the fighter.


	35. Back to Black

Author's note: Hey, readers. This chapter is an idea I've been playing around with for just about a week now, and it isn't a happy chapter in the least. Just thought I'd warn readers that this chapter has this story's first trigger in it and there will be a rape scene. If you're not comfortable with that, I don't actually describe it happening. The scene is skipped over, but basically the last half of this chapter revolves entirely around it. Anyway, I have a poll up on my profile for a question about an upcoming chapter. If you'd like to participate and give your opinion in that, feel free to vote. I love all of you and hope you stay with this story even after this chapter! I love both Kurt and Blaine and don't want to hurt either of them, but I felt like this was necessary. If you have any questions or comments about this chapter or suggestions for upcoming ones, as always, review or PM. I love getting and reading every one of them! Arkell26, the fifty sixth sentence in this chapter is dedicated to you. JMarieAllenPoe and SilverWhiteDragon, the rest of this chapter is dedicated to both of you just because you're both so involved with this story and this chapter is my most upsetting to date. I love you both and really hope you keep confidence in me after this :) To the rest of my readers, my brother is getting back from Marine Boot Camp and I'll be in Parris Island, SC for a few days, and then we'll either have him at home for ten days or twenty four days. Since I won't have Wi-Fi in SC and will want to spend time with him once he's home, I'll probably be going on a hiatus for a few weeks after this. I'll still be writing the chapters, but not posting them for a while. I'll be on here every now and then, though, so don't hesitate to PM if you have a question during my hiatus. Once again, I love you all and hate doing this to you, but I'll always love Klaine even through the darker chapters.

Disclaimer: RM owns Glee. I do not and never will. Also don't own Taking Chances at the end of the chapter. I mixed up the lyrics a little because they fit the chapter better that way, but otherwise own nothing in this chapter. I really want to own Pavarotti, though!

* * *

"Kurt, can I talk to you for a second?" Muttered a voice from behind him as he poked his nose out of the curtains and grinned at the herd of students gathered in the bleachers, chatting idly and attempting to hit Principal Figgins with paper airplanes as he droned on about how mashed potatoes were for eating, not for wearing. Although his doctor had given him special orders to not open his mouth wide—which had really turned out to disappoint Blaine, he thought with an extra blush—or jump around as to not loosen or stretch his stitches, he still enjoyed the thrill of any performance he could get involved in. Schuester had given him permission to simply stand on stage and do the backup vocals, quiet cooing and crooning that wouldn't bother his mouth too much, while Rachel stole the show. He specifically said that a song wasn't a song unless he played some kind of role in it, which flattered him all too kindly.

Peeling away from the curtain, Kurt spun around to face Schuester and his other classmates. They each showed off their shirts proudly, all of them with an insecurity that they'd been born with, except for Blaine who had isolated himself from the group of them and stared off into the distance as though deep in thought, his expression grim. He'd been like that since Karofsky's attack at the store, pushing people away and even snapping at Kurt a few times. Kurt had even felt him slipping out of bed sometimes at night to vanish into the bathroom, and after peeking in on him once he was startled to find Blaine slumped down on the floor with his head buried his in his lap, his shoulders shaking as he cried softly to himself. Kurt knew it was mainly from the stress Karofsky's threats had put on him and the fact that he felt paranoid if Kurt even left his side to walk ten feet away. It was also Coop's constant calls to update Blaine on the baby which he wasn't even meant to be raising, and it also appeared to be that magazine that always hung over Blaine's head. All it would take was one person from school to spot the magazine in the stores and figure it out that it was Blaine, and Blaine would be outted. Luckily Kurt had called Dakota Stanley the minute he found out and asked for another magazine to be published immediately to replace the one with Kurt on the shelves, and Stanley had eagerly obliged to him and out came a magazine featuring J-Lo and her new beau.

Their sex life had gone done the drain in a matter of days, and Blaine hadn't really touched him ever since Valentine's Day—the one day of the year set aside for romancing, when all it had done for them was push their relationship in the opposite direction. The best Kurt got out of Blaine was a good morning kiss to the forehead, and a kiss goodnight on his lips. But sometimes not even those, as when he woke up Blaine was already awake and typing away at his laptop, too distracted to even notice Kurt. Kurt hoped this was just a phase Blaine was going through to get over what had happened with Karofsky, and that it wasn't resentment to Kurt for putting him through this. After all, this technically was all Kurt's fault. Blaine had been straight and king of the school when he'd found him, and now he was half bi-curious and a glee club loser because of Kurt. And, of course, after the resentment came the regret. And then the hatred. And before Kurt could actually grasp the situation, Blaine would have lost interest in him and moved onto one of the cheerleaders—a female cheerleader—and started climbing his way back up to the top. All while leaving Kurt behind.

"…Kurt?" Schuester waved his hand in front of Kurt's face, alarming him from his horrid thoughts of losing Blaine, "Kurt, are you okay? You've seemed out of it these past few days."

"No," Kurt managed a meek smile, hoping to keep his personal problems with Blaine out of the teacher's hair, "I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Okay," Schuester nodded his head, nudging him away from the curtain, "Listen… uh… We have a little problem. And I was hoping I could talk to you about it. You know how we were going to give your part to Rachel?" After Kurt nodded his head, Schuester continued with a hint of concern in his voice—the kind of concern that a teacher always had after seeing that all his students had failed a test, "Well, Rachel's refusing to do Born This Way. It's something about her deeming her fellow pupils not worthy of her voice, and that she's afraid that putting on a show for them will damage her vocals for West Side Story when Carmen Tibideaux might be present and her singing really matters."

"Who will do my part, then?" Kurt murmured in true concern, catching Blaine's eye from across the room. Blaine gazed at him blankly for a second, and then a small, half-hearted smile curved his lips and he managed a wink at Kurt. Not sure what to think of that, Kurt replied with his own grin and wink he hoped meant a cute way of saying _I love you so much and you're mine forever_ rather than _I'm about to dump your sorry ass for getting me into this so get ready for the heartache._

"I was hoping that Blaine could do it," Schuester admitted, pausing in the center of the room so Kurt stopped with him and spun to face him. "But, honestly, Kurt, I'm concerned. Blaine's attitude has been… less than exemplary. I mean, I know Blaine isn't that outspoken anyway but he used to always at least give one comment or suggestion throughout class. And he'd always have his arm around you. Now all I can get out of him is a few bitter words here and there and he's not acting like himself. I've never seen him this angry, and he even asked for his shirt to say that he's angry, so he's obviously not denying it. You don't have to tell me if it's too personal, but are you and Blaine having problems at home? I know that living with someone can add stress to a relationship. The first month that Emma moved in with me we constantly fought, and I honestly thought I'd leave her at one point. Actually, Kurt, by now I thought I'd have him putting something about liking boys on his shirt… like you did."

Kurt flicked his eyes down to his _Likes Boys_ shirt he'd had ordered in one size too small just to appear more slimming under the spotlights. His shirt was the last thing Blaine had flirted with him about, when he'd modeled it for Blaine receiving a quiet chuckle and Blaine's murmur of, _"Are there other boys I should know about, sweetheart?"_

Kurt had grinned at him, _"No, there's only you. But if I put _Likes Blaine_ on my shirt, everyone would complain that my crush on you wasn't something I was born with."_

"_Well, you do believe that we were always meant to be together, don't you?"_ Blaine had whispered to him, and then tugged Kurt down on top of him, and that had been the last time they'd made love before their relationship had plummeted.

"You thought he'd come out?" Kurt whispered lowly, not wishing to attract any eavesdroppers. "No… I mean, I don't know if he'll come out or not or if he's even gay. I meant… no, we're not having relationship problems. I guess Blaine's been distant since what happened with Karofsky, but… I hope he's not upset with me."

"You mean this behavior is because of Karofsky?" Schuester added with just as low a voice, "Oh, jeez. No, Kurt, I don't think any of this is because of you. Unless something happened at home, the last I've really talked to Blaine was in the office and that's when he asked to be in your classes. It could be Karofsky bothering him. Kurt, I'm usually always in here during the day, but… I want you to come talk to me if you start seeing signs that Karofsky and Blaine might fight. This could be more serious than we first thought. One of them could get seriously injured if they fought, or even killed. I know a few of the football team members have histories of bringing knives to school. Promise me you'll warn me if they start bad mouthing? Don't try to handle this on your own."

"I promise," Kurt nodded his head, "But… What do you mean by killed? You think Karofsky will kill Blaine?"

Schuester shook his head, "No, there's a slim chance. It just worries me, Kurt. I've never seen two students react so negatively to each other, and I can see how protective Blaine is of you. He'll go to any lengths to keep you safe, and I know Karofsky doesn't have a good past with you. Don't worry about it, Kurt. It's probably not going to happen." Lifting his head up, Schuester waved at Blaine who had been unblinkingly staring at them for the past ten minutes, his face alert and his ears perked up to catch any of their conversation that he could. "Blaine, can I talk to you for a minute? You're not in trouble."

Blaine rose from his chair and strode across the room, drawing in the attention of Finn and Puck who had been giggling over their shirts like childish buffoons. After all, _Can't Dance_ and _I'm With Stupid_ could be found as quite funny if looked at the right way. Oblivious to the tension in the air, Finn and Puck cat called and hooted after Blaine—not to be rude, but trying to pull something funny as his friends, unknowing that Blaine was anything but friendly these days.

Reaching Kurt and Schuester, Blaine sidled up next to Kurt and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, drawing him to his chest. Relief washed through Kurt's heart at the loving touch that seemed so simple to other couples but meant the world to him, and he pressed himself into Blaine while ducking his head down into Blaine's chest and wrapping his arms around him. Blaine's heart thundered against his ear, and he closed his eyes to focus completely on the soothing rhythm.

"Is everything okay?" Blaine muttered, brushing his fingers through Kurt's hair and locking eyes with Schue.

Interrupted by an explosion of applause from the bleachers just from outside the curtain, Schuester hollered noisily to the glee club, "Five minutes, guys! Blaine, I know you spend the most time around Kurt, so I'm asking you to do me a major favor. Sing Kurt's parts. Has Kurt sang them around you?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded his head, clutching Kurt to his body tightly enough to never let a single breeze of air through their bodies, but it still wasn't tight enough to Kurt, "He sang them every morning in the car. What happened to Rachel doing them?"

"Rachel's… not available," Schuester muttered while popping one shoulder, "Let's just leave it at that. I don't have time to explain it now." Expanding his focus to the entire glee club still goofing off, Schuester shouted, "Okay, guys, get in your places! The curtain's going up in three! Kurt, you can go stand off to the side where they won't be dancing. If you want you can just sway your hips a little so you fit in with the group for the most part. Guys, I want you to look out for Kurt! No one maul him over!"

Kurt scurried off to the left side of the stage, much to Blaine's aggravation as he released the boy, but before he could find his place in front Schuester grasped his arm and tugged him back, "Hey, wait. Blaine, I want you to talk to me after the performance. Meet me in the choir room."

Shrugging Schuester off in annoyance, Blaine whipped his head around to where Kurt stood off to the sidelines with Finn right behind him like a brick wall for protection. Suddenly Schuester hurried out of the line of sight of the bleachers and each of them held their breath as Figgins mumbled into the microphone something about a very special performance from the New Directions. Blaine briefly thought over his new lyrics seconds before the curtains rose, having only one part before the switch-up, something about being orient or Lebanese.

And that was the exact second he realized nearly all of his lyrics revolved around being gay.

Before Blaine really had a chance to think about anything, the curtains flew apart and at least three spotlights focused in on Blaine, who had the first solo. Startled by the burning lights, Blaine's eyes scanned over the impatiently expectant crowd, and he caught sight of Santana near the front row, and immediately she waved happily at someone on the stage. Blaine assumed it was Brittany, but it could have also been him considering they'd started to find common ground at the store the other day, and because she'd helped Kurt, and Blaine couldn't admit to hating anyone who bothered with Kurt in a weak time.

His eyes traced over the very top row, where the ridiculously immature hockey players banged on the bleachers and whistled at the New Directions, only to get hushed by one of the ninth grade history teachers glowering at them. On the other side of the bleachers at the top resided the football players, Blaine's old clique, and his eyes instantly zoned in on Karofsky, who appeared to be eyeballing something—or someone—on the opposite side of the stage as Blaine and whispering to Azimio, the latter nodding to every word he said.

While the initial music burst from the overhead speakers and all around the stage, Blaine followed his gaze to where Kurt stood shaking his hips enthusiastically to the music, clearly enjoying the spunky beat. Returning his gaze to Karofsky, Blaine waited until Karofsky turned his head slightly and met Blaine's eyes in return, his lips peeling back over his teeth in an animalistic manner. Blaine's heart coiled up coldly in his chest and he resisted lunging off the cage and rushing up the stairs to smash Karofsky's fucked up head into the wall by the mere thought of not wanting Kurt to see that side of him. Lately he'd found himself getting sicker and sicker from nightmares of Karofsky completely harassing Kurt. It seemed to be happening everywhere, when he would zone off in math class, at lunch time when Kurt was discussing new fashions with Mercedes and allowed Blaine to get inside of his own head, and pretty much any time when what was happening around him wasn't sudden or urgent.

And any hope of getting any sexy time in with Kurt was a total joke, not because he found it any less mind blowing but the second he got Kurt naked and underneath him it hit him like a hammer across the head—that Karofsky might just get Kurt in that position one day, and he would scream and cry for Blaine, and Blaine wouldn't be able to reach him. So, before he could take care of Kurt properly, he needed to take care of Karofsky.

Karofsky needed to be out of the picture, and he wasn't sure how he would go about that, but he wanted him out of Kurt's life. Permanently.

Suddenly, his fists clenched as a surge of electricity zapped his skin, and he grinded his teeth together. _I'm not your punching bag anymore, and if I want to sing that gay is most definitely okay, you're going to have to tear my teeth out before you stop me._ Jerking his head toward the crowd, Blaine opened his mouth and the words poured out of him like lava, and before he knew it Tina and Mercedes joined him at his sides and broke into the next few lyrics, the three of them pacing the stage powerfully, each stride more confident than the last.

The rest of the New Directions stepped forward at that point, joining Tina, Mercedes and Blaine at the front of the stage. Combined they were the family they'd always been meant to be, with Blaine leading the charge against whoever wanted to cast them aside as losers. Finn suddenly nudged Kurt over to Blaine, and the lyrics returned to Blaine as he wrapped an arm around Kurt, Kurt shooting his leg up to rest it on Blaine's shoulder and swinging himself back until his hair brushed the floor. He echoed Blaine's lyrics briefly, righting himself again and circling Blaine like a hungered hawk, his hair sexily messy and his face electrifying as he dared the audience to mock him or his group again.

Holding his eyes to Karofsky's, Blaine smirked boldly at the group of football players who, during Booty Camp, wouldn't know what hit them, and without a second thought he decided that now was the time to attack.

Now that their leader was weakened by his own mistakes, and he could take charge of them.

* * *

"I'm glad you could come," Kurt murmured to the boy across the room, his teeth chattering the only sign of his nervousness. He clamped his jaws together in hope to not let him on that he was frightened, and he worked a gentle smile onto his lips. "Thank you. Do you mind sitting for a few minutes?"

The boy only replied with a nod, throwing himself down in one of the chairs near the stage, where Kurt stood proudly, in his one true home. "I have a song for you," Kurt murmured to him, and the boy arched a brow at him, genuinely curious as to what Lady had to say to him and why his Buttboy boyfriend wasn't in the picture for once. "I'd like to sing it for you… if you'll hear me out. Karofsky?" Kurt shook his head a second later, "David," he corrected himself, "I know we've had our differences in the past. And I know you don't like Blaine. If you wouldn't mind, may I have your perspective on everything? Since the beginning—when I first came to McKinley. Please?"

Karofsky leaned back in his chair, considering taking Hummel up on his offer. Instead, he decided to make this challenging—just because it amused him to see Kurt squirm with those fucking awesome hips of his writhing around as he did so. With Kurt so up high, maybe he'd even get a peek up those pretty little panties of his. "First of all, I do dislike Blaine. But that doesn't mean I don't want to fuck him. The only reason I ever kept him around was because I'm turned on by him. If he asked me for a blow job, I'd give it to him." He had to admit that there was something about Blaine that got to him, something even more than Hummel did. Maybe it was the fact that Blaine would be strong and powerful in bed, responsive to everything, while Hummel reminded him of those petty little girls who laid under the man expecting to be worshipped.

At Kurt's expecting expression, Karofsky blew out and tilted his head toward the ceiling, "Fine, Hummel. I'll tell you. I'm as gay as you are. My first kiss was with a boy but when I met Blaine I wanted him. So I took him in and turned him into the kind of guy I could hang out with. Then you came into the picture and I admit, I'm just as turned on by you, but you piss me off, Hummel. You got that reaction out of Blaine that I never did. Happy?"

"Yes," Kurt admitted softly, "And… I'm sorry I took Blaine from you, but I love him, David. That's something you would have never felt for him. But why did you make love to Brittany if you're gay?"

"Make love?" Karofsky snorted, unsure whether to be amused or concerned, "No, no, Hummel. Get your head out of the romance novels. I didn't do anything but _fuck _her. It was a mistake. I got drunk because I wanted to fuck you so badly at homecoming so I imagined it was you. You wore that slutty little dress like the trans you are and it does things to a guy's head, Hummel. You think Blaine is so good to you? When he fucks you, it's all indecent thoughts in his head. Sex is filthy from a guy's perspective. It's just sex. I know you don't understand that because you're more woman than you are man—if you're man at all—but Blaine doesn't think anything of you except that you're a skanky prostitute who gives him head. That's the honest truth, Kurt."

Stiffening slightly, Kurt tried to remain calm all while processing that this was the first time he'd ever heard Karofsky use his first name, "Blaine loves me. He's good to me. He's never treated me disrespectfully."

"You don't know what goes on in his head—"

"He loves me!" Kurt insisted, raising his voice for what might have been the first time in his life. "I'm sorry that you've never been loved, David. You don't know what it looks like but I'm telling you that you could one day if you would drop the act. I know how scary coming out is—I've been through it. But it gets easier and I think you would be happier. You could find a boyfriend and love and it wouldn't be as hard for you anymore—"

"Why do you care if I find love?"

"Because…" Kurt took a step back, his feet light on the stage floor, "I think everyone deserves it. But I know it isn't easy to find. Besides, I think it's time you got over Blaine and I. We're not leaving each other and everyone in this situation is miserable with things staying the way they are. Including you. And I know you could be happy with someone else if you would simply search."

"What if I like fucking you up?" Karofsky leaned slightly forward, "I appreciate the kind gesture, Hummel, but I'm not finished. Blaine needs to pay for leaving me. And I plan on making him pay in full. And eventually I'll get to you. I want to fuck you, Kurt."

Kurt swallowed thickly but ignored that last comment, fluttering his eyes shut and humming out the first note to the song. He'd decided on Taylor Swift's Mean simply because that song summed Karofsky up all too well, and he stepped toward the front of the stage, gaining courage as he went. His natural voice stretched the song an octave higher than it was originally planned, but he nailed every note perfectly. Trilling out each word, Kurt popped open his eyes and held out his hand for a truce, a hopeful smile curving his lips. Maybe this was the kind of song Karofsky needed to hear; maybe he needed to learn that he couldn't simply maul Kurt down with his vicious hitting and punching and swearing.

Maybe it was time for Karofsky to finally take the high road and get himself a better life, all while leaving Kurt and Blaine alone.

To his surprise Karofsky rose to his feet, also holding out his hand and Kurt kneeled down, eager to accept an apology. Cutting the song off halfway, Kurt whispered to him, "I can help you find new friends. You could even join glee club and see if you get along with anyone there."

Karofsky smirked at him and enclosed his hand around Kurt's much smaller one, his eyes gazing into Kurt's round, blue ones. _So sweet and naïve,_ he thought to himself, _Blaine hasn't told him much about me, has he?_ Jerking his arm back, he heard Kurt briefly gasp as he tumbled off the stage and onto the floor, and staring down at his pathetically fragile and feminine form as Kurt covered his mouth with his hand, scooting away from Karofsky, Karofsky pulled his leg back then rammed his foot into Kurt's thighs. Kurt squeaked and tried to tear away from him, his face revealing the same face victims always had when they thought they'd killed the bad guy but then he got right back up again.

Dropping to the floor beside of Kurt as he rolled onto his stomach and anxiously pulled away from Karofsky, Karofsky snatched his foot and dragged him right back to where he could bend down and whisper in his ear, "I'm going to kill you."

No one ever heard a scream, because there wasn't one.

* * *

"Blaine," Schuester yanked his head up from his paperwork, noticing the near silent click of the door parting and knowing the exact second later who stood in his doorway. Despite the majority of his students who marched around the halls and eagerly preferred destroying silence rather than building it, Blaine snuck through the halls at Kurt's heels as silently as a shadow. While Kurt knew how to strike up a good conversation, Blaine waited for the conversation to come to him. "You did great performing. You looked comfortable up there. I'm proud of you."

His only reply was shattering silence as Blaine crept into the room, so he continued, "Where is Kurt at? Is he okay to be alone?"

"He's with Finn and Puck," Blaine muttered, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, "He's okay, but they're meeting me at my car in ten minutes. Did you want anything else?" His tone didn't waver from matter-of-factly, assuring Schuester that he was willing to accept a conversation, but not full-heartedly participate.

"Yeah," Schuester scooted his folder aside and focused fully on Blaine, drinking in his bloated cheeks from a lack of appetite and therefore a malnourishment of food, and his hollow, bruised eyes. His lip was slightly reddened from being chewed, and Schuester noticed his fingernails subtly and unconsciously clawing at the soft spot under his fingers. "You'll want to stop digging," he pointed out, "I can see dried blood under your fingernails."

Blaine's muscular, browned hands flexed, fingers curling then uncurling. His jaw clenched and ticked, "Bad habit. Is that all?"

"No," Much to Blaine's disappointment, Schuester gestured to the chair across his desk, "I need to talk to you about something that's concerning me lately. You're not acting like yourself, Blaine, and everyone's noticing. Kurt talked to me about something between the two of you, Blaine."

Alerted, Blaine threw himself down in the chair and his stomach tightened and twisted, "What did he tell you? Is he okay?"

"Yes, for now," Schuester shrugged a shoulder, "He talked about Karofsky. He's scared, that's evident enough. But he's also worried you two are growing apart… or that you're growing away from him."

Blaine shook his head, his hands squeezing the edge of the chair, "Kurt knows I love him. Our feelings for each other have never been a problem. I mean, yeah, we bicker. Who doesn't? But we've never… _fought._ And when we do bicker, we always talk it out and I make sure he's okay afterward. I've never purposefully hurt him."

"I know, Blaine," Schuester promised him, "but it seems like… you've been focusing in so much on protecting Kurt that you're forgetting about him. He's going to start to feel insecure. Just… make sure he feels constantly loved."

Slouching in his chair, Blaine dug his teeth into his bottom lip, considering what he'd been told. Obviously he thought of Kurt as more than just a one night joy ride, but had he really been so worried about keeping Kurt away from Karofsky that he'd been keeping Kurt from himself? Massaging his fingers against his temple in wondering if Kurt really did feel abandoned and unwanted by the one man who always wanted him, Blaine suddenly jerked his head up as Schuester's hand cupped his arm. "Don't feel like a total ass, Blaine. All guys need help with relationships. And Kurt's a very forgiving person—"

"Mr. Schuester!" screamed a voice from down the hall, startling both Blaine and Schuester into whipping around to face the door as it ripped open to reveal a panting and frazzled Finn. "Mr. Schuester, it was an accident! We didn't mean to—!"

And that was the exact second Blaine knew something was wrong with Kurt and Karofsky, because panic and Kurt and Karofsky never went together under any circumstances.

Ever.

Rising shakily from his chair, Blaine cocked a single brow at Finn and whispered, "Finn… where is Kurt?"

Finn braved himself to meet Blaine's eyes, his voice one pitch higher than it should have been, "I'm so sorry, Blaine. He said he was going to the bathroom and we thought he'd be okay—"

"Finn." Blaine's voice quivered sharply, "Tell me where he is."

"I have him," Puck's gruffer voice interrupted and cascaded through the air like a twenty pound weight, his foot kicking aside the door and exposing the writhing, whimpering body in his arms.

Kurt's perfect hair plastered to his forehead, and blood dripped from his clenched palm, his skin paler than normal and one of his eyes completely blackened as though he'd been punched multiple times. Blaine's knees weakened and he nearly collapsed had it not been for Schuester's desk to catch his balance on. He listened to Kurt's incoherent mewls for Blaine to come and hold him, his voice breathy from how desperately he panted for air. "Shit," Blaine lunged toward him, nearly knocking Puck down. Bowing over Kurt, Blaine anxiously cupped his face, "Shh… Kurt. Kurt, I'm here. _What happened?_" That last he growled out in Finn's direction, who he'd given clear instructions to _never_ leave Kurt alone.

Puck shook his head, answering instead, "We don't know. We heard banging in the auditorium and ran in to find him like this. Karofsky wasn't there."

Noticing Kurt's whitened fist he clenched and unclenched to cease the flow of blood, Blaine gripped the fist and thumbed his small, fragile fingers, "Sweetheart, open your palm. Come on, baby. Open for me."

Sensing Blaine's muffled, tenor voice in the back of his head as if he were drowning under water, Kurt carefully peeled it open and flashed them all with a bloody and sharp _D_ carved jaggedly into his palm. Deep enough to permanently scar.

Deep enough for Karofsky to forever leave his mark on him.

Finn inhaled curtly and brushed his finger over the wound, causing Kurt to cry out and jerk his hand away. Blaine shot Finn a damning look, "Take him to my car. Now. And don't leave him this time."

"Blaine, wait," Schuester snatched his sleeve before he could make a move, "I legally can't permit you to hurt another student. I'll bring him into the office in the morning and talk things over with Figgins—"

Blaine's heart recoiled against the idea of doing anymore talking in the most civil of manners, and that Schuester—the one person he'd thought was on his side—had even suggested it. Staggering toward the door, Blaine whispered gutturally, "I'm tired of talking. It does nothing and I can't let this happen again. You can't stop me no matter what you say."

* * *

Karofsky lowered into the auditorium chair toward the back and near the left side, tapping his foot against the metal not as a sign of nervousness, mainly because he knew what was going to happen. And Hummel had made things all too easy. Not only had he fallen straight into Karofsky's hands, he'd willingly done it. Silly boy. He could see why Blaine liked him; sweet, pretty, _naïve._ He'd fall for just about anything, which could be very advantageous to whoever ended up fucking him. But, even someone as sexy as Hummel to be a French model had his disadvantages. He was boring. Despite his outward shapeliness, his hobbies, pattern of life, even his way of speaking had no depth.

Blaine, however, was a series of firecrackers. From his deadly temper to his exotic features from his Filipino heritage, Blaine had every perk in the book. Feistiness, protectiveness, spontaneous attitude. And now he was even gay. It was just a shame he was gay for the wrong person.

Arching brows when the door behind him burst open—as he predicted—he casually listened to Blaine roar from the back of the room, "_What did you do to him?_"

Just as expected.

"If you're talking about sexually, nothing." Karofsky muttered honestly, "I want him to be willing the first time we kiss. Besides, as pretty as he normally is, seeing him moaning and writhing on the floor really doesn't turn me on—"

It took about a maximum of two seconds for a hand to shoot out of nowhere and grip into his collar. Nearly lifted right off his toes, Karofsky spat and coughed, "Blaine, wait! I'm trying to talk to you."

Blaine revealed no sign of setting him down anytime soon, and Karofsky tilted his head around to find Blaine's severe expression staring back at him. Although his cold eyes betrayed no mercy, the rest of him exposed a surprising vulnerability that traveled straight to his core. Blaine suddenly released Karofsky and shoved him back, his entire body shaking, "Can you tell me something?" his voice tinted the air weakly, "Karofsky… Why do you enjoy making me feel pain?"

"First of all, I don't like Hummel." Karofsky replied flatly, "He tore you away from me. He's a life sucker, Blaine. In order to fuck him you have to commit and shit—"

"I fell in _love _with him," Blaine countered defensively, "I'm ready to commit. I've never wanted anything more."

"So, are you admitting you're gay or not?"

Blaine held off for a few seconds on answering that, his eyes vacant for just a moment, then he whispered, "I don't know. Does it matter what sexuality I am?"

"Normally, yes," Karofsky strode in a circle around Blaine, who was too caught up in his thoughts to react, "But enough chit chat about Kurt. Let's face it, Blaine. I'm practically a permanent resident of this place for the next five months. Senior year is too short for teachers to bother with uncooperative students. They have those pesky freshmen to worry about. And we both know you don't have the time or money to go up to Dalton Academy. Besides, do you _really_ want Kurt in a _gay_ school, where he'll be surrounded by other _gays?_"

"Dalton isn't a gay school—" Blaine corrected monotonously, finally turning his head to follow Karofsky's pacing with his eyes.

"Secretly, it is, and you know it," Karofsky snickered, tangling a finger in one of Blaine's silky curls. He instantly tucked it behind his ear, baring his tanned neck. Karofsky wanted to stroke a pattern of veins under the surface with his tongue. He managed to hold his train of thought, "And when you find Kurt being dry humped by another horny gay, who the hell will be to blame? You for bad judgment. That's what happens when you put a gay like him in a room with other gays."

"He's not safe here because of you," Blaine reminded him, half in a trance, as though Karofsky had forgotten, "And I'd rather trust other gays in an anti-bullying school than you any day. You have no idea what I'll do to keep him safe."

"Oh, I think I have a good idea," Karofsky's fingers brushed against the small swell of Blaine's ass as he made another lap, but he stopped when Blaine whipped around and glared accusingly at him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Blaine stepped away from him, his mouth firm.

"Absolutely nothing," Karofsky tugged at Blaine's sleeve teasingly, "It's just an idea. I have a proposition for you. I'll give you my word that I'll never touch Kurt again."

"Why should I believe you?"

Karofsky pressed himself into Blaine's chest, and Blaine's fingers dug into his palms, cutting the skin instantly. The fresh burn jolted him to alertness, causing him to peel slightly away from Karofsky. "You can't trust my word," he played with his collar, and Blaine remained stiff in his state of stun, "But trusting me is better than assuming I'll leave him alone, right? If I agree to never lay a finger on Kurt again, you're going to fuck me."

Blaine ripped away from Karofsky, heart thundering and his skin whitened as pale as it could possibly be, "What?"

"You heard me," Karofsky assured him, touching one hand to Blaine's chest and the other to his own, "You're going to fuck me. If you expect to get what you want, return the favor. Unless you want Kurt to get hurt again… because I could make that happen." Drawing an alarmed Blaine to his chest, he nuzzled his lips against his ear and cupped one hand over Blaine's ass cheek, the other massaging the nape of his neck through his mass of curls, so turned on by the feel of his body against his. He'd be a great treat in bed. "Fuck me and I'll never hurt Kurt again."

* * *

Blaine didn't sleep that night.

Not knowing what he did.

Other than constantly bending over the toilet and vomiting his lunch out, Blaine contained his sorrows inside of him. He didn't want Burt finding out—and especially not Kurt. He never wanted Kurt finding out. Ever since Blaine had urged him into a bath and cared for him to his greatest ability, he'd been sound asleep, curled up into a tiny ball on the bed, while Burt had gone out to dinner with a few buddies.

Both of them unknowing of what Blaine had planned to do.

Shifting his weight around, Blaine carefully rolled onto his stomach and his body dipped into the bed, his shoulder brushing Kurt's naked arm. A zap of electricity jerked through his body and he lifted his head slightly from the pillow. Beside him Kurt lay with his back toward Blaine, his bandaged hand resting against his rib cage. At Blaine's touch he sighed sweetly in his sleep. Turning his head toward the alarm clock that, for once, hadn't been set, Blaine winced as the light flicked to two in the morning.

It was time.

He remained collapsed on the bed for what felt like hours, or maybe it was just seconds. Whipping his head back around, Blaine concentrated on steadying his breathing as he studied the smooth lines of Kurt's back, the blonds and browns woven through his hair, how small his shoulders were and how his back curved slightly towards his hips. Beautiful.

Normally people didn't sacrifice themselves to rape. Normally they would find help, talk to a teacher or a parent. But the closest Blaine had to the latter was Burt, and if he told Burt it would get around to Kurt, and he didn't want Kurt exposed to any of this. This was his and Karofsky's business. The only teacher Blaine had to depend on or attempt to trust was Schuester, and apparently even he wasn't capable of realizing that Kurt's life was in danger. And now, so was Blaine. He could have told Schuester about the rape threat in exchange for Kurt's life, but what proof of that would he have? As Figgins said, no proof meant no threat.

Blaine was left to take this one on his own. Not that he minded. He was used to that, actually.

Swinging his legs off the bed, Blaine pushed himself off of it and paced around it to Kurt's side. In sleep he looked even softer than he did when alert, so pretty and so pure. Extraordinarily so compared to what Blaine was about to face. Blaine's nose sparked with the heat of tears burning his eyes, and he knelt down beside of Kurt. Pavarotti had nuzzled into Kurt's neck as he slept, his feathers fluffed out and his break buried in his puffed out, vibrating chest. Kurt's blond lashes fluttered against his pink cheeks and he whimpered softly, sensing Blaine's heat nearby and writhing toward it. Blaine ducked down and kissed both of his eyelids, then brushed his lips over Kurt's shoulder. He wanted Kurt to have just one taste of him before he completely tainted himself.

"I love you," Blaine breathed against his skin, blanketing Kurt's bare shoulder in a puff of warmth that made him squirm and flex his fingers into the pillow as though hunting for Blaine to hold onto, and it was that second that Blaine knew he would do absolutely anything for Kurt.

Anything.

Running his fingers through Kurt's hair gently and humming softly in his ear, Blaine thought about the fact that Karofsky had managed to mask Kurt's hand with something that would hopefully heal and fade away with how Blaine had so thoroughly cleaned it, but Karofsky was going to mark Blaine with something that would forever be a part of him, whether he chose to ignore it or not all pointless because it would still be there, invisible or a tattoo on his skin.

But Blaine was willing to give it, because it was either his body for one night of pleasure… or Kurt. And that was it.

There was no hesitation in his mind as to what he would give.

* * *

Blaine's feet crashed to the ground and he queasily swayed, clenching his car door as his stomach swooned. Betrayed by his anxiety, perspiration cooled his skin when light, drifting breezes snapped it bitterly. Towering over him stood the Karofsky house, suddenly so much more brooding than it had ever been before. He remembered driving over here for sleepovers—the days when the house had represented freedom from his parents. Now he couldn't wait to escape. Stumbling toward the door, Blaine raised his hand to knock but considered that as a wake up call for Paul, and he was sure that if their rendezvous got delayed at all that hell would break out for Kurt.

As his mind drifted to sweet Kurt—his adorable giggle, that heartbreakingly beautiful smile, the way he scrunched his nose up when he was fully content, and how pretty he looked when he talked to Pavarotti—Blaine's knees quivered and threatened to drop him to the icy ground, his eyes swelling with blurring tears. _I'm cheating on the love of my life,_ played over and over in his head, and he started to stumble back when suddenly the door popped open, and Karofsky appeared in nothing more than a loose, white towel seconds away from dropping. Blaine only held down his lunch because he'd gagged it all out earlier.

"I knew you'd come," Karofsky ran a hand over Blaine's arm, startling him into jerking away, "Do you want something to drink? We have a lot of alcohol."

"Don't speak to me," Blaine shoved past him, rejecting the offer even though he knew being completely numb and not remembering anything would have been better for him. However, he wanted out of here as soon as possible, and a hangover would only delay him. "I want this over by four. And you'll give me your word. After this happens, you'll never touch Kurt again. If you do, I'll make your life hell."

"You have my word," Karofsky promised flippantly, his arms wrapping around him from behind, a startling hard-on pressing to his ass. Blaine's stomach squeezed and churned as Karofsky nuzzle into the curve of his neck and pressed a wet kiss to the skin, nibbling it flirtatiously.

Blaine pushed him away, "You word." He demanded irritably, "I want it said to my face."

"Fine," Karofsky yanked him back into his arms, "I won't touch Kurt. Now, fuck me."

Blaine ripped out of his grip and stalked toward the stairs that held Karofsky's room, only to be yanked back against Karofsky. "Stop putting this off!" Blaine growled and slugged him in the chest, "I want to get this over with!"

"Not in my room," Karofsky guided him into what appeared to be an unused guest room; he wondered why they didn't get any guests, "Don't go in my room. Let's do it in here."

Startled by Karofsky's sharp tone, Blaine clenched his fists and promised himself this would be over soon, that this was all for Kurt, and he cringed as the door clicked shut behind him. Suddenly his only escape was a window in the corner, and that looked locked. "What's in your room?" Blaine blurted, unable to help himself.

"Don't worry about it," Karofsky shrugged him off, nudging Blaine against the bed then enveloping him in his arms and pushing his mouth against his.

Sickly Blaine closed his eyes and zoned out the world around him, as it was the only way he could drown out his overflowing tears and quiet his pounding heart. He couldn't bare thinking of Kurt at a time like this, but it seemed to be the only thing that could keep him sane. If only he wasn't so preoccupied with wondering what Karofsky had hidden away in his room that wasn't there before.

And why he had the slightest feeling of paranoia that it had everything to do with Kurt.

* * *

Blaine watched his reflection. It stared back at him, as though damning him for what he'd done. And he sure as hell looked damned. He didn't even know if he could go home yet, for fear Kurt had awoken at the crack of dawn and might spot him. Breathing unsteadily, Blaine grazed his shaking, calloused fingers over his hollow cheeks, the underneath of his cheekbones sunken in despite the residing bloat that puffed them out slightly. His eyes glowed like embers waiting to burn out, dark, evident bruises swallowing them up. His hair hung limply around his face, the strands sticking to his cheeks from where he'd sobbed earlier as Karofsky pounded in and out of him.

He'd never cried so hard in his life—not out of pleasure, either. The white streaks of come drenching his chest didn't belong to him, and neither did the come flowing inside of him right at that second. None of it did. He hadn't climaxed.

His eyes flicked down to his bruised and battered body, purple and swollen handprints from Karofsky grasping his shoulders too firmly marking him. His nipples were enflamed and tight from Karofsky's torturous biting. Every rib in his stomach was visible due to how much weight he'd been dropping, his hips sharper, his thighs scrawny. His fingers traced patterns on his bony ass, and he spun around to peel his ass cheeks apart and examine the damage in the mirror. Blood coated his skin around his widened entrance, and he was so relieved he always topped Kurt, because it was pretty damn obvious he'd been a victim of anal sex. He returned to his torso, noticing the blood dripping from his skinned palms from how much and how horribly he'd unconsciously clawed at them. Licking his dry, bruised and bloodied lips, Blaine shifted his weight and the light caught his saliva dampened cock, bite marks clearly visible and bruising it darkly. Obviously Blaine was Karofsky's first gay sex victim, and he would never wish it on another man—especially not Kurt, and he was relieved it had been him instead.

He wanted to throw up.

He wanted to cry.

But instead he was numb, his emotions paralyzed. He'd been raped. That's all there was to it.

Checking the time on the clock, Blaine winced that it showed the exact time Kurt awoke—and if not Kurt, then Burt, who would probably throw him out if he thought the come on Blaine's chest wasn't his son's, and that Blaine was a cheater, no matter if Burt thought of him as a second son or not. And there was no way he could take a shower here.

Whatever the scenario, his chances of keeping Kurt seemed unlikely.

For a brief second he thought about running away. Going to California without telling Kurt goodbye, because he would follow Blaine. Blaine knew he would. Not a single cell in his body doubted that Kurt would go anywhere Blaine was. But Blaine was never meant to be with such a sweet, perfect boy. Not when Kurt's mind told him to go back to France, even if his heart belonged to Blaine now. He had to let him go discover his dreams. Eventually Kurt would forget about him. He could raise Coop's baby and hide away in California, keeping track of Kurt in the media until he was assured that he'd happily married to a decent and proper man without a scandalous history who would love him the right way.

But what about Karofsky?

If Blaine left, their deal would be moot and Kurt would have no one to protect him the way Blaine knew he needed protected. He just had no idea how he could keep something like this from Kurt when he felt so much guilt and it was gnawing away at him.

And how he would ever be able to make love to Kurt again, knowing he'd been with another man secretly.

He couldn't.

He wasn't right for Kurt anymore—he was far too tainted to complement someone so pure—and the thought broke his heart.

He shouldn't have felt so changed by rape, as he'd been with other people besides Kurt, but at least Kurt was safe now. That was all that mattered.

He was all that mattered.

Suddenly, his phone beeped in his pants pocket and startled him into snapping out of his hazy, dreamlike state where he couldn't even believe what had just happened wasn't a dream. Fearing that it might be Kurt, Blaine gagged as his stomach convulsed that he would eventually have to hold Kurt in his arms again and pretend this hadn't ever happened, and he stumbled over to his pants and knelt down by them. As expected, a text from Kurt awaited him, and before he could talk himself out of it he flipped it open, _Where are you? Are you okay? Please message me back. I love you._

_I can't lie to him,_ Blaine told himself over and over again, but he knew that he had to. He couldn't get Kurt involved in this. Guiltily his eyes blurred with tears as he opened a messaging screen, and he clumsily typed out the words, _Went to the store. Be back soon. I love you so much._

Pressing down on the send button, Blaine weakly collapsed down to the floor and pressed his cheek against the cold tiles, tears dripping frantically down his face. He curled himself up and hid his face against his sleeve, sobbing harder as his phone beeped again. Scooting it towards him, Blaine licked his lips and snapped it open, but to his surprise a text from Santana appeared. He thought about ignoring it, but then figured those petty insults they'd shared before were probably over and this could have been about the baby, so Blaine automatically opened it.

_Want to hang out?_ were the only words it said, but those were the words that gave him hope that even in a time of darkness he still had people who could possibly want him as a friend—unless Santana just wanted to talk about her money situation. But he still had the glee kids… most of them.

And he still had Kurt, the love of his life.

For now, at least.

* * *

"You look like shit," Santana commented to the five foot and eight inch man approaching her who could have only been Blaine. At least, she hoped it was Blaine. With a dark hood over his unkempt and dampened curls, a few of them smashed against his scraggy cheeks and his eyes about as bright as a midnight sky, Blaine hardly resembled the Blaine she knew from when she went to McKinley; attentive, golden eyes; his beautiful, Eurasian tan; and all of the weight he'd gained since meeting Kurt. He looked even worse than he had when they dated, and back then she'd even been worried about him. "Don't tell me you and Kurt broke up."

Blaine threw himself down in the chair opposite of hers, and she passed him a black coffee she'd ordered for him. Ignoring the wary gazes of college students typing on their laptops and couples simply enjoying the Lima coffee shop, the Lima Bean, Blaine brushed a curl off his forehead and drank heavily from the coffee. "No," he grumbled lowly once he set it back down, "I have a lot to tell you. But why'd you call me over here?"

"I was bored," she admitted, digging her phone out of her pocket and checking her blank messages for proof, "I didn't think I would miss McKinley but I do. Quinn's out shopping for baby food and I had no one else to call. Are you sure you're okay, Blaine? You look hung-over. And like you haven't slept in days. You seemed pretty happy before I left McKinley. Does it have something to do with Kurt? Come on, don't make me guess here."

"It has nothing to do with Kurt," Blaine said honestly, shrugging his shoulders, "Can you keep a secret, Santana?"

"Shoot," she encouraged, "I kept my sexuality a secret for my entire life. Besides, you're pretty much my only friend right now and I cannot be friendless. Santana Lopez does not do friendless."

"It's about Karofsky," Blaine blurted flatly, holding his eyes to the Lima Bean brand name on the side of his coffee cup. Even though he usually drank medium drips, he needed black coffee like he needed Karofsky to suffer. "And a little bit about Kurt. Have you noticed lately that Karofsky is getting… worse?"

"In bed or just in general?" Santana teased, "Because I've never tried him in bed. He'd be like getting suffocated by a baby walrus, but carry on."

Blaine's expression all but died, and he lowered his eyes again, "I mean… in general. He's threatened Kurt's life multiple times, and he didn't do that before. He's the last person I expected to be gay."

"Well, yeah, if you're talking about him being an asshole, he is a worse asshole than before," Santana commented casually, "He's not giving two shits about this baby, but when we mention that we could take it for ourselves he suddenly just snaps and says he'll sue us if he gets no time with the baby. He's a total creep. Snix always comes out when she's around him."

"Santana," Blaine's voice sharply snapped, "Can you take this serious for two seconds? You're the only person I can talk to because you're not close to Kurt. Please… I don't know what to do right now."

Santana wiped all humor out of her being, suddenly realizing that Blaine was truly suffering, and she nodded her head, "Okay. Did Karofsky do something to Kurt?"

Blaine flicked his eyes over his shoulder as though to check for something, then he leaned forward and whispered, "Yesterday… Karofsky threatened Kurt's life again, and… I've seen for a while that he really would kill Kurt if he got to it. And… he offered me a proposition. He said he would never touch Kurt again if I… if I would give myself to him. And I did."

Jerking away from him, Santana felt her jaw swing down to her neck, "You didn't, Blaine." At his responsive silence, she covered her heart with her hand, "Oh, my gosh. You let Karofsky do that to you. Why the hell would you do that?"

Blaine blew out heavily, his hand reaching for his hair again and for the first time she noticed his fingers quivering uncontrollably. When his hand lowered again, she stared at the tears filming over his eyes, his lips mashed together, "I had to." He whispered weakly, "I couldn't let him hurt Kurt again. And if it's me instead of Kurt, I'd rather have it that way. I'm just… I'm not ready to go home yet. I don't know how I'll face Kurt. I feel disgusting, Santana. I'm exhausted. Karofsky is worse than ever, and I don't think he can do anything more. It's this constant thing. You know that I had to switch all my classes to Kurt's just because I almost got sick at the idea of leaving him for forty minutes a period? Karofsky attacks at any moment he can. And with every attack Kurt gets more and more abused than the last. I'm afraid one of these days that…" he cut himself off, tilting his head slightly back as though to urge the tears back into his head, but another one slipped down his cheek accidentally.

"Haven't you talked to a teacher? Or the police?" Santana urged, leaning across the table and touching Blaine's arm. "Blaine, you got _raped._ Karofsky isn't going to stop just because you made a deal with him. And I can't sit back and watch you become Karofsky's whore. I won't do it. You're better than that. You need to tell someone."

"No one listens," Blaine informed her, "No one cares. If there isn't a physical threat, there's no threat at all. And I can't _show_ them that I got raped. The only proof I'll ever have that Karofsky's been threatening to kill Kurt is if he actually kills Kurt."

"That's bullshit!" Santana shouted a tone too loudly, but didn't bother with apologizing to the people's glares from around her. "Blaine, you've got to do something! And if you don't, _I_ will! I'm sick of Karofsky's sorry ass! He's bullshitted with the wrong person. He got my girlfriend pregnant. I kind of want to kick him in the nuts. What are you going to do, Blaine?"

Blaine shook his head, "I don't know. Kurt doesn't know—I don't want him to worry about this. I just… feel like Kurt's slipping away from me. I have to watch for Karofsky and it's distracting me from what I should be worried about and then there's that freaking magazine and my brother has a baby that'll be here in my five months—"

"I might come back to McKinley," Santana interrupted, astounding him, "I don't know, I just don't like the real world. I lost my job at that baby place after the fight, and now no one is hiring. Besides, I'm starting to miss Brittany and being pissed away from her is accomplishing nothing. You're right, we need to work this out. And, obviously, I'm totally interested in destroying Karofsky and I can't do that away from school."

Blaine's spine stiffened, "You won't… mention this to him, will you? If word gets out that I was…" he briefly cleared his throat, looking like he might throw up for a second, "with him last night, he could attack Kurt again. He doesn't know that everyone in school thinks he's gay."

"I won't tell anyone," Santana promised, holding her pinkie out, "but I want to make his life hell. I'm on your side now, and I never thought I'd be saying those words. Don't worry, I'll watch out for Kurt, too. He's far too sweet and gentle to handle Karofsky on his own, but I'm not afraid of channeling my inner Snix."

After a moment of eyeballing for any sign of betrayal in her dark eyes, Blaine locked his pinkie with hers and they shook, "Why do you care?"

"I might be a bitch, but I'm not evil," she told him with a light, unforgiving smirk, "And I have more against Karofsky than I ever had against you. You weren't my first, but of all the guys I slept with I cared for you most. I admired you. You weren't afraid of putting me in my place. You got what you wanted and did what you had to. I loved you, Blaine. Consider me your newest partner in crime in taking Karofsky and all his bullshitting down. I look forward to it."

To his surprise, a sudden smile curved his lips, "Thank you… Santana. You weren't my first, either, but I care about you, too. As long as the quips against Kurt stop."

"I have more to bother with than talking about how gay Kurt is," Santana shrugged again, "I never really hated Kurt, either. I was kind of jealous of him. I don't know, he's the prettiest boy I've ever met, and he seems to have everything in order. He knows who he is and I don't. I was also kind of intimidated by him."

Also shockingly, a bubble of laughter burst from Blaine's lips, when he thought he'd never laugh again, "By _Kurt?_ Santana, you just admitted that Kurt is sweet and gentle. He's everything but intimidating. I guess I'm a little intimidated that one of these days he might realize he deserves better than me, but of all the things I've heard about him, I've never heard that he's scary."

"He's not really scary," Santana corrected, "But… you've never been interested in a girl before and to have him just… walk in… and you cave for him almost immediately… I was worried I'd lost my touch of sexiness."

"Oh," his brows furrowed, "No… You didn't lose anything. Fine, I'll admit that that I was never…" he searched for the right word, "_attracted_ to you, but… Kurt was pretty irresistible to me. I think the first moment I saw him was when I decided that he was going to be mine one way or the other. Can I ask you something?"

"As long as I can ask you something."

Blaine ignored that, in fear of _what _she might ask, and he mumbled, "How'd you know?"

"That I was gay?" Santana offered, and he nodded, "Well… Like you said, the first time I looked into Brittany's eyes I felt… complete. I wasn't angry or defensive when she smiled at me, and for the first time in a long time I felt… happy. As we got to know each other… I realized I loved her and one day I just looked at her and saw that… she was enough. Even through the hate comments and the bitter glaring, none of that mattered anymore. And I could see by then that the people who did bash us and the haters who told us to go die didn't actually hate us. They were just jealous that what we had was real and that we loved each other even through the hate, and they could never be that brave."

Blaine rested his chin against his fist, his eyes wandering off to nowhere in particular as he thought back to that first day of school. He hadn't expected anything different to come out of it. Maybe a few detentions from different teachers, and tormenting some kid after school, but he had never expected the most beautiful boy in the world to sweep into his class and sit right by him and look at him with those perfect, blue eyes from under his pretty, blond lashes. That was the exact second Blaine had fallen in love with him, he decided, the moment when blue had locked with gold and his cold, icy heart had split open and Kurt had wiggled his way into it.

_Okay… so I'll call you._

_You don't have my number._

_Fine, Kurt Hummel, if you want to be difficult I can easily stand outside your window throwing pebbles at it until you answer._

_I'd rather be alone tonight. Thank you for the offer, though._

_I'll never leave you alone again,_ Blaine promised himself, _you're mine. And I'd throw a million pebbles at your window if only to get you to acknowledge me, if not smile at me._

Santana's fingers suddenly intertwined with his, and she grinned at him, "My question now. How much do you love Kurt?"

"I'd do anything for him," Blaine said without hesitation, "I would take a bullet for him. I love him more than anything. He's my entire world. But he… doesn't belong with me. I don't even know why he's stayed with me this long. He needs someone… better. I've done some shitty stuff in my past and Kurt… hasn't."

"Let me tell you something about relationships," Santana advised, cocking her brows like she knew something Blaine didn't, "Quit with the deserving shit. For a long time I thought I didn't deserve Brittany. I thought she was perfect—and I wasn't. But… things—Karofsky's baby, especially—have started to make me realize she's imperfect, too. Perfectly imperfect. And I know for a fact that Kurt's imperfect. You just don't see that because you're so blinded by your love of him. First of all, he's impatient. He snaps his fingers _all the time_ if he doesn't get his way. He's picky, he cringes at the idea of getting dirty, he's sort of a perfectionist, and he loves having the spotlight on him when he's singing, even if he acts totally demure and modest when he's just talking. But he's one of the most accepting people I've met. And I know he adores you. The way he looks at you is sickening. It's like you do no wrong in his eyes. I don't know, your personalities just… complement each other."

"They do?" Blaine murmured, unaware that Santana had given so much as a second glance at them.

"Yeah," Santana nodded, "Even better than mine and Brittany's, but we make it work. You're what Kurt needs. He's very spunky and often times jumps before thinking because he assumes everything will be okay, and you're worldly enough to stop him from getting hurt. If you try to put him with someone who doesn't know the darker side of the world and rushes into things, he'd get hurt. You're good for him, Blaine. You know how to handle him."

"I love him so much," Blaine couldn't help himself from saying again, and he shook his head, "I want to be everything for him. But I want him… to do what he has to first. I'm willing to wait forever for him."

Alerted by her ringing cell phone, Santana jerked out of the conversation and reached into her purse, then muttered to Blaine, "Sorry, probably Britt. I told her I'm coming back to McKinley. Can you wait here for a minute?" Rising from her chair, Santana flipped her phone open and cradled it against her ear, and after a moment she murmured, "…No—No, honey, I keep telling you, Lord Tubbington isn't on steroids. I don't know why he would look more muscular today." She held up her finger at Blaine, then marched toward the door and swung it open.

Left alone to his own thoughts, Blaine reached into his pocket to check his phone, and he discovered three new texts, the first from Burt and he opened that up, _Hey, kid. Kurt's taught me to text while you were gone so I thought I'd ask if you were out at the store if you could pick up some Band-Aids while you're out. Kurt cut his hand and it's bleeding pretty bad._

Blaine's heart stopped, but he managed to open his next text from Kurt, _Hey, you've been out for a while so I thought I'd let you know that I miss you more than anything. Love you. Come home soon. Hopefully you've bought me a new scarf for the upcoming spring weather while you were out!_

His next text was from an unrecognizable number, so he hesitantly opened it in case it was just some virus to screw up his phone internet, _You were a much better fuck than I thought you'd be. Let's do it again sometime._

"Karofsky," he whispered to himself, instantly keying in a code to block the number and deleting the text since Kurt often had the habit of using his phone when he didn't have his own on him, then he pressed for speed dial one and tucked the phone to his ear.

After two rings, he heard a click and Kurt's lovely, high voice rang through his speaker, and he nearly hardened with an arousal just at the sound of it, "Blaine! Where are you? Are you coming home soon?" Pavarotti twittered happily in the background, and the sound of his fluttering wings beat against the phone. Kurt hushed him gently, "Pavarotti, I'll feed you in a minute. I'm talking to your daddy."

Pavarotti twittered again, but after that he receded to silence obediently. "Hey, angel," Blaine muttered into the phone, flicking his eyes around the simple coffee shop. "I'll be home in twenty minutes, at most. I stopped to meet Santana at the Lima Bean. We're about finished."

"Santana?" Kurt questioned, and rustling burst into the background as though Kurt was plopping down on the bed. "That's so nice, Blaine. I'm glad you're branching out with your friendships."

"Me, too," he smiled against the phone, "Baby, your dad texted me and said you cut your hand. Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Kurt replied easily, no signs of hiding anything in his tone. Unlike Blaine. "It was all a mistake. I took off my wrap from my hand and hit it against the corner of my desk. The skin opened up again. I'm okay, though. If you just got coffee, I have lunch made for you. Your favorite—a cranberry almond biscotti with an apple bacon tomato soup. If you're lucky I might even make a yummy dessert for you!" He sang giddily, giggling into the phone.

"Sounds perfect, baby," Blaine assured him, "I'm glad you're okay. I'll pick up some Band-Aids and Neosporin while I'm out then give it a thousand kisses to make you feel better."

"Mm," Kurt whimpered, "That would be delightful. Hold on, Pavarotti's getting fussy. Can I call you back later?"

"Sure, honey," Blaine shrugged, then realized Kurt couldn't see him, "Call me when you can. I love you."

"Love you, too!" Kurt cooed, and whispered to Pavarotti, "Pavarotti, tell your daddy that you love him!"

At Kurt's request Pavarotti chirped several times into the phone, and Blaine heard the sound of Kurt blowing a kiss to the phone, "I'll talk to you in a few minutes!" The line clicked off and Blaine's eyes immediately drenched with fresh tears at the sweet, alluring sound of Kurt's falsetto voice. _Perfectly imperfect._

There were a lot of things Blaine regretted, but saving Kurt wasn't one of them.

* * *

"Alright, guys," Schuester strode into the room from his office, "I have important announcements today. But, first of all, welcome back, Santana!" He paused for the applause at that, and Santana, who was sitting on Blaine's right, raised her arms into the air appreciatively when the glee club burst into enthusiastic cheers. Kurt, on Blaine's left, leaned over and high-fived her with a smile. Blaine grinned at Kurt's show of complete forgiveness of her previous jabs at him and his willingness to accept her with open arms ever since Blaine had told him she was on their side. Wrapping an arm around his lover and pulling him close, he kissed the top of Kurt's head as Kurt purred and nuzzled into his neck.

Finding his way back into Kurt's arms hadn't been as difficult as he'd first thought. Despite his rape, Santana's words that even she could see how Kurt adored him gave him the confidence to trust that Kurt might just love him through thick and thin. He still didn't like the idea that he'd gone behind Kurt's back, but what kept him sane was that he hadn't been longing for Karofsky's touch. He knew he would never cheat on Kurt willingly, and that was what made him capable to, after going to Santana's house to briefly shower and change into fresh clothes Puck had left over there once, approach Kurt and yank him into his arms.

Not that he'd been the one to provoke their love last night.

He'd driven home and found a plate of lunch heating up on the stove, then carried it downstairs to find Kurt standing at the bottom of the stairs completely naked and whispering to him that it'd been too long. And how could Blaine refuse him that? His rape had seemed to trigger something in him with Kurt, like he'd seen how bad sex could be and how holding a naked, trembling and panting Kurt to his chest felt so good. Sex wasn't even sex with Kurt. It was something no one else would ever experience with Kurt, the greatest thing Blaine would ever experience.

It was true love.

And thinking back to the first day he'd ever met Kurt, he could hardly believe he'd gotten so far. He'd fallen in love with a boy who was supposed to mean nothing to him. He wouldn't take it back for anything. _"Sweetheart,"_ he had whispered to Kurt after they'd tired and Kurt was beginning to drift to sleep in his arms, his hand stroking patterns through Kurt's blondish hair, _"if we hadn't been partnered up in English, would you be in another man's arms right now? Would you have even met me?"_

Kurt had giggled against his heart, _"No and yes. No, that I would be with another man. Even if I didn't know you, I would never love another man. You're my one and only true love. And, yes, that I would have met you. You would have seen me and approached me, anyway. You're too bold and in love with me to not have bothered with me at all. You loved me from the first second you saw me, didn't you?"_

_"I did,"_ he had admitted with a gruff laugh, _"I loved you the first time I looked into your blue eyes. I wouldn't have left you alone even if we hadn't have been forced together like that."_

Kurt had laughed at that, but he hadn't replied, the two of them sinking into silence. The next time he'd glanced down at Kurt he'd been snuggled against his chest and sound asleep, a smile curving his lips joyfully.

Bringing himself back to the present, Blaine soaked in the relief that he knew Kurt the way he did, and that he didn't have to be without him ever. He could have him now—whenever he wanted. He relaxed into his seat that for once he didn't have to be paranoid about Karofsky, who had chosen to ditch, and Schuester continued on about Booty Camp or something, to which his classmates eagerly complained about. He, however, focused in on Kurt, who abruptly turned his head to meet Blaine's eyes. Flushing that he'd been watched without him noticing, Kurt bowed his head and nipped his bottom lip, and he whispered so softly, "I love you, Blaine."

"I love you, too, angel," Blaine breathed in his ear, pressing a kiss to the tiny curve of it, and he grinned lovingly at his small face. "More than anything in the world." Directing his gaze to the front of the class, Blaine abruptly pointed out, "Mr. Schue?"

Schuester stopped speaking and he glanced at Blaine, "Yes, Blaine? Have something to add that I missed?"

"Wait," Rachel blurted, "Blaine knew about Booty Camp before us?"

"Yes, he'll be running it," Schuester said casually, unaware that Rachel was offended at the thought of this. "Blaine?"

Blaine nodded toward the guitar in the corner, "Mr. Schuester, I was wondering if I could sing something today. For Kurt."

"For me?" Kurt squeaked, his cheeks burning crimson as he flicked his eyes around his curious classmates. "Blaine, it isn't Valentine's Day any longer. You don't have to."

"No, I need to," Blaine corrected, rising to his feet as Schuester furrowed his brows but backed away instantly.

"Sure, Blaine," Schuester gestured to the front of the room, "Go ahead. We'd be honored. Is there any special reason?"

"No," Blaine shrugged, smiling when Santana brushed his hand and smirked knowingly at him, "I guess it's just my thank you to Kurt for being the way he is. Perfectly imperfect." Propping himself on the stool in the center of the room and swinging the guitar into his lap, Blaine met Kurt's eyes, "Kurt, I've known you for four months, and these past four months have been the most amazing of my life. You've changed everything about me for the better, and I don't show you that I appreciate it enough. You've given me my friends and my life back—you've became my everything. So… I love you. I'm proud of you. You make me want to be someone better for you, but I know that you love me just the way I am. Maybe you get grumpy when it's Saturday and I turn my razor on while you're still asleep, and I know it annoys you when I leave my clothes on the bathroom floor, or when I don't make my side of the bed, but you love me, anyway."

"Those are some of the reasons why I love you," Kurt corrected softly, a grin quirking his lips. "I love everything you do. You wouldn't be entirely you if you didn't do those things."

Blaine smirked at him adoringly, tilting his head down to his guitar and strumming the strings to test that it had been tuned already. Pressing his fingers into the strings, Blaine thumbed the first few notes of Taking Chances—which seemed to fit their situation quite nicely, and his voice burst quietly from his lips. Holding his eyes to the guitar despite having memorized how to play a guitar without looking, Blaine stroked it delicately and weary notes trilled out of it.

Lifting his eyes back to the choir room, from Schuester to Puck, Finn, Sam and Artie who each sat in the front row bobbing their heads to the beat, then up to the second row where Tina, Mercedes and Rachel huddled to themselves, and Quinn who perched directly behind Puck, he traced over to Brittany and Santana, both angled toward each other, then to Kurt who he focused completely in on, the smiling boy patting his knee lightly to the rhythm. Kurt's grin broadened as Blaine met his eyes, and without hesitation he stood from his seat. Swaying down the rows to Blaine, Kurt lowered into Blaine's lap and looped an arm around his neck, and Blaine snuggled him closer, his heart thundering at the loving touch of Kurt.

_Don't know much about your life…_ _Don't know much about your world…_

_But what do you say to taking chances… What do you say to jumping off the edge?_

_ Never knowing if there's solid ground below…_

_ Or a hand to hold, or hell to pay…_


	36. It's Time

Author's note: Out of my hiatus! My brother goes to his schooling on Monday and then all I'll have to worry about is school, and I can work pretty easily around that. This chapter is dedicated to SilverWhiteDragon, who motivated me into getting out of my hiatus and posting this now. I don't know what's going to happen with my story next. This chapter was just as unexpected for me, so if you have ideas I'd love to hear them. Oh, and, for those of you who are concerned, Blaine is technically going to come out three times in this story. This story is nowhere near finished, and it could take me another six months to finish it. Anyway, love all of you and your support. You're amazing people!

P.S. GLEE IS BACK. Just thought I'd mention that :P

Disclaimer: Glee. I do not own it.

* * *

"Santana?"

Swishing down the hallway to her own beat against the flow of kids rushing to their classes at the bell, Santana flicked her eyes over her shoulder and halted at the sight of Blaine and Kurt rounding the corner with their arms linked, Kurt leaning into Blaine like a crutch. "Oh, hey," she murmured pleasantly, falling into place beside Blaine. "Nice outfit, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes followed her gaze to his collection of what appeared to be a patriotic headband across his forehead just to honor his heritage, a baggy, red shirt, and a white pair of tracksuit sweats. "_Merci,_" he grinned confidently, "It's the new line of Juicy Couture. Well… the jacket is Blaine's. I was hoping someone would notice. The shoes are Prada, though. Juicy Couture just _had_ to design a new line of workout heels. _Heels._ And you know the heels will stick into the grass and they'll get dirt clumps on them. I'm so disappointed."

Half amused by Kurt's tragedies, Santana smirked at Blaine's simple, black and white striped tee shirt with gray sweats cuffed at his ankles and black cut-offs on his feet. "And yours, Blaine? Also designer?"

"American Eagle," Blaine corrected with a knowing grin, "I haven't yet gotten designer down."

"No big deal," Santana patted his shoulder, "My entire outfit is from—"

"Pac Sun," Kurt put in swiftly, "Katy Perry sported _that_ jacket and those shoes on the cover of Elle last Monday."

Santana jerked up a brow halfway up her forehead, but before she could ask questions Blaine muttered, "It's easier to just let him be." Directing his golden gaze down to Kurt who vaguely studied his nail and trusted that Blaine would lead him the right way, he nudged Kurt ahead a step. "Honey, Rachel and Finn are just up there. Why don't you run up there and give them the play by play of Booty Camp? I'll meet you up in a second. But… stay with them." He briefly planted a kiss to a bouncing Kurt's forehead, his eyes unblinkingly watching every step he took as Kurt bounded away to Finn and Rachel. He waited until Finn looked up to meet his eye then nodded in understanding that Kurt couldn't be left alone for so much as two seconds, then he returned his attention to Santana, his gentle expression masking with a fatal one, "So, where's Karofsky?" he muttered a tone lower than what he spoke to Kurt with.

"No one's seen him," she answered seriously, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. Partially offended that her outfit was so decodable, she knew she would have to go shopping for an outfit soon that would outsmart even Kurt. "I don't know, it's like he's vanished off the face of the earth. He missed another court date. All Britt and I have to do is sit back and wait for the judge to tire of rescheduling and we'll get the baby. I tried calling him but he didn't answer, and when I went to his house his dad said he wasn't home. Have you heard from him?"

"I blocked his number," Blaine stalked forward a few steps, holding his eyes to Kurt as he murmured something to Rachel, who didn't look humored in the least. Ever since she found out Kurt and Blaine were running Booty Camp she'd been pretty damn hostile, but Blaine didn't have time to worry about Rachel's hurt feelings at that point. "He sent me a text the day we met up for coffee and I was afraid he would start harassing with dirty text messages and that Kurt might find them."

"You give Kurt your phone?" She seemed purely shocked.

"I live with him—we have no personal space," Blaine muttered nonchalantly, as though that answered every question. "Do you think he left McKinley? Or his dad found out some of the shit he was doing and pulled him out?"

"Hopefully," Santana grumbled, pausing once they reached the doors to the football field, "I don't want to see his sorry ass around here again. Hey, good luck today. I heard Kurt got trained for a few months at the level of a professional ballerina to be in that little Broadway show when he was fourteen. If he doesn't kick all of our asses I know I'll be dreaming."

"Yeah," Blaine chuckled, turning around to collect Kurt as she pushed open the door. "The football players will be in hell."

Santana marched out the door to the football fields where their Booty Camp awaited them, and Blaine spun on his heel only to get slapped in the face by what felt like a soaked towel. Gasping, Blaine stumbled back a step and lifted his hands to his face, pulling them away with syrupy ice chunks melting on his fingers. From across the hall, he heard Azimio shout at him, "That's what I think of your faggy Booty Camp, Lady Fabulous."

Palming Slushie out of his eyes as the burning syrup seeped into his them, Blaine stared in shock at the group of football players gawking and laughing at him while they sauntered off, an empty cup of Slushie in Azimio's hand. Suddenly, he snapped his eyes over to where Finn, Rachel and Kurt stood not three feet away, each with dropped jaws and huge eyes.

Abruptly, another group of glee kids—Puck, Artie and Sam—turned a corner and Puck called out bluntly, "Who's the new Lady Fabulous?" His eyes scanned over Kurt, Finn and Rachel, then to Blaine and a helpless snort escaped him, "Well, I guess that's your initial welcoming to the glee club losers, Blaine—er… Lady Fabulous. You know, I like that. I think I'll keep it."

Holding out his hand when Finn passed him the towel he'd had draped over his shoulders to blot sweat off his skin during Booty Camp, Blaine mussed his dripping hair with the towel and shook it out, his curls spiraling everywhere. "Right, Sad Sack. You're one to talk."

Puck grinned helplessly, holding his hands apart, "Hey, you get what you give. Someone, get him cleaned up. Beiste is lining the football players up outside. I'll check them for Slushies."

"You're a brave man," Artie commented half playfully, half seriously, while Kurt darted forward and snatched Blaine's hand in his.

"Come on, Lady Fabulous," Kurt giggled, yanking him down the hall, "you can have your jacket back, even though it was warm and snug. Welcome to the glee club losers, Blaine."

"I'm honored," he muttered sardonically, but squeezed Kurt's hand, anyway. Following Kurt into the bathroom, Blaine couldn't help but slightly lean over and search the bottom of the stalls in a state of total paranoia. One of these days Karofsky might just be in one, and he might even jump out when Blaine was least expecting it.

All with the intent of ending Kurt.

Blaine couldn't ever be caught off guard by him.

* * *

Santana swayed her body from side to side, stretching her muscles out and relaxing her tense bones when Blaine approached her from the side, Kurt heading in the opposite direction. In one of the front rows of dancers, she'd been left to her own company, as Brittany had been given strict rules to sit this one out with her pregnancy. Swinging her head around as Blaine paused in step beside her, both of them turned their attention toward the front where Schuester jabbered on about who-knew-what that no one cared about. Kurt stood quietly at his side and placed his hands on his hips, examining the damage he needed to do to whip everyone in shape for his dance routine.

Figgins, Beiste and Sylvester each paced the sidelines of the football players and glee kids, Figgins perusing the entire of them while Beiste remained mainly beside her football players, and Sylvester eyeballed her precious Cheerios. Each of them waited for a fight to break out at any moment, readied to crack down on whoever made the first move. Blaine turned briefly to count the number of players, and at least ten guys had skipped, but the rest of them moped around kicking at the dirt and complaining about how football players should never dance, or they curled themselves up like a spring prepared to snap when released. They all wanted a chance to insult and throw Kurt down. The good thing was, Karofsky wasn't among them.

Santana kicked her leg up behind her and flexed her toes, then did the same for the other, muttering to him, "Is the routine hard? Didn't Kurt train with some of the top dancers in France? Like… the highest league of them?"

"Cassandra July," Blaine confirmed, surprising Santana, who although just a singer for the most part, recognized that Cassandra July and all her glory destroyed every new student she met—except Kurt, obviously. "She was the first celebrity he worked with. And… I don't think the routine's that hard. It's a lot of couple work and all I did was lift him when he needed it."

Schuester suddenly clapped his hands, alerting them into silence but when he and Santana looked up his gaze was directed at a few noisy football players, "Listen up, everyone. Show Kurt some respect. You're lucky to be training with him. Kurt, the floor is yours. Take it away."

"_Merci,_ Mr. Schuester," Kurt said politely, stepping up to the plate and eyeing his subjects, "Hello, everyone. I'm Kurt Hummel—if you didn't know that—and I have exactly four days to teach you a dance routine and to sing a fabulous and famous Michael Jackson song. I want to make this as painless as possible so if any of you have a question or a suggestion, you can ask either myself or Blaine. He's been through the routine several times and knows exactly what he's talking about—"

Stopped by a hand shooting up in the back—a hand that belonged to Matt Rutherford, the boy who had replaced Karofsky as defensive tackle when Karofsky had replaced Blaine as quarterback; other than that, Blaine didn't know much about him and warily watched him for what he was about to say—Kurt pointed to it, "Yes? Do you have a question?"

"Yeah," Rutherford moaned, "When is this over? I have to pick up my sister from band practice. I can't drive to her school in a lady's leotard if I'm running too late to change."

Kurt uncomfortably shifted his weight and nipped his bottom lip as he flushed, his eyes zeroing in on Blaine as though to urge him to do something. Blaine immediately spun around to face him, "Get the hell out." Stepping out of the mass crowd, Blaine glowered at the entire of them, "If you don't respect him, you're out. And let me remind you that your grade will be cut in half and football players have to maintain decent grades. If you want off the football team, you'll keep running your mouths. If not, shut the hell up and listen to him."

Schuester sighed and hung his head, "Thank you, Blaine. A simple reminder about the golden rule would have been decent, but you made your point. Kurt, please continue."

"Okay, then," Kurt lightly clapped his fingers together, focusing back in on his task, "I was thinking we could start each day off with a ten minute exercise to loosen ourselves up. Everyone find a partner. The person you choose will be your partner all through the next week. It's best to spend your time on one person alone so you can learn their strengths and weaknesses and not have to relearn everything with a new person every day. Our end performance will be much nicer to watch if we're all in sync." Kurt held his hand out, so Blaine automatically stepped forward and wriggled his way into Kurt's arms.

In the front row, Rachel and Finn partnered up, along with the other glee kids finding their significant others. The football players uncomfortably swayed from side to side, eyeballing each other as though to question if their masculinity would be tested if they held each other for a dance routine. Discovering that Santana was awkwardly left alone, Kurt called out to her, "Santana, Brittany can participate in the exercises. These can actually be very healthy for a pregnant woman. And, football team, it's okay to dance with each other. No one here minds. This is an open place to try new things."

"You heard him, ladies," Beiste snapped at them, "Get your partners."

Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's strong arm, then he lifted his foot off the ground and swung it around to balance it on Blaine's powerful shoulder. Blaine clenched onto his hips to hold him steady as Kurt stretched himself back until he gazed at the mob of students relying on him upside down. After giving them a chance to soak in his flexed toes in his red, ballerina shoes and the way his shoulders remained down rather than inching toward his chin and his perfectly flat chest, Kurt kicked his leg back off and spun around in Blaine's arms, "That move can be practiced alone with a balancing bar, but it's simpler to use a partner to hold onto you if you're just starting out. Give yourself enough space and try it out. Place your leg exactly underneath the soft spot on your shin against the dip in your partner's shoulder. Make sure your partner has a good grip on you and then bend yourself backwards. Stay relaxed and it'll come easily."

As the entire fifty kids in front of him got to work in spacing themselves out and clumsily throwing their legs into the air, some of them doing it so that the lighter of the two of them was catching the heavier one, and many of them tumbling onto their butts with frustration burning in their eyes, Blaine rubbed a circle against Kurt's ass and murmured to him, "What do you want to try next? The human centipede?"

"You think they're ready for that?" Kurt whispered idly, watching the fumbling football players—and even glee club members—with a sense of embarrassment for them. "Blaine, this move was simple. Why aren't they mastering it? It's only going to get harder."

"Their hearts aren't in it," Blaine answered casually, "But just think about it. You weren't ready for the human centipede when we first tried it. You're pretty good at it now."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Blaine, scrunching his nose up, "That's different. We were in bed when we first tried it and I was a nervous wreck because that counted as _sex!_ This is dancing. I suppose we could try some ground work, though. Considering they like to be on it so much." He added that last part nastily, his eyes scanning the amount of people landing on the ground then brushing themselves off.

"Okay, everyone!" Blaine shouted, clapping his hands. "Stay in your partners. Kurt and I are going to show off something that should be easier for you. We'll build up to that last move."

Once he got their attention, Blaine dropped to the ground and plopped onto his ass—wincing only briefly at the pain still wedged deep inside of him from Karofsky's abuse. Kurt also knelt down with his knees caving into Blaine's stomach, and whispers started emerging about how they were going to do it. Shakily Kurt stretched his legs out and Blaine gripped his ankles, and as Blaine lifted his own legs into the air Kurt snatched onto his ankles. Suspended in the air, Kurt blew out through his mouth so he wasn't gasping for air and turning red in the face, and he snapped his head up to meet the eyes of the awestruck glee kids and football players.

Since Kurt was so light and delicate, Blaine didn't bother rolling them the way the move was supposed to be projected in case he crushed Kurt. With a moment of hesitation, Kurt slowly extended his leg into the air, then raised his arm on the opposite side and Blaine grasped him tighter, then allowed Kurt to roll off to the side when he couldn't take anymore.

"You're kidding, right?" Muttered one of the football players from the back, "We can't do that. We're football players."

"Coach Beiste, this is funk," another agreed, their complaints growing louder by the second, "I thought we came here to make peace, not watch Hummel and Anderson give each other blow jobs. He's making us act totally gay. For a kid who prides in self-respect, he seems pretty keen on changing us into a bunch of dancing gays."

"Who gave them the right to be in charge, anyway? Blaine isn't even a football player anymore."

"Hey!" Santana screamed, ejecting herself from the whining dancers. She stalked up to a temperamentally twitching Blaine and boosted him up by his wrist. Blaine immediately bent to help Kurt up, who pressed himself into Blaine in the midst of his humiliation. "I know it sucks ass to be here right now! You think the glee club is any happier about it? But all of you got yourselves into this on your own doing. Do you know how many times I've had to wash Slushie out of my hair? _No me gusta!_ So, the next person who opens up that hole in his face to complain gets to face the wrath of Snix, and today she has razor blades all up in her hair! All up in there! So shut your mouths and show some respect!"

No one dared utter a single word, but one person towards the back clapped their hands together rhythmically. At first Santana thought it was a teacher admiring her for admonishing the imbeciles and provoking a sense of peace, but suddenly the glee kids toward the front tore apart, expect for Puck who snatched Artie's wheelchair as the culprit behind the interruption kicked it aside. Despite Blaine's unresponsive, stone cold body, Kurt gasped and tucked himself behind Blaine, hiding his face in his shirt.

Karofsky, emerging from the mass of fascinated onlookers with a smirk glued to his face, flicked his eyes over Blaine's shoulder before Blaine had a chance to push Kurt further behind him, and he laughed throatily, "Nice hiding spot, Kurt, behind the four foot hobbit. I can still see you. Don't worry, you don't have to fear me any longer. Your Buttboy and I made a deal. Has he told you about that yet?"

"Karofsky," Schuester warned, but Karofsky shrugged the teacher off, his mind on better things.

"Where have you been?" Santana snapped, diverting his attention momentarily from Blaine and Kurt, the former reviewing ways he could go about digging holes in the ground then burying Karofsky's head in them. "You missed another court date, jackass. Miss another one and the baby's ours—"

"This isn't about that bastard right now," Karofsky barked, shoving past her and skidding up to Blaine, who stiffened himself up while Kurt flinched away behind him, his hands digging into Blaine's heavy jacket like it was a lifeline. "I'm here for Blaine. Or should I say… the gayest _fag_ at McKinley High—other than your skank, obviously. I almost didn't recognize you, Kurt. You're in boy clothes for once."

Blaine snarled, "Karofsky, you need to leave. Now. I don't want to see your ass at Booty Camp again."

"No, you'll just see it when you come begging at my door again like the whore you are," Karofsky snorted, making sure Kurt caught every word. Whispers immediately started emerging nearby, much to Blaine's regret. Behind him Kurt squeezed his arms and made a soft sound of panic. "But what the hell are you talking about? This is _my_ football team you're training to dance like a bunch of faggy Lady GayGay's. You know, ever since you gave it up for your slut boyfriend." Karofsky lifted his voice for the entire glee club and football team to hear, and his eyes snapped to Kurt's small, petrified face, "Hey, Lady. I saw that magazine. Either you're worse of a cheating, gay skank than I first thought or you sprinkled your hypnotizing fairy dust on Blaine and got him to come out." His voice dropped, and he winked, "Either way, you can have him. He was a shitty fuck, anyway. Oh, by the way, Blaine, you left these at my house. Enjoy." Karofsky pulled a pair of Armani, tan socks from his pants pocket and tossed them at Blaine, whose mouth fell open in surprise. "That's all I had to say. I'm out of here. I have more important things to do than dance like you bunch of gay, fairy princesses."

Whipping around, Karofsky strode confidently toward the parking lot with everyone's silence at his heels, until Santana spoke up after spotting the shocked expression on Blaine's face die and shrivel into an absolute murderous one at the back of Karofsky's head, "Blaine, it's okay. Don't do this here—" Her voice cut off almost the exact second that Blaine lunged out of Kurt's arms, startling Kurt into tumbling onto his butt, and he tore after Karofsky, his shoes ripping up the manicured pieces of football grass. "Blaine!" she screamed after him, "Blaine, stop! _Blaine!_"

Karofsky didn't get far until Blaine nailed him to the grass, his fists instantly slugging at his face with the accuracy and power of a professional boxer. "Karofsky, you're a coward!" Blaine screamed ferociously, climbing on top of him and putting his face inches from Karofsky's. "You used to be my friend! Why does any of that not matter to you?"

Fidgeting under him, Karofsky rolled on top of Blaine and gestured wildly with his hands, "For the same reason it doesn't to you!" He pointed at a helpless Kurt, whose tears streamed down his face in his state of confusion and chaos. "Because of him! You're the bastard who left me!"

"You never wanted what was good for me!" Blaine roared at him, his skin darkening to a deep purple, "_You didn't rape me because of Kurt! You raped me because you knew you would never have me otherwise and that Kurt is the best way to get what you want!_ Are you happy now? You got what you wanted. And I got what I wanted." Snapping his face toward the horrified group of kids awaiting to be told what to do next, Blaine shrieked, "Fine, I was raped by a boy! I know you've all been waiting to hear that—that I got dick from a boy. But I got dick from Karofsky, and none of you saw that coming, did you? That Karofsky's totally gay." He turned back to a fuming Karofsky, "Revenge is a bitch, huh? How does it feel to be outted?"

Shoving Karofsky off of him, Blaine leapt to his feet and paced toward Kurt, who Santana had knelt by to check on when he'd fallen, and Kurt looked up at him with huge eyes and parted lips, tears shimmering in his turquoise eyes. He dropped to the ground beside of Kurt and touched his thumb to Kurt's damp cheek, only to furrow his brows when Kurt's face dissipated from his terrified expression into one of pure horror. He jerked his hand back assuming Kurt was completely disgusted with him, but then he hollered as his shoulder was nearly ripped out of place and his body was Velcro glued to another. Suddenly, a pair of wet and cold lips crushed over his, opening and parting his as well, and Karofsky's hand dropped to his groin to squeeze his weights. Karofsky slid his tongue down Blaine's throat only for a second, then jerked back and slapped him hard enough to do some serious damage. "You tell me," Karofsky hissed, shoving him away and bending over Kurt. Blaine immediately leapt in the way of Kurt, but Karofsky poked his head around his body and met Kurt's traumatized eyes with his own, "Enjoy him, skank. He's not worth the trouble. Then again, neither are you."

Blaine watched from a distant part of his mind as the shock overwhelmed him, his eyes following Karofsky's footsteps to the parking lot, and he fuzzily noticed one of the teachers—Beiste, maybe—intercept him and tug him over to the side. Heat rushed to every part of his body and his limbs turned to cement, but he managed to glance over his shoulder to where Kurt appeared to have burst into tears from the fear and stress getting to him, but he was incapable of doing anything—not when Karofsky had sealed his fate with Kurt, who might just leave him if he was as smart as he was beautiful. He turned his gaze to the whispering crowd of kids, but whether he was outted or not was suddenly the last of his concerns anymore.

If Kurt was going to leave him was still vague, but he knew one thing for sure. What had just happened would never leave anything the same. He'd outted Karofsky, and he was hungry for revenge. Not against Kurt, but against Blaine, but Karofsky was well aware that ending Kurt would be the end of Blaine. Kurt wasn't safe anymore.

* * *

Kurt stared at himself in the mirror. Dressed in a simple tee shirt Coop had mailed Blaine from a trip to the Bahamas with a couple of palm trees on it and a bright sun—so colorful and cheerful, the opposite of anything revolving around his life—Kurt pressed his fingers into his cheeks and the pink skin turned white before fading back. He couldn't deny that he was beautiful. He had his mother's face to the last eyelash, and from brief flashes of memories he recalled that he'd always thought she was the most extraordinary creature on the planet. He wondered if she had ever looked like how he did at the moment—tired, raggedy, exactly how a pale model with sensitive skin would look after missing so many night and morning treatments of face care.

He also wondered if she had ever sought more. More than just a balding car shop manager with no more of a life than sitting around, drinking a beer and sticking his nose in the newspaper. Had she ever wanted one of those movie star beautiful men who had to snap their fingers to get what they wanted, and thought lube meant something to stick into a gay's ass rather than something to oil up a car with. The type to drive cars for stunt movies, not fix them for cheap. She'd had big dreams that had been cut off too quickly, and she'd gone before she even had a chance to stick her toe into the world of spotlights and microphones. _"Your mother loved us, Kurt,"_ Burt had told him one night when he'd asked why she left them, _"She was good to us. Never forget that."_

He had about a million choices. But only one stood out to him. He remembered those friendly, successful Warblers who didn't even finish high school and went on to better things; that could be him. He also thought about his job at Vogue, and how if he went back now they would find something for him to do; they wouldn't leave him on the streets. Or he could even finish up school at his French Academy, and go to college at a performing arts school. He wouldn't exactly need it with his contract to Vogue and the promise that he'd be there for a while, but it'd be something to keep him busy. In the end, though, none of those suited him—at least, not yet. He had a bigger responsibility to fill, to a boy whom his very life he owed. Of course, that wasn't the only reason he was deciding to stay in Ohio for now. But it was one of them.

Suddenly, the water trickling in the shower snapped off and alerted him into attention that Blaine would be stepping out soon. For the first time ever, he was speechless as to what to say to him. It was like he was meeting Blaine for the initial time, just a stranger to him. But he was also a stranger to himself. He had been for the past few months. He came into Ohio expecting to weave in and out of school with decent grades and a spot on the Cheerios, and possibly a group of people he could hang out with every now and then, but he'd never expected this.

He'd never expected Blaine.

Blaine had been the last thing he'd seen coming, and he thought back to the moment when he'd first laid eyes on him, when he'd gotten lost coming to English because he couldn't read the doors signs and no one had bothered to talk to him, and he'd swept through the doors. He'd felt his eyes burning into the back of his neck, constantly watching him, not out of hatred, but of curiosity. After slipping into his seat, he'd coyly looked at Blaine just to see who he would be dealing with, and Blaine had been looking right back at him, only a bit more boldly. He'd been beautiful, and it had been clear to Kurt why he had the reins over the school. He was perfection in a walking body. Their love hadn't been an easy thing for Kurt to imagine, him being the odd foreign exchange kid who did the worst things possible for his reputation—kept his celebrity status secret and joined glee club, while Blaine was busy owning the school along with Karofsky and Azimio.

But, one way or another, it had happened, and Kurt didn't regret a second of it—even if Blaine did, he thought with a moment of dread. Anything could happen once Blaine stepped out of that bathroom, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face it.

On the other side of the door Kurt heard Blaine shuffling into his clothes—something he wouldn't have done a week ago when they'd just been relaxing in their bedroom. Blaine spent more time in the nude in their room, even when they weren't making love, than he did with a mere pair of boxers, at the very least. The door abruptly pushed open and Blaine stepped out with his eyes trained to the floor, his hands at his collar as he flipped it down. Eyeballing Blaine, Kurt wiggled against the pillows and tucked his legs under him, searching through his head for something—anything—to break the ice. Studying Blaine in his time of racking his brain, Kurt noticed how much he'd aged since when they began dating. Despite the young hairstyle, Blaine's face creased with lines that hadn't been there at the beginning of the year, and his style was much older and matured than what a pair of sweats had to offer him.

The air was heavy in the memory that things had never been easy for them—especially not now. They both recognized that they were attached forever, whether they chose to honor that or not. Too much had occurred between them for them to simply drop everything and return to the lives they once had. Blaine's head finally lifted from fidgeting with his collar and his eyes met Kurt's—not guiltily, but numbly. Blaine was far past the point of feeling anything but numb. Even his anger had been drained, and often times he'd heard that when a person felt absolutely nothing for their tormentor, that their hate was at his highest peak. The human body just wasn't capable of handling that kind of intensity. And Blaine definitely wasn't a superhuman, so he fell into that category, as well as any other human whose emotions had been so worn down they just couldn't feel anymore.

Kurt returned his stare with a tilt of his head and a blink, and he leaned forward on the bed. Sliding one hand out on the sheets, Kurt telepathically urged Blaine to join him, and as though he'd received the message Blaine set a knee on the dipping bed, then the other and crawled into the middle. Without invitation, Kurt threw his arms around Blaine and kissed the side of his neck, where his pulse was strongest. Blaine returned the gesture and squeezed him back just as tightly without breaking him in half, and he cradled him to his chest. "I never thought I'd feel your body rest against mine again," Blaine mumbled weakly into Kurt's hair, "I'm so disgusting and you want me, anyway. You're stupid to come back to me, Kurt."

"I never left you," Kurt whispered into his chest, pressing kisses all along the ridge of his collarbone, "I owe you my life. You gave yourself to him for me. How could I possibly loathe you for that?"

Blaine peeled Kurt away from him, cradling his soft, pink face in his calloused, dirty hands and shakily stroking his tear streaks with his thumbs. Kurt's eyes fluttered shut and he parted his lips, his heart stuttering as he felt the light brushing of Blaine's lips against his. He opened wider and Blaine sank deeper, his lips also parting and for a moment they just breathed, drawing in each other's touch in a way neither of them had explored before. This was new—a new hunger for each other that surpassed any touch they'd shared previously. They'd been abused and beaten, but still craved each other mercilessly. Maybe even more so. Blaine's trembling hands slipped down Kurt's thighs to the hem of his tee shirt and Kurt lifted up slightly, allowing him to peel it up over his buttocks, his fingers brushing the soft skin and painting streaks of white fire that both chilled him and warmed him to the bone. Kurt's fingers sneaked up to the cheekbones of Blaine's face, and he moaned at the warm streaks of tears falling against his fingers, his head tilting back as Blaine lifted the shirt over his body and past his head, then flicked it aside carelessly.

He toppled Kurt to the bed and fell against his cold, pale, naked body, still fully dressed. Kurt planned to fix that in a minute. Sliding his fingers to Blaine's collar he'd just done up, Kurt rubbed a finger over a button in the middle, then thumbed it free. "Kurt," Blaine's quivering voice interrupted, and he popped his shining, blue eyes open to intake Blaine's severe expression. Not one of anger, but of fright. Of not knowing what would come of them. Not knowing who would turn their backs on them. Not knowing why they had met, or what good thing they had done to meet each other and fall in love—harder than Kurt had ever imagined he could fall in love. "Kurt…" Blaine's lips drifted over the corner of Kurt's mouth, which opened at his touch, then to the tip of his nose, and he wrapped his arms around Kurt's limp body, tugging him closer. "Kurt…"

Kurt blinked up at him, running his fingers through one of Blaine's curls, "Yes, Blaine?"

Blaine's lips parted, his entire body shaking against Kurt's, and then he whispered while a tear dripped off his chin and onto the pillow, "I'm gay."

At first Kurt thought he was dreaming. He'd had dreams a lot about this—about Blaine running up to him and swinging him into his arms, then kissing him and shouting that he was completely gay for Kurt. But his dreams had never been like this—never so vivid, never so real. He'd never felt Blaine's warm breath blowing against his skin like this; he'd never seen that helpless vulnerability in Blaine's eyes like this; and he surely hadn't expected to see it happen hours after finding out that Blaine had been raped for Kurt. He'd expected it to be a public fanfare, where Blaine would announce it proudly to the world, without a second of doubt in his eyes. He expected it to be the start of Kurt and Blaine becoming the power couple in the magazines. But here they were, in the most intimate of moments, in the quiet of peace with only their breathing to mar the air. And Blaine was so doubtful—so doubtful about everything, expect his undeniable love for Kurt. No, it wasn't perfect. But only dreams were perfect.

Pressing his lips together, Blaine urged quietly, "Say something."

Unable to form any words at all, Kurt lifted his head from Blaine's arm and instead ducked it into Blaine's, forming his lips on his. Blaine immediately responded, engulfing them in a fiery kiss that meant everything and was so long overdue.

Kicking his leg over Blaine's waist, Kurt rolled until he lay atop Blaine, and his hand skimmed down Blaine's front to the lip of his jeans. He scratched the button away and yanked the zipper down, his movements leisurely and careful, since he realized that Blaine had never been so fragile in his life, not even when he admitted he loved Kurt. Blaine lifted his thighs from the bed and within second his jeans were on the floor between a mixture of Kurt's tugging and Blaine's writhing hips, and his boxers followed soon after. Kurt's blue eyes broke through his closed lids, and he returned his gaze to Blaine's shirtfront. His fingers grazed the first button of the bunch and he unstrapped it from its hole, then moved to the next, while Blaine stroked his back lovingly, his fingertips brushing the round hill of Kurt's ass each time.

Allowing his head to fall onto the pillows, Blaine whispered gruffly, "Do you love me?"

Kurt stroked Blaine's revealed chest from under his shirt, "Yes," he murmured, "_toujours._ And you?"

Blaine hummed lowly, his eyes fluttering shut. Neither was rushed to climax. This was about touch, knowing each other completely. "I do." His eyes snapped open and he pressed a finger into Kurt's pointy chin, his eyes growing wary. "But I don't want you to stay here. I want you to go out and do what you have to first. Make yourself into a somebody. I want you to be happy—whether I'm in the picture or not. But one day, come back to me and when you're ready… I'll marry you."

Kurt nipped his bottom lip, his skin flushing crimson as Blaine stroked his thumb over his mouth. Both of them breathed softly and Kurt tickled his fingers down Blaine's shoulders, peeling his shirt away. Rather than something sudden and urgent, Kurt untied his body from the bed like a ribbon and carefully guided his leg across Blaine's waist. Rising atop Blaine, Kurt bent himself over his lover's chest and pushed his button up farther away, until Blaine finally helped him and lifted his wrists from the bed, allowing Kurt the last nudge to tear it off of Blaine's skin and fling it aside. Both utterly naked and never before so exposed, neither of them lost eye contact—so warm, so needy—and Kurt's plump lips parted with the softest of whispers, "Are you frightened?"

"I'm terrified," Blaine's voice sharply quivered, and his eyes swelled with tears that admitted his absolute horror of facing the future, "But I know it's you I want. I don't doubt you, Kurt. I just… I have no idea what to do or how to make you happy…"

"Shh…" Kurt ducked his head into Blaine's, but instead of the kiss that Blaine expected, Kurt's fingers brushed his lips like silk. Had his eyes not been open, though, he could have easily mistaken it for a kiss. "I'm here. You're always the one comforting me, Blaine. Let me do this for you. You know how you can make me happy? By being the person you are. You are my happiness. I love you, Blaine. Not any façades or silly disguises to keep people out. I love my Blaine, the one who can wake an entire house up at three in the morning for a special showing of The Bachelorette. I loved the Blaine who was so excited when Snooki broke things off with Mike for the third time on Jersey Shore. I love _you_ because, even though you've never believed it, you're the bravest person I've ever had the luck to meet, Blaine Anderson. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I told you, I'll take you whatever way you want to give yourself to me, so… if you're not ready to come out to everyone else, this can be between us. I promise. I'm proud of you already. You've done things no other man could think to do."

"I'm not," Blaine rushed to blurt, then shook his head, but mercifully Kurt's expression didn't waver from his sweetly curious one. He was all ears, no judging. Blaine loved that about him. "I mean… honey… I want to be. Damn, Kurt, do I ever want to be. I want people to know you're mine. Baby… I can't, though. Because of Karofsky. Sweetheart, you don't know everything. I've kept you away from everything I could, but, Kurt, he's more lethal than ever. I believe that he's serious about killing you. Until… I can do something about him or get him away from you, I can't… do anything to provoke him. I don't know what coming out would do, but I know he'd react to it. I can't… risk you, Kurt. The thought of him… causing you any more harm…" Gritting his teeth, Blaine snapped his eyes shut and his stomach clenched as a fuzzy memory of himself pinned to Karofsky's bed as he bit the tip of his tongue off trying to contain his screams contiminated his mind, when he suddenly faded away and Kurt was there, instead, biting his tongue just as hard while Karofsky rammed in and out of him unremittingly.

Kurt didn't reply to that. Instead, he boosted himself up on his elbows and his blond lashes fluttered, his eyes drifting down Blaine's body. Blaine stilled himself entirely to allow Kurt entrance to scrutinize him, his sharp hipbones to his muscular thighs. Kurt's fingers wriggled slightly, clenching up then releasing, and he blinked at Blaine for approval. Blaine nodded his head, "Touch me. You should know my body the way I know yours."

Kurt coyly pressed his hand to Blaine's thigh, his eyes glued to his heavy groin. At last, he declared in more of a statement than a question, "It wasn't you who topped, was it?"

Blaine immediately knew what he was talking about. A brief pause greeted Kurt's question, followed by a curt answer, "No. I didn't."

Kurt didn't twitch a muscle, "I've been noticing," he mumbled soto voce, his eyes still captured by Blaine's thighs, "You've been walking differently. You wince every time you sit down. He didn't treat you well, Blaine."

"No. He didn't."

Receding to silence once more, Kurt shakily lifted his hand to his face and stroked his tongue over one of his fingers. He grasped the chest hair matted onto Blaine's chest with his other hand, then lowered his dampened finger between Blaine's thighs. Blaine helplessly spread them and offered Kurt easy access to his most secret parts. Kurt's finger slipped against his tightened asshole, but with a wiggle and nudge he pushed it in to his knuckle. Blaine inhaled sharply and drew his legs up, which pushed Kurt in another inch. Kurt's eyes returned to his flushing face, his trembling hands urging to meet Kurt's and force him deeper, but he didn't want to rush or startle Kurt into withdrawing completely.

This felt too good to stop.

"It's okay," Blaine nodded his head helplessly, "Kurt… I _want this._"

Kurt's finger immediately popped out and he writhed up Blaine's body, and Blaine eagerly wrapped his hand around Kurt's sex. Positioning his lover, Blaine helped Kurt push his way in, and his world exploded in a mass of fire.

It was hot as hell, but Kurt was an angel, so he probably wasn't damned.

Yet.

* * *

They talked for a long time.

Blaine could hardly remember half the conversation, he was so exhausted. He had a feeling Kurt drifted off to sleep at some points, too, but then jerked himself awake when he was alerted by something else he wanted to tell Blaine. They talked about what life had been like before they met each other, and Kurt told him more than he had planned to hear about what Kurt's experience of coming out was like—how terrified and alone and young he'd been.

Kurt bitter sweetly mentioned his mom at some points, and how she laughed at just about everything, including Burt's horrid jokes. He told Blaine about how one memory he had of her included Burt cracking a childish joke at a young Kurt who hadn't even found it funny, but Elizabeth had laughed so terribly hard milk shot out of her nose one dinnertime. Blaine talked some about his parents, about how the brief and few memories he had of Maddie included her swatting his wrists and barking at him to stand a little straighter, hold his head a little higher, and how his dad had always gotten onto him about how badly he scratched his palms. At the mention of the habit Kurt had lifted Blaine's palm to his lips and indented a kiss to the wounds and scratches, the scars, saying to Blaine that whenever he felt the urge he should think of holding hands with Kurt and ease himself into a sense of tranquility, that his hands could simply lie still without the frantic need to claw.

The conversation remained one-toned, something to fill the hushed air with while they drifted to sleep in each other's arms, and really Blaine just liked the soothing, pretty sound of Kurt's falsetto voice. Especially as he faded deeper and deeper toward sleep and his voice squeaked higher and higher, until Blaine imagined it had reached the highest octave in the human range, but Kurt only far passed that, as well. It was a quiet conversation without much heavy weight to it, but Blaine didn't want anything heavy right after coming out and having some time to spend with Kurt alone, and Kurt wasn't willing to offer it. No mention of Karofsky occurred, and nothing about Blaine's horrendous past even crossed their path. It was simple, peaceful, and Blaine was starting to forget what it felt to be the school asshole, the player. He remembered the anguish that had burned his stomach every morning, the thought of another round of succumbing to Karofsky's manipulative hand and Slusheing kids he didn't even know or had done nothing wrong to him, the same old pattern over and over. With Kurt, no day would ever be the same. Kurt constantly changed, all while staying perfectly the same. Exactly what Blaine needed. The swinging emotions, the new _in's _and _out's,_ the monthly fads that came and went like a bird, never staying in one place for too long, always craving a new setting, Kurt drifted along with these things, but one thing he would always be, would always have.

Blaine's heart.

That was constant, and it was a mutual hunger to claim each other, to forever belong to each other… together.

Things had changed since Blaine had come out, even in the short hours it had been, but one thing Blaine knew for sure.

He wasn't free of his past. That would always be there, hovering somewhere behind him. No, he was free to love Kurt, fully and completely. Just as Kurt deserved.

Just as he deserved.

* * *

"Burt?"

In that second Burt comprehended that something had happened, and he was about to get the talk of his life from Kurt and Blaine, as he'd never heard that voice from Blaine before, so acceding like how a man spoke to his boss to get a raise, so raspy. Like his entire life hung on whatever ensued in the next five minutes.

Flicking his eyes up from his newspaper and rustling the sheets, much to the shock of Pavarotti, who had been perched on the table beside his recliner and bathing himself thoroughly, Burt's eyes were greeted by a half-naked Kurt and Blaine, Kurt dressed merely in one of Blaine's button up shirts and Blaine in a pair of jeans and a button up only buttoned to the center of his chest. Both of them appeared put off by a thing that Burt obviously hadn't been clued in on, Kurt's face almost comically startled, eyes wide and his mouth firm. His fingers clutched Blaine's hand. Blaine zeroed in on Burt's face dead on, and he muttered briefly and bluntly, "We have something to tell you. I'm not… straight."

"I know," Burt grumbled toward his paper, cocking his brows.

"No, Burt…" Blaine blew out between his teeth and scrubbed the nape of his neck, "You don't understand. I've claimed for a long time that I'm half bi-curious or whatever, but… I'm not. I'm gay. I'm really… really gay. For Kurt. I'm in love with him and I haven't been fair to him, not with… not with that. He's been completely honest with me and I want to return the favor, and that includes fessing up about the fact that I'm not into girls. I never have been. I figured if anyone should hear it, it should be my… my family. You guys are family to me. Burt, you _are_ the father I never had. And Kurt is…" Blaine paused longer than he had in his entire explanation, his gaze slipping toward Kurt, who whipped around to blink at him with huge and absolutely terrified eyes. Neither of them knew what was to come, but they knew they had each other to go through the hell. Keeping his eyes locked on Kurt's small, pale face, Blaine finished with a sure whisper, "Kurt's the husband I want to have one day. And… Burt… before I made any decisions, I-I wanted to ask your permission… to have the _honor_ to take your son's hand one day. Not right now, no. Right now, all I want for Kurt is for him to make his dreams come true. To do what he has to in France. He has so many dreams and I believe that because he's the strongest person I've ever met, he has the capability to make all of them happen. So… I want him to worry about doing what he's meant to do, and we'll think about marriage later. For one day when he's ready." Blaine returned his gaze to Burt, "I respect you. I'm grateful for everything you've done. You've given me a place to stay, yeah, but you also gave me the greatest love I will ever have in my life. You raised him with courage and bravery and I know no other person who would ever have the guts to stay in another country at thirteen, basically alone, except for family he barely knows. Kurt deserves a much better man than me. He deserves perfection, and I'm not. But… I'll take care of him. I'll love him with every moment. I want you to know that I don't need your permission. I'd marry him, anyway. But he means the world to you, and you mean everything to him, so I'd give anything to have it. I want to be a part of your family… completely."

Speechless and alarmed—even though he'd seen this coming since the first moment he'd met Blaine—Burt stuck his tongue against his jaw in consideration and flashed his eyes toward Kurt, who also seemed just as thrown off by everything hitting them so suddenly. He thought about asking Kurt if he was sure this was what he wanted, a life with Blaine—a marriage, and at such a young age—but he forced himself against it. Many people thought Kurt as naïve. He'd always been the type to love so easily, but never to trust easy. Anyone deserved a happy life, in his mind, and happy endings were an absolute must. Therefore, people cast him off as just a silly, boyish dreamer, yet Kurt was much smarter and wittier than at the initial appearance. A ball of emotions, Kurt often jumped to conclusions at things simply dropped into his lap on the spot; ideas, though, that he had the ability to ponder on, he always drove full heartedly into. And Blaine was one of those. His son must have observed, scrutinized and studied Blaine a million times over to realize that Blaine was the one he wanted, and for Blaine—a straight boy with a girlfriend in the beginning—to come out and ask for Kurt's hand in marriage, time and effort must have been put in on his half.

His son knew what he wanted, and if it was Blaine—which Burt couldn't deny relieving in the thought of calling him a son-in-law—then, so be it. It wasn't costing Burt anything to draw a boy he loved into his family.

Peeling his arms from his chest, Burt held them out and Pavarotti nipped and chirped at his left one, which was just above the level where he could hop onto it. Almost staggering, Blaine lunged forward and fell into Burt's arms, and at Kurt's soft sound of awe and Blaine's evident, sparkling eyes, he knew he hadn't done his son wrong. Squeezing Blaine against him, Burt whispered into Blaine's right ear, "Make him happy."

Blaine had no plans to do any differently.

* * *

"You don't trust me," Kurt laughed lightly, his hips wriggling as he waved a pair of scissors in Blaine's face. Blaine scrunched his nose and leaned away from them, much to Kurt's amusement, the latter flipping a fallen piece of hair off Blaine's nose.

"No, I trust you, sweetheart. Full heartedly, believe me." Blaine pushed the tip of the scissors lightly away with the pad of his finger, then returned his relaxed hands to his lap, "It's you with a pair of scissors that I don't trust. Have you… done a haircut before, honey?"

"Yes, on Barbie," Kurt said confirmingly, and Blaine gave him a glowering look that seemed to offend him, as he stamped his foot and tightened his grip on his scissors, "And she looked fabulous, if I might add. It was the bob with light bangs across her forehead and a dashing streak of pink over to the—"

"Baby." Blaine muttered flatly and scooted back in his chair, his eyes drifting away from Kurt and toward the mirror, where his bland expression stared at him. "Don't… Don't turn me into Zayn Malik from that No Direction band. I love the idea of you experimenting, but… I just want it all off. Nothing too spectacular."

"One Direction," Kurt corrected quietly, focusing more in on measuring the length of Blaine's curls and scruffing them with his fingertips so they draped in their natural part, "And you're more of a Harry Styles. Zayn doesn't have your gorgeous curls. Then again… neither does Harry. You pull them off better." Acknowledging that he might be babbling, Kurt cut himself off and weaved back into the main discussion, "Don't worry, I won't turn you into a bushy haired poodle. I'm not interested in the hairstyling business so it doesn't hurt my feelings that you won't let me do anything drastic. My passion is Broadway. But I still don't understand why you won't just visit a professional. I know quite a few good ones."

Blaine looked at Kurt in the mirror as he combed his fingers through Blaine's bouncing curls, still surveying exactly what needed done. He thought Kurt might have trailed off about listing his most professional, dignified and fashionable designers, though his mind was caught on other things. Like how good Kurt looked under the bathroom lighting while his mouth switched shapes every few seconds as he blurted out words, sometimes grinning, sometimes simply forming the words, but his lips were so damned pink and delicious that Blaine didn't care what position he was looking at them in, as long as he could admire them.

In the mirror, Kurt's face suddenly dropped of all emotion except concern, his attention on Blaine, "Blaine?" he whispered hesitantly.

Blaine snapped out of his trance, immediately responding, "Yeah, honey?"

Kurt's feet shuffled, "You never told me why you wanted to cut your hair. Why now?"

Blinking, Blaine nipped his bottom lip and shifted in his chair, then sighed and glanced down at his lap. He reached up to touch his hand to Kurt's, who stretched his fingers out at the instant pleasure the mere brush of the knuckles buzzed through them like warm honey on an icy morning. He curled his fingers around Kurt's palm and dragged Kurt's hand to his lips, nudging a kiss into his knuckles. Finally, he lowered Kurt's hand against his shoulder then cupped his own hand over it to hold it there. "It was my reputation—why I grew my hair out. I… used to wear my hair short and gel it. I looked like a crossover of Elvis and Johnny Cash. Then Karofsky told me I looked like a fag one day, so I trashed all of my gel and grew my hair out. Honestly, I hate looking like Medusa. I want it all off."

"You don't look like Medusa, just my bushy haired boyfriend," Kurt softly disagreed with a playful smile, then continued, "but I think we could work with you. I think keeping the sides softer and adding on more sideburns, then piling it up on top would be dazzling on you. Do you want to run out to the store tomorrow morning, too, and buy some gel to sport your new style for school? I don't use it but I know of a fantastic brand from one of my hairspray designers."

Blaine stiffened his jaw, but in the end he nodded his head, "Yeah," he admitted quietly, wondering if it was even possible to regain the life he once had. "I want to. Kurt… thanks."

"For what?" Kurt scruffed his hair again, returning to his business of cutting Blaine's hair.

"For giving me my life back," Speaking those words aloud gave him a sense that it was really happening, that he was taking back what was once his, before Karofsky had stolen everything from him.

With Kurt's love, he really thought it was something he could actually accomplish and succeed at. He was taking his life back, whether Karofsky handed it to him or not. There was no doubt in his mind that he could win at this with the first snip of his hair, and his eyes followed the long, heavy curl as it swayed and drifted toward Kurt's feet. _I am Blaine Anderson, not Karofsky's punching bag but Kurt's beloved,_ he told himself, eyeballing that single curl abandoned at Kurt's toe as he rose up on it to snip more accurately. _And I like boys. One, to be specific._

* * *

"Train me." Blaine blurted to Santana, who snapped her face out of her manual of how to concoct the energy drink that motivated Sue so often. She wasn't sure if she would drink it or not, as she and Sue shared the same level of bitchiness, and if those energy drinks tinkered with a nerve in Sue that somehow made her slightly antisocial and a total psychotic twit, Santana didn't want to head down that route.

At the intensity in Blaine's eyes, Santana started to snort, but she couldn't get the rest of it out. Santana had never been speechless before, except when she'd been outted, yet suddenly no words crossed her mind. None at all. There Blaine stood in his Armani get-up, his sweats and football jersey the first to go out the door on his long and uncertain path to total gayness with Kurt. She'd never thought his hair would go, though. Trimmed close to his scalp at the sides, his thick hair at the top of his head with a new part closer to his left side had been gelled down like a tamed lion's mane. And she hated that he looked so damned sexy, even if he was borderline Elvis.

"Blaine…" she shook her head weakly, "your hair. What the hell did you do to it?"

"Kurt cut it off," he pushed the comment aside, as though he didn't expect her not to wonder about everything she'd previously thought of him. "I need to tell you something that you can't tell anyone else."

"I—Wait… What did you mean by training—?"

"I'm gay."

The statement was so flat, so sure, that Santana didn't believe it. Had she heard him wrong? When she didn't comment, he continued with a helpless smile, "I came out. To Kurt—and his dad. And then I emailed my brother, so you're the fourth person to know. You won't tell anyone?"

"Blaine…" Again, she had no idea what to say, so instead she flung her arms around him and embraced him warmly, "That's great. I'm proud of you. But why don't you want to tell anyone else?"

Blaine's growing smile tugged off of his face and he licked his lips, "Karofsky. He's what I'm worried about. I can't—I can't trigger him, Santana. I have no idea what will provoke him, and Kurt's safety is my biggest concern. I want you to train me, Santana. To fight. So that… if anything happens, I'll be able to… protect Kurt."

One brow inched toward her hairline, "Train you how? I would, Pretty Pony, but I'm only a Cheerio. The only weights I lift are the other cheerleaders."

"I mean… a few days a week at lunch or an hour or two after school. Kurt's into the idea because that gives him a chance for extra practice with his dance routine, and… I know _how _to train. I was a football player. I'm asking you to time me for how many punches I can get in thirty seconds, or spotting me while I lift weights. I'm asking you to do this… because of Kurt. I love him too much to let my arrogance get in the way of thinking I can fight Karofsky and take him down every time. I need to get better—for Kurt. Football training was just a time to talk to my friends. It wasn't about making myself stronger. I have something—someone—to fight for now. Please… Santana."

"I'll do it," Santana agreed easily, grinning wickedly, "You know I'm into anything that will end Karofsky. Maybe I'm not doing it for Prancy Smurf, but… I might actually miss him if Karofsky did anything horrible to him that could draw him out of school. He's the only flare this school has, and he's amusing to watch in French class. He practically jumps onto the teacher with an answer to every question. I'd get bored in there without him."

Reaching to smooth his fingers through his hair, Blaine only touched hardened gel in his shortened hair, so he jerked his hand down. "Thank you, Santana."

Santana yanked him into another hug, smiling against his crisp shirt scented in some sort of spicy tang that smelled much better than a sweat smothered uniform, "Hey, it's time you started getting your life together and realizing who you are. If Kurt is the reason for that, then I'm all for it. You sucked as a straight guy. You made really gay references and you were shit in bed. You were never interested in my boobs. That was a dead giveaway. No guy can sleep with me and not want to touch my boobs." At Blaine's screwed up face, Santana smirked and yanked his gelled hair lightly, just for teasing, "I like you better this way."

_You're not the only one who thinks it's time,_ Blaine thought of his boyfriend waiting for him back at home, so with a murmur to Santana he headed out of the school locker room, prepared more than anything to get started on being gay with—and for—Kurt.

It was less terrifying than he thought it might be, just as long as Kurt was there. He wondered about tomorrow, though, and how things might change for his first official school day of being gay. Then again, he'd always been gay. It just took his sweet angel to make him realize that.


	37. Poker Face

Author's note: Hey, readers. I'm so sorry about all the hiatuses! I'm trying as hard as I can to get my chapters up, but start expecting them with two to three week breaks between them. I started college searching not too long ago and getting my grades up is important right now, so I'm trying to focus a little more on that. This story will be continued, though! Anyway, if anyone knows of any good colleges for writing in the U.S., please let me know! It'd be a huge and well appreciated favor! As always, ideas and suggestions can be expressed via PM or review. I love all of you and I appreciate more than anything the work and ideas my unofficial beta, JMarieAllenPoe, has done and given for this story.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Glee. If I did, Klaine would not be going through a "break-up" right now. :(

* * *

"Harder," Santana's voice cracked along with the seams of the rubber material tearing apart with every upper cut of Blaine's nearly bloodied knuckles. "Come on, Blaine! You can't get exhausted in a fight. Imagine it's Karofsky!"

Snarling, Blaine coiled his piercing red and throbbing hand and slugged it into the dangling, dented punching bag. Blaine's momentary provocation to picture Karofsky then beat the hell out of his face flung away from him, whacking the wall then drifting back to position, bobbing like a duck on the water. Cotton dripped out of the fresh wound on the side of it.

He backed away from the punching bag, stumbling into a bench and nearly falling over it. Shakily he threw himself down and smeared his forearm over his glistening forehead. Panting for air, Blaine fanned his burning face. "I've never trained this way before." His throat broke hoarsely, a foul taste of rusted pennies grinding his mouth with each swallow.

Santana plopped beside him, exhausted just from watching him work for the past hour, "Don't give up." She encouraged, for her own sake, and Brittany's, Kurt's, and Blaine's. Blaine was the only one who could break Karofsky, since Blaine was the only one Karofsky truly cared about—be it the sick and obsessive way he did, but he did. Running her fingers through her hair and sighing explosively, Santana leaned her head on his shoulder, his muscles expanding harshly against her hair, "Please, don't give up," her voice wavered quietly, her eyes drifting towards Blaine's hands when he lifted his phone and flipped it open, revealing a sweet, gentle picture of Kurt cooing to a tiny, yellow bird as he strutted across a desk.

"I can't," Blaine tilted his phone toward her for proof, "Santana, I… can't. Giving up isn't a possibility anymore. It's exactly what he wants. He's wearing me down just so he can stop lying in the grass and move. Karofsky's going mad over Kurt. I can't ever have a moment of weakness with him."

Santana frowned and looped her arms around his, relieved that there was actually a man out there who understood her. Brittany was her only confidant left and she'd been overwhelmed by baby hormones lately, and no one else gave a damn about Karofsky's harassing. At least she had this with Blaine, though. She wasn't going through this almost completely alone. "N-No… Blaine… it's not just that." Shaking her head, she closed her eyes in denial that her entire life had gone down the drain—because of Karofsky, "I should have told you sooner than this, but I was at the courthouse last night. The decision was made." Inwardly damning herself, Santana brushed a knuckle over her teary eyes and released a brief, humorless laugh, "Karofsky got the baby."

Blaine stiffened against her, and he snapped his phone shut after firing off a text to Finn that he'd be down in the auditorium in a minute and thanking him for looking out for Kurt while Blaine was training, "Karofsky got… Are you serious? He's going to kill it by the time it turns three years old! Why didn't you and Brittany get the baby?"

"We have him on the weekends," Santana handed over Blaine's water bottle, and he popped the lid off and doused his shining neck in the cool liquid, "and on some holidays. The judge was a total homophobe. He thought we would screw our baby up with our vagina on vagina sex. But since we weren't child molesters or crack heads, it was illegal for him to take the baby away from us completely."

Blaine slid an arm around her and squeezed her tightly, but didn't offer any other comforting touch besides that, "I'm going to be here for you," he promised her weakly, "I still care about you, San. I promise you that you're going to have me through this."

Santana sniffed and buried her head in his chest, his powerful heart thundering against her ear, and without a hint of doubt in her voice she whispered throatily, "His name's Hunter."

"Whose?" Blaine furrowed his brows, glancing down at her.

"My baby," she managed a half-hearted smirk, running her fingers over her lips as though a smile were the most uncommon of things to her, "Hunter. I chose the name on my own. Brittany wanted to name him after Lord Tubbington, but I chose the name after you. Not your birth name, but you above anyone else showed me that life had to be hunted for, and that's exactly what my baby will have to do. I'm being forced to hand Hunter over to a psychotic man who wants him dead. Hunter's going to have to hunt for life if he wants to live it, and if that means going to any lengths to get by on what he has, he'll have to do it." Starting to scoot off the bench as the lunch period bell ringed through the room, Santana turned to him and touched his cheek, "Thank you, Blaine. You're the only guy who's actually given a damn before. I've been a total bitch… a lot—especially to you—so… I'm really glad you're here for me now."

"Everybody deserves a second chance," Blaine whispered with disheartened eyes, a mere flicker of courage in them. Other than that, everything in them had completely died. Because of Karofsky. "Somebody I love very much taught me that."

If she wasn't mistaken, as she slid off the bench and collected her cheerleading bag, she caught him flipping open his phone again, and for a moment simply gazing so longingly at his screensaver. She could see how obvious it was how terribly he wanted a good life with Kurt, just as she felt about Brittany. Kurt was the only flicker of happiness in his life left. In the end, there were no compromises. It was either Kurt or Karofsky who would be standing after it was all over.

There were no in-betweens.

* * *

"_Piqué's!_" Kurt clapped his hands, squeaking at the groaning and fumbling football team. "Phil, no! Jut, don't kick. Come on, _tout le monde_, you're getting better!" Sashaying over to the sidelines, Kurt wiped his brow and blew out heavily, dramatically waving his hands toward his face. "No one knows the true meaning of dancing until they teach it. I don't know how Cassandra July did it. She's a fabulous inspiration for her perseverance."

Blaine smirked and tore his water bottle from his lips, squirting a stream of it into Kurt's juicily plump mouth, "You're doing great, baby. Some of them are really starting to pull together. I'm so proud of you."

"It is exhausting, though," Kurt smoothed his perfectly sprayed hair, even after a little less than two hours of teaching an amateur class. Touching his fingers to the tops of his cheeks and pinching them for color, he groaned, "My body is aching. I believe I deserve a hot bath and a foot massage from one Blaine Anderson when we get home."

"Let me take over for the last half hour," Blaine suggested, pacing behind Kurt and digging his thumbs into Kurt's taut shoulder, "Sweetheart, sit down for a while. Your body's so tense." Lowering Kurt onto one of the prop benches where he could still watch the stage for his own entertainment—or frustration, seeing as the few football players suffering through the remainder of this who couldn't afford the damage to their grades were still clumsily hopping around and moving their bodies like kittens taking their first steps—Blaine handed over his water bottle, "Have the rest of this, honey." Bending for a brief kiss, Blaine moaned against his searching lips, "Mm… I love you. Kurt… you were really sexy out there. Your dancing is beautiful."

Kurt nipped his bottom lip playfully, leaning in for another breathtaking kiss, "_Merci,_ but I must give Madam July credit. She taught me everything."

"Yes, but you mastered it and made everything your own." Blaine muttered against his mouth, holding his golden gaze to Kurt's sparkling, affectionate eyes, their lashes nearly brushing and flirting, "Believe me, Kurt, no one moves their hips quite like yours."

After one last kiss and assuring that Kurt was occasionally sipping out of his bottle each time he remembered it was in his hand, Blaine backed away from him and spun to face the group of them still struggling for balance after lifting their feet for only three seconds at most, and a helpless moan escaped his lips. Damn, what he wouldn't have paid to get Kurt home at that second and plop him in the bath just to listen to him mewl at the hot water seeping through his pores, and watch the way he splashed and soaped his shiny, slippery body, so pale and perfect.

Distracting himself to what was required of him, though, Blaine backed away from Finn as he stumbled out of the group and nearly fell on his ass. With a moment of teetering, he caught himself and blinked dizzily, so Blaine approached him and muttered, "Keep your feet closer together, eyes up, hands in front of you. You're less likely to lose your balance. Keep working with it. You're getting better, Finn." Not giving Finn a chance to reply as he gratefully slunk away with the advice stored away for later use, Blaine flicked his eyes down to his watch and eyeballed the twitching minute hand flick to the right. He jerked his gaze over to a sleepy Kurt who rested his head against a wall and hummed lightly to himself, something he often did when he couldn't rest and wanted to lull himself, only to stop when Blaine usually took over for him and sang him lightly into his sweet dreams. Seeing that Kurt was absolutely exhausted, Blaine shouted, "Okay, guys, we're done for today! We'll pick this up tomorrow! Practice _piqué's_ tonight!"

The group of them parted like a zipper, the glee kids heading backstage to collect their bags while the football players leapt off the stage. Whipping his head around, Blaine eyed Kurt gratefully move off the bench carefully, kneeling by Blaine and Kurt's shared bag—although Kurt mainly used it for cheerleading, since Blaine didn't have any more sports equipment to lug around. Blaine rocked on his heels and studied Kurt's gentle hands unzip the top of it and he dug around inside, then extracted his frayed, jean shorts. He plopped onto the stage and wriggled his feet into the pair, sliding them up to his thighs and covering the bottoms of his leotard.

Trailing across the stage, Blaine lowered beside of Kurt and softly nuzzled his cheek, greedy for any taste of his warm, silky skin, like milk and cream on his tongue. His lips falling against Kurt's and pushing deeper, Blaine stroked Kurt's bottom lip wetly and drew a quiet sound from Kurt's throat, their mouths parting and popping together while their tongues twisted and danced together, soft ribbons tangling and tying in a knot never to be separated. Kurt helplessly craved Blaine's power and he urged himself onto Blaine, his trembling hands cupping Blaine's cheeks and he twisted his head to give him complete access to every corner of Kurt's sweet, small mouth. Blaine instantly twined his arms around Kurt's wiry body and yanked him chest to chest, pulling for more, so desperate for more. Kurt pushed his mouth away only for a second to brush his knuckles over Blaine's neck, and he flicked his blue eyes over Blaine's weary face, "It's okay," he murmured to Blaine lowly, still stroking him like he was comforting a cat who just had his tail yanked, "It's going to be okay, Blaine. I promise."

"I wish I could give you the world," Blaine growled, fighting the tears swelling in his throat.

Kurt managed a weak smile at Blaine and touched Blaine's limp curls with the tips of his fingers, then he turned his attention to plucking his Prada flats out of his bag and bending over himself as he unlaced his ballet flats. "I have the world," Kurt admitted gently, surrendering his feet when Blaine collected his ankles in one fist and laid them against his lap. He placed a hand on Blaine's thigh and observed Blaine swiftly and easily slip his tiny feet out of his flats, then wedge one after the other into his Prada's, "I have you, Blaine. You don't have to force yourself into anything too quickly to make me happy. I know you're still going through things you won't tell me about. The baby… Karofsky… your newfound sexuality. You know I won't ever abandon you, though, don't you?"

Blaine didn't respond to that; instead, he slid a hand under Kurt's thigh and tugged one of his legs into the air, Kurt easily complying and keeping his leg lax in Blaine's hand. He bitter sweetly nudged a kiss onto the top of Kurt's foot, the part of it still showing, and he placed Kurt's leg back down. "I love you," he whispered, pressing his cheek into Kurt's thigh and closing his eyes.

"Take me out to dinner tonight," Kurt suggested, even though Blaine knew better that when Kurt stated, it meant he was giving a demand, not an offer. After Blaine didn't react to that, Kurt continued staunchly, "It will help, Blaine. We can talk about things—"

Kurt froze the second Blaine's phone vibrated against his thigh, and with a sound of frustration Blaine dug it out and checked the caller I.D. Blaine lifted his head, holding up a finger to Kurt, "Hold on, sweetheart. It's your dad." Flipping the phone open as he looped an arm around Kurt and tugged his purring lover to his chest, Blaine cradled the phone to his ear, "Hey, Burt. Is everything okay?"

"Hey, kid," Burt muttered casually, "Can you bring Kurt home now? I think Pavarotti has the flu and I don't know a thing about giving a bird medicine. Oh, and… I was wondering if you could meet me in the garage when you get home. You and I need to have a little talk, Blaine."

* * *

Blaine palmed the garage door leading out to Burt's shop, the grinding chisel of metal sawing metal disturbing the peaceful air inside. Glancing back over his shoulder to where Kurt was perched in front of the TV with one of his many yoga videos playing images of workout positions, Blaine watched Kurt teeter into half of a pushup form, his butt pointed toward the ceiling. Blaine immediately tore his gaze away, fearing sporting a hard-on or drool on his lip from how good Kurt's mouthwatering ass looked in Blaine's baggy sweatpants. The material slightly pushed up the crack of his bottom when he stretched up, and Blaine thought about just how much he wanted to push his cock up there instead.

Behind him Pavarotti, who they discovered had started molting and shedding his feathers for the coming spring, guarded Kurt from the coffee table, spastically twittering and wiggling his tail feathers—at least, when he wasn't bent over the leftover sushi in Kurt's takeout box, which Blaine had picked up for dinner that night on the way home. Kurt and Blaine both compromised on the agreement to take Kurt out that weekend once the performance for Booty Camp was over and Kurt could, for the most part, relax while Blaine took over for his part of it. Kurt abruptly moaned from the floor as he arched into the doggy position, much to Blaine's regret when his hand helplessly drifted to his stirring groin.

"Pavarotti, these exercises are very relaxing," Kurt informed his bird, who immediately started stretching his legs back as Kurt did just to amuse and satisfy Kurt, "They might help you feel better during your molting, sweet baby. Daddy might just have to look on Rue La La for some canary exercise videos, shouldn't he?

Pavarotti alertly chirped and puffed himself up like a cotton ball, his feet patting against the coffee table while he eyeballed Kurt, then he returned to ducking into the takeout box and lapping up the sauce, not interested in the least in the idea of doing anything except eating his morning, afternoon and evening meals—and sometimes a late night snack when he got fussy, sleeping on Kurt's pillow at night and hitching a ride on Kurt and Blaine's shoulders during the day. Like many birds might, Pavarotti waved off any proposition of birdy yoga and exercise.

The screaming of the chainsaw cut off in the shop, reminding Blaine of what was required of him, so with a frown Blaine tore his gaze away from his boyfriend attempting to plead with Pavarotti to join him on his yoga mat, and he pushed the door open. He wedged only a shoulder inside, examining the shop he'd been in a thousand times before. Musty air thick with dust and dirt swarmed his senses, and the constant huffing and blowing of machinery pierced Blaine's eardrums like a knife.

The dying florescent lighting swinging above their heads, illuminating the particles floating and contaminating the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe, blinded Blaine momentarily and he blinked his eyes at the room smeared with black, thick oil and rust, so different from the house that was two steps behind him and so robed by Kurt's more feminine-meets-masculine tastes. Otherwise, it was fairly obvious that Kurt had never once been in the garage.

Squinting through the tainted air, Blaine checked over his shoulder one last time to where Kurt had given up his yoga in favor of plopping onto his yoga mat and patting his knees for Pavarotti to hop into his lap. The twittering bird flapped his wings and popped off the table, wandering over to Kurt and tugging on the fabric of his sweatpants. "Hey, honey," he called out to Kurt, who flicked his blue gaze up.

"Yes?" Kurt peeled his bird from the yoga mat and pressed a brief kiss to his beak, then stretched his arm out as Pavarotti busied himself with climbing the length of his sleeve up to his shoulder.

Blaine gestured to the garage, "I'll be with your dad for a while, sweetheart," he explained to Kurt's primarily blank face, "If you get tired, don't wait up for me."

"Oh, I won't get tired," Kurt hopped onto the pads of his feet, skirting through the entryway that connected the living room to the garage. Approaching Blaine, Kurt rubbed his hands over Blaine's chest, "Tonight on Rue La La they're holding a bidding on Miss Taylor's Diamond Necklace and Pendant from the Elizabeth Taylor collection and I _have _to stay up for that."

Blaine helplessly smirked and clasped Kurt's elbows in his palms, leaning forward for a loving kiss, "Kurt, you've told me before that those things go for millions of dollars. But, don't worry… one day I'll get you your own Elizabeth Taylor Diamond Necklace and Pendant. One way or the other, I'll do it."

A bright smile curved Kurt's lips, exposing his small sets of pearly teeth, "I would adore if you did but I already have the best jewelry in the world." Flaunting his bubble gum wrapper ring, Kurt held up his left hand and draped it in front of Blaine's face, so Blaine immediately clasped Kurt's wrist in his palm and indented his lips against Kurt's ring finger, suckling the tip of it between his lips.

"Beautiful fingers," he whispered against Kurt's knuckle, and Kurt eagerly giggled with satisfaction at the compliment.

Blaine caringly wound his arms around Kurt's plentiful waist, right to the gentle swell of his ass, and tugging him length to length with him he ducked his head to interlock his lips with Kurt's already parted pair. Caressing Kurt's mouth with his tongue, the tip of it sliding past Kurt's rosy lips and gliding over Kurt's pointy tongue eager to tangle with his, Blaine grunted and wedged an arm under Kurt's ass, then lifted him onto his own feet to tattoo him on his skin. Kurt tilted his head slightly to appease Blaine, soft kitten mewls escaping his throat as one of his hands brushed Blaine's thigh, but he left it there, not daring to go any further when he was aware his dad was just in the other room. Blaine's hips jerked as though to urge Kurt to press _some_ part of himself against Blaine's steel crotch, but Kurt never moved, and Blaine was growing so needy, his skin burning fire and his clothes three times too small to contain his pulsating groin.

Suddenly, a sweet sound like hot sugar in his mouth broke from Kurt's throat, and Kurt tossed his head back as he was enflamed by Blaine's touch. Blaine groaned lowly, pressing his lips to the hollow of Kurt's throat, which roused a gargly purr from deep within Kurt's chest. "Beautiful, sweet lips… _and_ the perfect neck. You torture me, Kurt. You're too lovely for your own good."

Kurt flushed and blinked, looping his arms around Blaine's shoulders and tickling Blaine's shoulder blades with his fingertips, "I didn't mean for that to happen."

Blaine shook his head, swaying Kurt's curvy body in his arms, "N-No, honey… don't apologize for that, Kurt. I love you… and kissing you as often as possible. I just can't get enough of you. You don't need to feel sorry that I have a constant craving for your pretty, little mouth."

The pink deepened to a gorgeous rose against the cerulean of Kurt's eyes, fanned by the lightest lashes Blaine had ever seen. Suddenly, Kurt nipped his lusciously apple red lip and gnawed the soft skin, so Blaine brushed his thumb over it and the beautiful, round mouth parted. "Like the song," he whispered to Blaine's chest, his eyes cast in that direction, "Constant Craving. The song." Blaine nudged him up, startling him into brightening to a shocking strawberry.

"Right," Blaine greedily cupped Kurt's cheeks in his hands, pressing a firm but gently searching kiss to his mouth before releasing him, "like the song. You're my constant craving, Kurt."

"I'm happy I am," Kurt admitted, pressing his oval nails into the back of Blaine's neck, then he started to peel away. "I'm happy to be yours, Blaine. You've known that all along, though."

Blaine grinned after Kurt, holding his eyes to Kurt's swishing form as he retreated toward the living room, where Pavarotti eagerly awaited him, "I've known since the day we met, Kurt," Blaine muttered, and he wasn't sure if he was more divulging that to himself—that it'd been clear since the moment he first looked into those blue eyes that no other love except Kurt's would be sufficient any longer—or to Kurt. He watched Kurt lower onto the couch and curl his finger out for Pavarotti, the tiny bird twittering and climbing across the couch to reach him.

"It's just nice to hear you say it," Blaine whispered lowly, partially wishing that Kurt had been in hearing range for that, but also knowing it was better he hadn't. After all, he'd promised himself to support Kurt in everything he did, including leaving him for a life better than the one he was offered in Ohio—with Blaine, but Blaine knew he had to let him go.

And simply trust that he'd come back for Blaine one day.

Abruptly recalling his task at hand, Blaine leaned against the garage door again and ducked inside, "Hey, Burt?" he called into the odorous, fumy shop, spying the cash register by a stack of abandoned boxes in the corner. "Sorry I'm late, I picked up dinner on the way home and had to find Kurt's yoga mats in the storage closet—"

"You're fine, kid," hollered Burt's voice from across the garage, and the sound of a slamming car hood drummed through the air. Blaine immediately clicked the door shut, for fear of interrupting Kurt's peaceful yoga with the raucous of Burt's tools clacking and clanging. "Over here, Blaine. Oh, can you fetch me that toolbox I put on the hood of that Hummer when you get down here?"

Blaine shoveled his fingers through his hair and trekked down the two stairs spilling onto the concrete flooring, and he flicked his eyes among the rows of cars for any signs of human life. Spying Burt leaned over the engine of an elevated Toyota and toying with the trinkets that had been busted up, he cleared his throat and swept the toolbox off of the car beside of the Toyota. Briefly digging through it, Blaine extracted a wrench—which Burt appeared to be trying to substitute with a clamp wedged around a banged up bar—and clamped it around the bar. With a twist, he loosened it, and it popped out of place. Burt jerked up, his brows arching at Blaine's nifty work. Without a word of thanks, he yanked the tool from Blaine's hands, "Sit down, Blaine," he ordered without much affair, nodding toward the hood of a Corvette.

Throwing himself onto the hood, Blaine spread his thighs and drew a _K_ idly into the dust festering on the rotting metal. He wiped it away when he spotted Burt profusely studying him for signs of nervousness, thumb-twiddling or chewed lips. Observing none, except for the palm he missed that Blaine had stuffed into his pocket and clawed at relentlessly—he'd made himself a home of the Hummel house, but he knew that no home had to last forever, even in the case of biological family—Burt cocked his brows and slammed the hood shut. Lowering onto the edge of it, Burt started with a bit of small talk that offset Blaine none in the least. When Burt demanded conversation, it wasn't to chat over the weather with tea and crumpets. "How was Booty Camp?"

Blaine chose to amuse him, just as much of a man of little words as Burt. The partner in the relationship who usually relied on Kurt to provoke a conversation—which he always managed quite smoothly, Blaine mouthed the words slowly, "Fine. Kurt's accomplishing some great stride with the football players. Their footwork is getting more graceful, at least… you know, for football. Kurt's talents amaze me. You're lucky to be his dad."

Burt bit the inside of his cheek, wrapping his arms over his chest moodily. He tilted his neck toward the floor, his eyes focused on his scuffed feet, "Raising a kid's hard, Blaine." He rubbed his nape and adjusted himself, but other than that went perfectly still, "Kurt's never been easy. When he was born, you know, I thought one day we'd go to games together—every Sunday, like the ones I sit on that couch and watch on TV. I've never not loved him for one moment. I'm so damned proud of him. He has his mother's spirit, and she never caved for anyone. She had so much drive, you know. She _needed_ to be on Broadway singing, and studying the arts, and going to the Global's to cheer on her idols. In the whole time we were married, I only saw her slow down once. We didn't even go on a honeymoon, Blaine. She was that determined to make herself a name, and I didn't blame her. Life was too short, and I didn't want to hold her back. It was about three months into her pregnancy with Kurt that she took time off, and she stayed home often. When Kurt was born, the first thing she said to me when she held him in her arms was that Kurt was her biggest dream and she loved no one more, and to always make sure he knew his dreams were doable, no matter how extravagant. She believed in him, so I did, too. Before she left for France to continue her dreams after Kurt got a little older, she told me to remind Kurt as often as possible that no other person in the world was more important than him, and one day all of his critics would work for him. Damn, did Elizabeth love Kurt. I never saw her want anything more than him."

Blaine leaned slightly forward, touching Burt's wrist, "Burt, I know she meant everything to you and Kurt, but you don't have to talk about this if it gets to you. You don't need stress right now."

"Damn my heart." Burt blurted flatly, leaving no room for argument, "You of all people need to hear this. I've seen you worry so much over that baby your brother's expecting you to raise, and it's gonna be rough at nineteen to care for a little one. You're not the father but you're gonna be the only thing it has for a while—except Kurt, but he won't be around it much. I want you to know that even after Kurt's gone you can stay here with that baby. I've made mistakes as a father with Kurt, but I want to help you through this."

Blaine glanced at his lap, his digging pausing for a moment, "Thank you, Burt. I'm glad I can rely on you. You're more of a father than my father was."

"Yeah," Burt swallowed up into his protective shell again, busying himself with mixing up the tools in the toolbox, and he rubbed the bald of his head distractedly, "Listen, Blaine… I need to talk to you about something, as an adult. And then… I think it'd be best if you talked to Kurt about it. I'm not afraid of talking to my own son, but he understands you better. You're good at keeping him calm in stressful situations, especially when he doesn't understand things. I've started… going out with someone… on dates."

Blaine's heart shot into his throat, and the digging commenced feverishly. He dug so hard the blood immediately pooled into his palms, warm stickiness in the lines and callouses of his skin. When Blaine didn't reply, Burt turned his face away as though shamed and casually lifted the Toyota hood again, "She's a very nice woman, Blaine. Finn Hudson's mother, in fact. Gets the bills paid on time, buys the healthful groceries, cooks dinner every night. Her boy's a good kid. Finn's nice, ain't he? You and him are good friends."

Again, Blaine didn't reply, but his jaw dropped open and the clawing ripped away at his skin so harshly that he thought he might touch bone in just a few more scrapes. Burt continued working, pretending to be ignorant of Blaine's absolute shock, "She's a very motherly figure. Called one night when Finn was gone and thought he might be with you. I told her no, of course, but then she got to talking about Kurt and how Finn told her about his modeling overseas and she said what an amazing kid I'd raised and how she'd like to meet him one day if that was possible."

"You haven't told Kurt. Why didn't you talk to him about this? Elizabeth was everything to him; you can't just keep this from him—" Blaine whispered finally, shaking his head and touching his fingers to his hair.

Burt slammed his screwdriver down, an abrupt clanging noise in the echoing garage, "Dammit, Blaine, you're not naïve! You know I'm not replacing Elizabeth! Don't bring her into this! I'm an aging, widowed man who has _no one_ to rely on during the day! _No one _will ever replace Elizabeth—"

"But that's how he's going to take it!" Blaine shouted, jumping from the car hood and throwing his hands apart, "You went behind his back and started seeing another woman! You haven't talked to him about it then you want _me_ to relay it to him because you're terrified of facing your gay son who has more emotions and cries a little easier than the straight brute you expected to father? Burt, that is the most selfish, cowardly thing I've ever heard of! And, you know what, I work my _ass_ off at school to protect Kurt. He has a psycho stalking him at school who's just waiting for us to do something he can jump all over! You have no idea how hard it is keeping my love for Kurt a secret at school—that I'm _gay._ That he brought me out of the closet. But I do it so he can stay safe—or safer than what he is. You dating Carole will bring Finn and Rachel over here more, and Rachel is absolutely obsessed with me and she'll do anything to break Kurt and I up. What if she goes in our room and sees lube? Or _something_ gay? She'll out me and Karofsky will attack. _It's what he does._ Kurt is in danger, and you're out dating right after he came home from the country he loved to be with you in case you _died._ Burt, I can't even—" Choking on his own swelling tears, Blaine shook his head and turned his face away, "You couldn't have waited one more year to start dating? There are other people out there. You only have one son, and it's like you just agreed to put him to death."

When Blaine spun on his heel and staggered out of the room, his knees weak and his hands shaky as he drew them out of his pockets, revealing the blood dripping from his palms, Burt snapped and called after him, "Blaine! No one's ever told me about any psychos at school! And if I told you there were other people besides Kurt, would you really believe me?"

Blaine didn't answer.

He slammed the door behind him.

It shuddered a few times, and Burt heard the soft trill of Kurt's voice on the other side of the door questioning Blaine, but then the voices faded away, as did the footsteps. Everything went quiet, as if Blaine had never even been there at all.

As if Kurt had never been there at all.

* * *

Kurt lay awake that night. He needed to sleep—he loved beauty sleep, the thrill of curling up into a ball, relaxing his muscles, dreaming sweetly of he and Blaine frolicking through meadows together, then rising well rested and with another day to spend with Blaine. But he wasn't sleepy at all. Not even a wink. Too many thoughts clouded his mind, making it impossible to so much as shut his eyes. He watched Blaine instead. Blaine, the man who hadn't touched him once that night, the man he'd heard shouting muffled incoherencies at his protesting dad, the man whom he realized was few cracks away from shattering, much to Kurt's distraught.

Shuffling under the stuffy blankets, Kurt stretched his feet out and nudged Blaine's muscular calf, careful not to make a sound to stir the sound man who very much needed the sleep—not for beauty, no, but for a chance to escape to a world possibly better than his reality. From the expression on Blaine's face, though, the intense lines grooved into the corners of his eyes and on his forehead, Kurt imagined that his dreams were even haunted by his past, and his former seeker, Karofsky.

Kurt smoothed a hand over Blaine's beautiful curls, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, "I love you, Blaine Anderson," he whispered in the hollow of his ear, and Blaine twitched with a low groan as he rolled onto his stomach, nearly crushing Kurt. Kurt wriggled again and tried to squeeze himself next to Blaine, but the best he managed was laying his cheek against Blaine's tense shoulder blade and draping an arm across the small of Blaine's back. Closing his eyes wearily, Kurt curled himself up and clenched Blaine's side in his small hand, clinging to Blaine as best he could.

Silence blanketed the moonlit room in an uncomfortable tone, except for the constant inhale and exhale of Blaine's light breathing. Also burrowed in the covers, Pavarotti suddenly poked his head out from under them and blinked at Kurt. He fluffed himself up and twittered. Kurt slightly lifted his head, "Shh… Pavarotti, go to sleep. You'll snooze through breakfast if you don't sleep now—" Kurt jerked up as Pavarotti ignored him and waddled toward the edge of the bed, then popped off of it. "Pavarotti!" He cried out in a hushed tone, then startled at a crunching sound from upstairs.

His tiny bird chirped and wobbled toward the stairs, slow motion as though he expected anything exciting to await his arrival to really get good. Kurt tossed the blankets aside, kicking his legs off the bed, "Pavarotti, come back here! You're being very naughty and don't be expecting any late night treats for a week, mister!"

Pavarotti hopped up the first stair, then wiggled and prepared himself for the next. Sighing, Kurt leapt off the bed and chased after his bird, scooping his cheeping form up just as he arrived at the third stair. "Pavarotti," Kurt censored, wagging his finger at his bird, "You were very bad. Night-night time means staying in bed—"

Abruptly, an explosive crash from upstairs jerked a high, almost silent scream out of Kurt, and he stumbled backwards. From the bed Blaine slightly shuffled, and he started to lift his head from the pillows, "Kurt?" came his hoarse voice, "Kurt, are you okay, sweetheart?"

Smart enough to determine that Blaine desperately needed his rest and that someone had probably stacked the dishes wrong and they tumbled out of their cabinet, Kurt waved him away, "Yes, I'm fine. I'll be back in a moment. Please, go back to sleep."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at him through the darkness, but he was too exhausted to keep his head up much longer. He sank again as Kurt placed his foot on the first step, shuffling Pavarotti onto his shoulder. Climbing the stairs, Kurt felt his way around in places that moonlight didn't caress, and he pawed for the door. "Okay," he offered to Pavarotti, "I'll get the kitchen tidied up and then you and I will go right back to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow. It's time for you to get groomed during your molt—it'll help your feathers grow. And I only have two more days to teach a dance routine for Booty Camp. We need our rest, don't we, sweet baby?"

Pavarotti chirped in reply, wriggling his feathers, and Kurt pushed his door open. As he peeked through the living room at the ordinary décor, he yawned sleepily and glanced down to adjust the wrinkles in his fuzzy, white, complimentary Vogue pajamas with a rose red _K _engraved in the cotton. Sweeping into the kitchen, Kurt nudged through the swinging door and everything suddenly went white as a sharp, piercing pain screeched through his cheek. He gasped and tumbled to the floor, whacking his shoulder hard enough to bruise him for weeks. Glancing around while he desperately strained to see more than two feet through the thick, submerging black swarming him from every angle, he reached up to his shoulder and cried out when he discovered that Pavarotti must have fallen off of him when he dropped. "Pavarotti!" he called, not caring if he caused too much noise, "Pavarotti, where are you?"

The kitchen light flipped on, and Kurt found his eyes directed toward a meaty pair of legs not two feet away from him. Flashing his eyes up to the face of the owner of those legs, Kurt breathlessly cried out at the sight of Karofsky towering over him, no expression except one of murderous loathing in his boiling eyes. From the entry way of the kitchen, where Pavarotti must have rolled when he fell, Pavarotti toppled rightly to his feet and shook himself out, then spotted Karofsky's heavy shoes. On instinct he bent forward to snatch one of Karofsky's shoelaces, a horrible habit of his to always untie Blaine's shoes in the mornings like a game, and he tugged on it with all his strength. Uncertain what to think of its double knot, Pavarotti hopelessly released it and chirped up at Karofsky, flapping his wings.

Karofsky's face remained stagnant, yet with a nudge of his foot against Pavarotti's chest he whispered, "Is it yours?"

Speechless in his shock, Kurt's throat tightened like he'd swallowed a sack of nails, but with a helpless shake of his head he managed a quiet squeak when Karofsky bent to collect Pavarotti in his palms, so capable of crushing him at any given time, "N-No," he pleaded, tears swelling in his eyes. In his anxiety, his natural language spilled from his lips like a low blubber, "_S'il vous plaît, mettez-le vers le bas. S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît._" He returned to English when he realized Karofsky couldn't understand him, "He's only a helpless bird, he hasn't done anything to you!"

"No," Karofsky shook his head, lowering into a squat beside of Kurt. Pavarotti chirped at Kurt, poking his head up over the tips of Karofsky's curled fingers. Eerily calm, Karofsky moved like a hologram, and Kurt felt everything in slow motion, the rising panic in his chest that his sweet baby was clutched in Karofsky's possession, and that if he lashed out Karofsky might crush Pavarotti then and there. Brushing his knuckles over Kurt's cheek, Karofsky cooed, "But he makes Blaine happy. I don't want that, now do I, Kurt? Look at you, little slut. Even in pajamas you dress like Blaine's sex doll. How many times did he shove his dick into your ass tonight? Ten? Twenty? I'm betting thirty, though. But I can't imagine how many times he's fucked this little mouth of yours. Look at your red lips. A whore's lips. I bet you like taking cock, don't you, Kurt? You like Blaine's cock against your tongue. Fucking whore."

Tossing Pavarotti aside, Karofsky suddenly twined his fingers around Kurt's throat, and in a moment of desperation Kurt screamed with sound breaking urgency, his voice high enough to shatter glass and just loud enough to alert the entire house. Karofsky didn't keep on him long, jerking his head up as Kurt shrieked, and within seconds the house roared into action. Stomping footsteps startled Kurt into stiffening his body and ducking his head in case he got trampled, and Karofsky ripped his body away when another man roared his name. Kurt thought someone hollered something at him, but he couldn't hear over the constant banging and shouting. As soon as his freedom was granted he lunged for his tiny bird and clutched him to his chest, curling into a ball.

From somewhere far away a door slammed, and the chaos was gone as soon as it came.

"Blaine!" he weakly managed the second he thought safety was bestowed upon him, but Blaine wasn't there.

* * *

Blaine tore down streets he didn't hardly recognize, and if he did he passed them by too quickly to stop and admire the landscapes he'd once visited before. Sparks of fire burning deep inside of him that needed to crawl out and wrap themselves around Karofsky motivated him to keep running, to keep going and end what Karofsky continued teasing with for months. His rage could hardly be fathomed, and in the middle of it all his whole being was zeroed in on that one figure not far ahead, keeping Blaine just far enough away where he couldn't lunge and take Karofsky to the ground. Noticing that Karofsky had plenty of chances to duck into the shadows and throw Blaine off his trail, he wondered why he didn't, like he wanted to take the beating when Blaine caught him. Or maybe he had somewhere he wanted Blaine to be, and he was the bait to lead him there then slaughter him. Either way, Blaine kept on him.

"Karofsky!" Blaine roared, his body reenergized by the idea that the never ceasing prodding after Kurt and the torturous waiting for Karofsky to do something could end now. "Karofsky, stop! Face this like a man!"

Without warning, Karofsky suddenly jerked left, and Blaine skidded after him, squeezing past a narrowing alley where secretive prostitutes got theirs in hidden nooks, each glancing up drunkenly to watch the spectacle of two young guys racing at neck breaking speeds, a cutthroat chase that Blaine had been waiting so long for. Now that it was here, Blaine planned to finally put a stop to Karofsky.

One way or the other.

"_Karofsky!_" Blaine seethed, the shadows of the night whipping across him with every foot he gained on Karofsky, who swerved another right. Blaine, who swiftly learned to expect anything in this pursuit, jerked right and his ankle twisted in a sloshing puddle. He briefly paused to shout in agony, but the lack of running footsteps as though Karofsky might have stopped to await him snapped him back into attention. Pushing with a limp to his foot into the pitch black alley Karofsky had vanished into, Blaine flicked his eyes around then grunted when something—someone—slammed him against a damp, brick wall, a gun pinpointed to his temple.

"This is exactly where I've always wanted you," a faceless voice hissed coolly in his ear, causing Blaine to wince and jerk, which provoked a brief laugh, and a hand groped up his thigh. Blaine tugged away, and the gun dug in further until he thought the sharp edge might have split his skin and drawn blood, but he was too cold to know the difference between his sweat and the oozing of blood. "I've missed you, Blaine. Have you missed me?"


	38. She Walks in Beauty

Author's note: I love writing author's notes because they always mean updates! :D This chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to split it in half so... the next part is coming! I still love all of you so very much and your reviews, favorites and alerts always make my day! JMarieAllenPoe helped so much with this chapter and more of her ideas are yet to come, so I'm giving a huge thank you to my unofficial beta again. Anyway, one of my anonymous reviewers asked me about my college mention in my last chapter, so just to clarify with that I'm planning on majoring in creative writing and secondary English with a minor in psychology (preferably counseling/social worker/foster children abuse) so, once again, any help with that would be appreciated!

P.S. Yes, Glee did indeed break my heart :( but I still love Klaine.

P.P.S. If any of you are wondering about the title of this chapter, which doesn't really match up with the contents of the chapter, it's a reference to both Kurt and Blaine. Take it the way you want to, it doesn't mean anything specific.

Disclaimer: I've totally run out of ways to say that I don't own Glee. Ryan Murphy = Glee owner

* * *

Blaine blew out from between his teeth like a freight train, his jaw clenched to keep his chattering—from the cold or his own fear, he wasn't sure—to a minimum. He would never let on to Karofsky that piss was about to drip down his leg he was so horrified that just moments ago could have been the last time he'd ever see Kurt. Fighting the urge to scream, Blaine glanced to the side as a low moan saturated the air, his blown up eyes observing the glow of a woman's skin. She arched against the brick wall behind her ass, her thighs spread and feet in the air for a grunting man jacking off inside of her. No concern at all for the man pinned against the wall with a gun to his head. They'd seen it all before. Whether he died or not mattered not one bat of a lash to either of them.

Karofsky stared at him for a moment, his face blank and utterly void of emotion, his head rolling from side to side as he examined Blaine. Blaine jerked away from the gun again—there were the right moments to dick off, and any man in his right mind to honor his life and realize that a beautiful boy waited at home for him would cower to the man arming the gun at any given moment—and Karofsky immediately cupped his hand over Blaine's cheek, his eyes fuzzy and unfocused. "Shh…" he whispered to Blaine, leaning in and nuzzling his mouth against Blaine's ear. The gun dug in deeper. "Don't be afraid. I won't kill you, Blaine. That'd be devastating for the both of us."

Blaine's mouth fell open, but he didn't make a sound. He didn't know what sound to make, or even if he should make one. Trembling from head to toe, Blaine winced at the hot pressure boiling in his lower stomach, and it wasn't the kind he felt around Kurt. Damn, did he need to piss. He suddenly regretted not rushing for the bathroom as Kurt changed into his pajamas in the bedroom to piss, at least before Kurt wandered in and went about his facial and brushing his teeth so thoroughly. Inhaling sharply through his mouth, Blaine writhed to free himself and shoved on Karofsky's shoulders. "Why do you have a freaking gun to my head, then?"

Karofsky lessened his grip on the gun, smoothing a finger over the gash on Blaine's forehead where black powder and blood had drizzled from the gun and the damage the gun had done to his skin, "Just so you know it's there. I bet your ears were too cold to have heard me. I asked you a question, Blaine. Did you hear me?" When Blaine bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes, Karofsky shook his head and brushed his thumbs over Blaine's ear lobes, "I said I missed you, Blaine. Have you missed me at all?"

Blaine punched his fist into Karofsky's stomach, and the gun instantly grinded into his temple, Karofsky's hand tightening over the side of his head. "You're fucking insane. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you drunk? How did you even find me? You got into my house."

Smirking teasingly, Karofsky swirled his finger over Blaine's chest and nudged his chin. He blew out heavily, and Blaine coughed at the burning sensation of cigarette smoke and whiskey. He closed his eyes as his eyes watered. "Call it what you like. I call it aggressively getting what I want—you. You're a silly man. You've always been naïve. I got into my car, waited for you and Fairy to come out… and I followed you home. Simple as that. I waited until that little, bug eyed slut and his baboon heart dad went to bed, and I snuck inside. I expected it to be you to walk up the stairs, but it was him."

"You lied!" Blaine smashed himself against the brick chunks, his hand raising threateningly. Karofsky didn't flinch, but he glanced over at the threatening hand. "We had a deal, Karofsky! You said you wouldn't hurt him! I fucked you for _nothing!_"

Karofsky shook his head, and he pressed his chest to Blaine's, his face close and his eyes poignant, "It wasn't for nothing, Blaine. I loved you. Do you know how long I watched you? How long I craved you? There are things you should know, Blaine."

Blaine flicked his eyes, scanning Karofsky's face for signs of deceptions, but all he detected was a drunken man teetering on the edge of losing everything. Biting his bottom lip, Blaine muttered, "Fine. Tell all."

Growing serious for a second, Karofsky burped, "I knew Kurt."

Blaine's brows furrowed, "What the hell do you mean, you knew Kurt? Karofsky, what are you talking about?"

"In France." Karofsky blurted, his body swaying to his own rhythm, "My mom—bitch she was—abandoned me when I was young, and my dad lost custody of me because he started overdosing drugs to get rid of his nervous breakdowns at the idea of being a single dad. I was sent to live with my uncle in France, and he beat me—_a lot. _He was also a fag. I was a little kid and I watched him come in with some whore wrapped around his waist, sucking his mouth, and sometimes they didn't even make it to the bed. They didn't know I was there, and they'd tumble to the floor and cock suck in front of me. I saw so many balls and cocks, and asses being stretched wide open by a big, old, whopping boner I thought that the first time I ever encountered a fag I'd take his nuts and chop them off because I knew where they'd be going and I didn't want to imagine that."

Pausing in his own story, Karofsky twitched his mouth and tilted his head to one side. He stayed like that for a long enough time that Blaine briefly thought he'd overdosed himself and passed out—or died—when Karofsky murmured, his eyes still vacantly watching something in the distance, "He died not long after he got me. It was snowy and he was drunk, and he lost control of his car. It smashed into some woman, and she died, too." He grew alert once more—or as alert as a drunk man could be—and he muttered to the side, "I stayed in France for a while after that, because I didn't have anywhere else to be. No one bothered looking for me. They didn't know I was there, and if they did they didn't care. I didn't know Kurt at the time of his death… we came into vicinities a few years afterward. It was late and I was just walking to walk, to escape my house, and I came across him and two other boys. Kurt was alone, but the other two boys were holding hands, snickering, kissing on each other, and it reminded me of my uncle. I lost control… I don't remember much of it. It was this _anger _inside of me, but I remember hearing a snap, and someone screamed. I don't remember who. Maybe it was me… or maybe it was Kurt. But then I turned away, and I remember seeing Kurt. He was so scared. He was young, innocent… He put one of his hands to his mouth, and the other was in his hair, and I remember hearing him cry. He looked at me, but he didn't look long. And I remember the devastation in his face. I hated that he was so beautiful. I wanted to punch him so badly—him and all his gayness. But, hell, I can remember the power that I felt when he looked at me that way. I wanted to push him on his knees and dominate him.

"So, later on I grabbed some fag at a gay bar and yanked him into a closet and forced myself on him. I only kissed him, yeah, but it was enough. When I heard him scream and felt him smack my shoulders I realized that mean words and bullying weren't enough. I wanted to make every gay in the world pay, and I wanted to give them cock. I wanted to show them how I felt, witnessing my faggot uncle fuck on the floor every night, and hear him gag around every cock he shoved in his huge ass mouth. I craved making them feel as disgusting as they were." Pausing once more, Karofsky shook his head and grimaced, "I left France. It turns out I killed the fag—the one that I punched, not kissed—so I did what all criminals do. I changed my name, got a few tweaks done on my face with my uncle's money, and returned to America. That's when I met you. No one ever suspected me for the murder. I was simply David Karofsky, and no one bothered with the Eli Carofsky I once was. He's gone now, Blaine."

Blaine's mouth fell ajar slightly, and the gun resting against his temple was forgotten. Suddenly everything he'd once worked at was gone, moot, and it meant nothing. Ripping away from Karofsky—Carofsky—whoever the hell he was!—Blaine slammed himself alongside another wall, and he shouted, "_What has been real? Was everything you did a lie!_"

Karofsky sorrowfully stepped toward him, but he held his hands up, drawing his teeth back, "Stay the hell away from me."

"Fine," Karofsky stopped, dropping his hands, but kept the gun firmly in his knuckles, "I should have expected trust issues. But, Blaine, what I felt—feel—for you… is so real. When I met you, I thought I'd never seen anything more beautiful. I watched you for a long time. I saw you with Finn and Puck—they were your best friends, weren't they? You loved them."

Blaine didn't reply, so Karofsky shrugged and whispered, "I didn't. I wanted you so badly, Blaine. Seeing your face every day… was my life. It was what made me realize I could have a second chance. I didn't want to destroy you. I wanted you to suffer, yes. It was always so obvious that you were gay. You just needed me to realize what you wanted. But I wanted to give you time to love me. If I came out right away and claimed you, you would have hated me, Blaine. So… I gave you everything for your temporary happiness, but love was missing from your life, and it was evident it made you feel incomplete. You were never completely happy, Blaine. I was always missing, which kept you from your true happiness. I joined the football team for you, and I manipulated you into joining. You were so easily enticed, Blaine. You would have believed anything I said, and you fell right into the palm of my hand. I gave you popularity, girls, friends… I was the reason for all of that. You never realized it was me, though—doing all of that for you. You thought you were the one working the crowd. It was me, Blaine. And you were slowly becoming mine, because somewhere in your heart you knew. Didn't you? You knew I wanted you so badly, and you would have fallen for me. You would have finally seen my sacrifices and how it tortured me to watch you with those girls and Finn and Puck, and you would have been delighted that your self-esteem was so flattered that I wanted you with so much passion I sat back and waited for you to come for me, just to make you happy. With a few more months I would have had you. I could have convinced you to come anywhere with me and do anything with me, and I would have kept you to myself. I would have made you happy."

Blaine blinked at him, his entire body shuddering, "What, then? Why did you stop?"

"That brat showed up." Karofsky said flatly, "And, yes, he's sweet and beautiful and charming and even _I_ want to fuck him. Hell, what I wouldn't pay to push my cock down his little throat and up his boy pussy. I bet he's gorgeous in bed, Blaine. Isn't he? I bet he's a crier. But… he was the thing that took you away from me."

Blaine remained perfectly silent as Karofsky fished in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked on Blaine, but then he pulled out what looked like a recorder. He clicked a button on it, and tossed it toward Blaine. Blaine caught it midair. "I admit," Karofsky whispered this last, "I was unfair. I broke my word to you. I didn't give you anything to hold against me when we fucked. I didn't want things to be like this, Blaine. I thought you'd be mine without the bargaining or the crying during sex. But I want you enough to take you, anyway, to love you enough for the two of us." He finally addressed the recorder, nodding at it, "I just recorded our conversation. You can turn that in to the police, but, Blaine, if you do and I go to jail… I want you to know that I'll get out one day. And when I do, I'll head straight to France and slit Kurt's throat. Nobody would be stopping me because you'd be here, supporting his dreams and giving him his freedom. That's yours to keep, though, Blaine. You have that over me. It's a fair fight now. Do exactly as I say when I say it, and I'll let Kurt live. I'm making a deal with you."

The urge to piss washed away, replaced by a dreadful need for Karofsky to die. Once and for all. Drawing his lips back over his teeth, Blaine snarled, "So, if I don't do what you say, you'll kill him and that'll be that?"

Karofsky nodded, so Blaine lifted the recording device to his ear and clicked a button. _"It turns out I killed the fag—the one I…"_ He clicked it back off, stuffing it in his pocket. Raising his eyes to Karofsky, Blaine pursed his lips together and studied the grooves of his face, the dips and curves of his mouth and nose, the shaved head. What had he looked like before the plastic surgery? What had he been like? Was he the same person he once was? What else was he keeping from Blaine? Parting his lips and inhaling the brisk air, Blaine leaned forward, his voice flat and cut to the point, "I want you to die, Karofsky." He muttered without much affair, his eyes shimmering with overflowing tears. "I hate you and everything you do. I hate the man who fucked the woman who gave birth to you. I hate everyone who made you this way. I hate that you got so fucked up that this is where you're at now. But…" Smiling bitter sweetly, Blaine shook his head and wiped his eyes as a tear rolled down to his jaw, "Part of me wants you to live, you know? Because I know with every day you suffer, just because you're you. And because you don't have me. And because Kurt's not dead. You suffer…" Mashing his lips together, Blaine blew out heavily, "and that makes me happy, Karofsky. Knowing that you're miserable as hell. I hate you… more than I've ever hated anyone. If you kill Kurt… you won't know what the hell hit you until you hear that snap that boy you killed heard just as he died. But I want you to know that you won't ever hurt Kurt. You will never harm him. I'll do _anything_ to keep him safe."

"Fair enough," Karofsky admitted easily but reluctantly, then nodded his head, "You can start by kissing me. I've missed your kisses."

Blaine bitterly squeezed his eyes shut, another tear dripping from his cheekbone, and he scooted towards Karofsky, though he hesitated, "I want you to know something. You can fake it, but you'll never be Kurt. I'm in love with him, and not with you."

Not giving Karofsky a chance to reply, yet inwardly acknowledging that a statement like that would eventually drive Karofsky to insanity, Blaine grasped his face too firmly and crushed his mouth over his, loving the bruising pain and the blood he tasted as one of his teeth nicked his top lip. Because with feeling pain during the kiss, it didn't actually feel like a kiss.

It was just pain, something he never felt with Kurt.

* * *

Kurt panted on the floor, his body sore and cramping from his curled up position around Pavarotti. Shuddering from his fingertips to his toes, Kurt blinked his blurry eyes and carefully lifted his throbbing head, one pajama sleeve falling off his shoulder. He glanced around his living room, once so familiar to him and now a strange room he'd never visited before. His very home had been violated, and Blaine had been taken from him. Blood splattered the floor and he wasn't sure if it was his or someone else's, and one of the windows had been punched out, glass littering the couch and floor. The curtain on that side was torn in spots, and one of the throw pillows flopped over on its side was trashed with a soggy, brown footprint of a giant boot.

Fluttering his lashes again, Kurt glanced down at Pavarotti's tiny face, the shock of everything still seeping into him. Suddenly, another crashing sound alerted him into jerking his head up toward his dad, dressed in a meek tee shirt, his boxers and a loose robe. It must not have been long since the attack, then. Burt rushed into the room carrying a flashlight, and he zoomed it on Kurt, "_What the hell happened!_" he shouted, his face fiery as he waved the light around. "Kurt, where's Blaine? You're bleeding!"

Numbly reaching up to his cheek and touching the damp cut engraved in his cheekbone, Kurt turned toward the door and blinked at it, his blond lashes lowering and lifting. Speechless, Kurt swung his eyes in every direction once more, but he still couldn't understand what had happened. Had Karofsky been there or not? Was it all a nightmare? Had he slept walk? Was Blaine still sleeping downstairs? Clumsily he wriggled to his feet, and Burt rushed forward to catch him when he swayed. Gasping at the sharp jabbing in his head, Kurt touched his temple, "Oh, Dad… Was it a dream? Blaine. Where's Blaine?"

Burt steadied him and lifted him by the elbows, plopping him onto the couch that hadn't been damaged. "Stay there," he commanded, "I'm calling the police. Someone broke in, Kurt. Blaine chased him out."

"So, it was Karofsky," Kurt told himself, setting Pavarotti on his shoulder, and Burt briefly glanced over his shoulder with furrowed brows as he reached for the phone.

"Huh?" he muttered, "Kurt, lay down. I think you got hit. I'll take you to the hospital in a minute. We need someone to find Blaine. He couldn't have gotten far. Don't worry, honey."

So, was he still dreaming? He laid his palm flat on his thigh and with two fingers pinched the center of it, but when he lifted his eyes his dad was still clutching the phone, pacing back and forth and tapping his foot. "Find Blaine…" he whispered to himself, and he was about to close his palm when he noticed something in the center of it, a scratchy _D_ fading away.

Suddenly everything jolted back to him.

Inhaling sharply as he recalled spotting Karofsky's face in the doorway, and how he'd pleaded with him to return his bird, then the screaming and door slam, Kurt hopped to his feet, startling his dad. "Karofsky has Blaine!" he cried out, and his dad waved him down.

"_Kurt,_" he hissed and covered the phone speaker with his palm, "Kurt, calm down. Your head might be injured."

"No!" he darted away from the couch, scurrying to the door and slipping on the first available pair of shoes, Jimmy Choo moccasins, and he reached onto the coat rack for his black, hooded shawl.

Burt snapped the phone back onto its cradle and he threw his hands apart, "Kurt, stop! You're not going out there in this weather with a head injury! What are you going to do, drive all over town and search for Blaine yourself? You're not going into town alone. At least let me drive you—"

"_Dad!_" Kurt jerked away when Burt reached for his shawl, his fingers tightening on the fabric, "Please, I'm not a child anymore! Blaine is in danger—I know he is! It was Karofsky who broke in—"

"_I don't give a damn who it was!_" Burt shuffled him back into the living room, swinging the door the remainder of the way shut, clearly left open from when Blaine chased Karofsky out. "You're not going out there, Kurt! You and I are going to the hospital. The police will find Blaine. _Sit down!_"

Kurt ignored his demands, his mind set as he wriggled the shawl over his shoulders and it settled around his ribs, "You wouldn't want to be told no if it was Elizabeth in danger!" he reminded Burt, and before his dad could catch him, Kurt pushed through the door and darted into the snow.

Burt's hoarse voice from snoozing hollered through the muggy air after him, but luckily Burt knew better than to chase him. Kurt stumbled through the mushy, melting snow as March spring and warmth caressed it into thawing into a slushing, watery mess that splashed his fine silk pajamas and ruined the thin covering of his shawl to tatters.

Clumsily he skidded towards his car, tossing open the door right when Burt shouted at him to get back inside the house. For once defying his father and everything he'd grown up by—respecting anyone older than him, listening to everything his guardians told him, and never daring to venture out on his own in a dangerous situation—Kurt climbed into the driver seat. He shut the door behind himself and for a second froze, not entirely sure what to do. Lima wasn't a large town, a quiet, peaceful nook off the corner of Westerville, a much nicer, richer and grander city for bustling and city jobs. But, still, Kurt recognized the terrors of traveling into West Lima alone, a place close to Westerville where he remembered hearing about a gay bar named Scandals. He normally stayed in the eastern areas of Lima, and he wondered where he might have to go to find Blaine—if he'd be far from home, if he'd see things he never thought he would.

If he almost might die tonight.

After a moment of hesitation, Kurt twisted his key and the car purred to life, the lights flashing on. Peeling Pavarotti from his shoulder and nesting him into the cup holder to his right, he checked over his shoulders both ways for any signs of Blaine or Karofsky, but spotted none. Only crystal snow patching the ground like bits of stuffing, and a black drive of roadway with lamps shining their pools of light down on it. He touched his fingertips to his bottom lip, staring to his left as he eyeballed for any sign of human footprints or snow recently plowed through. From the cup holder Pavarotti twittered and puffed himself up, so Kurt glanced down at him and shushed him gently. "Everything's alright, Pavarotti. We'll get your daddy back."

He nudged the car into reverse and rolled out of the driveway, choosing to turn left since going right seemed of little worth, as he'd spotted nothing to hint that _anyone _had passed through. Spinning the wheel into place, Kurt crept the car forward and scanned the snow for footprints, yet came across nothing. Nipping his bottom lip, he focused on the road ahead of him and the slick patches of ice which hadn't quite melted yet.

_What torture is he putting you through?_ Kurt mused to himself, unable to even speak aloud the horror which he imagined Karofsky was relentlessly lashing onto Blaine. Blinking his eyes wearily, Kurt flicked his gaze briefly to the right as he came across an intersection, when something caught his eye, a shine glinting in the soppy grass. Without a moment of reluctance, Kurt pushed his car door open and unbuckled himself, slipping out the door. He rushed around the car, ignoring his flopping hair whipping across his face, and he threw himself down in the choppy grass, a pair of cleats having ripped up some of the threads of green.

Running his fingers over the recently shredded dirt, a pair of footsteps dug into the ground while another pair stopped, facing another direction, Kurt paused at the shining object wedged into the grass where the pair of footsteps diverted away from the first. He yanked it from the mud and startled at a bent, partially bloodied knife. So shocked was he that at first he dropped the knife, and Kurt pressed his hand to his heart and his fingers to his lips, his eyes trained on that dripping knife, the tip of it a ruby red, so fresh he could smell the rusty tang of blood.

"Blaine," he whispered without a doubt, his eyes swelling with overwhelming tears. _He must have tried to run and defended himself… but he couldn't. _Lifting his eyes again, Kurt traced the slightly larger footsteps through the yards and into the road that poured into the West Lima community.

There was only one place in West Lima where two gay boys could have gone, where Karofsky would have dragged Blaine by tooth and nail, and Kurt had the intent of being there when they arrived.

Scooping up the knife after wiping the foul blood on the grass as best he could, Kurt carefully carried it back to the car and pushed it under his floor mat, at the ready for anything.

Even Karofsky, the one man set on ending him by the time he returned to France.

* * *

"Here, hold this," Karofsky shoved a card into Blaine's palms, and Blaine winced as he snatched it and glanced at the laminated piece of plastic. Keeping his palm on Blaine's back, Karofsky dug in his pocket for a container, and he popped it open and spilled a handful of sky blue pills into his palm. He snatched Blaine's free palm and dropped the pills into the center of it, then closed his knuckles tightly around them. "Take those. I have a buddy inside who will fix you up with Vodka to give them a little kick."

Blaine squinted at the pills in the dim lighting between the alley ways, trying to read and walk at the same time as Karofsky pushed him along. "What are they?" he muttered artlessly, having never been one to try drugs before.

"Viagra," Karofsky shoved him into a lighted parking lot, almost vacant in comparison to the shouting and hooting spilling from the doorways of a building only a few feet away. Flicking his eyes up to the flashing sign on the roof, Blaine snapped his face towards Karofsky accusingly.

"Scandals," he growled, "A gay bar? Karofsky, what the hell are we doing here?"

Karofsky pushed him forward, nearly mauling down a drunken, cross dressing couple when they swung out of the doors, teetering this way and that and giggling like a couple of banshees. Music jumped through the open doors while they swayed, and Karofsky caught one before it closed. Shoving Blaine inside, Karofsky shouted above the constant sighing and moaning of couples writhing in the corners, on the floor, and Blaine had to watch his step to avoid nearly tripping on a passed out, transgendered man's head with vomit dripping from his mouth and onto his cheek. "I have shit for you to do here. Just flash that card and we'll get in. Don't make a scene, newbie. I have a reputation here. I'm the bear cub of this club."

Blaine returned his gaze to the card, a curly haired man's face captured in a tiny box with the name _Chazz Dolaldswoth_ printed beside of it. "Karofsky," Blaine snapped, "this doesn't even look like me. This guy is Hawaiian."

Karofsky didn't bother replying. Thrusting them past a man with his head buried in his date's neck, Karofsky forced them up to a bored bouncer, his jaw clicking and twisting with every chew of his hardened gum. His blank eyes greeted them without much affair, and he cocked his brows, "I.D.?"

By force, Blaine handed over his false I.D., and the man briefly checked it before slipping it back. "Enjoy," he grumbled, returning his attention to his phone.

Blaine glanced at Karofsky again, and Karofsky slipped his hand through Blaine's arm so he didn't try to bolt and lose himself in the synced up crowd, away from Karofsky's vision, "You didn't give an I.D."

Karofsky twitched a shoulder, lifting on his toes and narrowing his eyes on something in the distance, "I've been here. I first came when I met you. I wanted you so desperately I bought whores who each had one of your traits, and I fucked them whenever I felt like I needed you." His eyes focused on Blaine for a moment, a deep shame swallowing them up, "You don't know the kind of suffering I went through for you."

"I don't want your sob story," Blaine barked, jerking his head away and noticing a lone couple by the DJ booth, a dark pile of hair swung over a young girl's face as she stared down at the fainted, blond girl in her lap. The dark haired girl was robed in a heavy jacket, while the blond sported a stitched up, cherry red skirt and matching vest. Unlike any of the other couples, this one appeared far from groping right then and there without the humility to realize that others passed their eyes over each and every thing they did. Oddly captivated by the girls he swore he felt like he knew, Blaine zeroed in on them and weaved his eyes through the moving bodies, the swinging hips, the grinding asses to note the blond girl's swollen stomach, at least three or four months in.

Suddenly, the dark haired girl lifted her head, and Blaine jerked to full attention as he abruptly shouted Santana's name without even realizing he did. Tearing away from Karofsky, Blaine drove through the squirming bodies without care while many glowered at him and snorted in their anger that he'd destroyed their funk. Not giving a damn if he'd lost Karofsky or not, Blaine jostled a man dressed in nothing more than a rubber skirt and tube top to cover his hairy, muscular legs and bulging belly aside, and he threw himself down in front of Santana. Immediately her unsure eyes widened, but after a mere moment of uncertainty she tossed her arms around him. "Santana!" he blurted, squeezing her back just as firmly, "Santana, what the hell are you doing here?"

She shook her head, nodding over his shoulder, "He took us here. He said he had you and Kurt, a-and I believed him. I thought he'd hurt you, Blaine."

Blaine swung around to check for Karofsky, then lowered his voice to a whisper, "Why didn't you get out, Santana? You need to leave. Get the hell out of here."

"I can't," she shifted Brittany around, and Brittany moaned lowly and wrenched her face into Santana's jacket, seeking silence and darkness. "He drugged Brittany, then hit her. I'm afraid to move her, Blaine. What the hell does he want from us?"

"I want the bastard dead," muttered a sharp voice from behind them, and Blaine gritted his teeth when a harsh hand snatched his shoulder and yanked him to his feet. Karofsky shoved Blaine behind him, "If you won't kill the thing, then I will."

Santana narrowed her eyes cynically, cocking her head, "Who the hell do you think you are, baby walrus? What makes you think you can do anything to us?"

Karofsky yanked a gun from his pocket, jabbing it in the direction of Brittany's stomach. Santana immediately stiffened, slipping her arms over Brittany's torso. "Santana…" he tsked, shaking his head with a smirk, "You're always at the ready with an insult, aren't you? You resent me, don't you? All of the Slushies… the name calling… It gets to you. You're really just an insecure whore who has no family except your cheating slut of a girlfriend and a bastard who isn't even yours. I don't think you realize that I have a gun now, and I don't mind killing all three of you. You, the other slut, and that bastard bloating up her womb like a balloon that's going to—" Karofsky clapped his hands together, the gun hanging between his fingers clicking against his palm as he did so, and he smiled when she jumped, "—_pop_ one day. And after all the blood and pus and vagina come leaks out, there will be my little bastard, all perky and lively, and it's going to haunt you forever, because it'll have my face and not yours."

Santana peeled her lips back, her body relaxing as he stored the gun away in his pocket again, "Have you gone _completely _insane, Karofsky?"

Ignoring that last, Karofsky rubbed the backs of his fingers against Blaine's cheek, and he whistled at the thing he'd been ogling a moment ago. In seconds, another man—a dark headed man with a pair of the finest golden eyes—skirted through the crowd, holding out a bottle of clear liquid, bubbling and fizzing at the top. It swished in the bottle as the stone faced man handed it over, and Karofsky ducked in for a swift kiss to his lips. Peeling away, Karofsky smirked at the glowering pile of people he'd herded in, "One of my whores."

"He looks like Blaine," Santana observed, but Karofsky didn't bother agreeing with her. Instead he spun toward Blaine, wrapping his arms around his waist and drawing him near.

"Did you take the pills?" Karofsky muttered, leaning in to press his lips to the hollow of Blaine's throat. His hand brushed against Blaine's recoiling stomach, drifting down to his crotch and cupping his heavy weights. With furrowed brows, Karofsky withdrew, "You didn't take them." He acknowledged.

"No," Blaine snarled, spitting in his face. "Not until you let me get Santana and Brittany out of this mess. Let me do that."

Karofsky's hands tightened, his cheekbones puffing out as he sucked his cheeks in, "Take them, Blaine," he commanded, seizing Blaine's wrist. "Take them now. Or else your pretty, little boyfriend… won't be so beautiful once I finish with him."

"Fuck you," Blaine smacked his hand to his mouth, gulping the pills in one shot. Quivering as they sank down his throat, Blaine tore the vodka bottle from Karofsky's hands and he threw his head back as he shoved the neck of it between his teeth. The fiery alcohol burned his virgin mouth to the harsh, cutting edge of real liquor, not the wine he drank with Kurt on special occasions. Sucking it down without breaking for breaths, Blaine yanked the half emptied bottle away when he couldn't take anymore and slapped it against Karofsky's chest.

Karofsky dropped the glass to the floor, and it shattered at his heels, cutting his ankles, as he helplessly scooped Blaine against him, "Damn, you turn me on. You hold your liquor."

Blaine's stomach gurgled and hissed at the alcohol jolting the pills, and he groaned at the sharp prickles in his abdomen. His groin engorged at the pills and the damage they'd done to him, his cock thickening much to his abasement. He turned slightly from Santana, unable to face the humility of his bulging cock pressing against his crotch. Karofsky followed his movements, entranced by his hard-on, and he impulsively reached out to stroke the embalmed weights.

Looping his hold around Blaine's hips once more, Karofsky lowered to his knees in front of Blaine. He slid his hands down to Blaine's thighs, his teeth biting Blaine's zipper and tugging it open. With one hand he slid his fingers in Blaine's pants, and he fished around while with the other he slapped Blaine's ass firmly. "Swivel your hips. I want you to dance for me." He commanded, and from behind him Santana gasped in surprise.

Unable to do any differently, Blaine stiffly writhed his hips and closed his eyes as he felt Karofsky tug his hot and dripping cock from his briefs. Muggy air thick with sweat and moaning blanketed his cock, and it was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears as a moist mouth wrapped around his length, Karofsky's tongue working him over.

He started pondering when he'd given up everything he knew to Karofsky, and suddenly a blurry memory flashed in his mind of freshmen year, of strolling into his homeroom with Finn on his heels. They'd been laughing about something, a trifle thing that they, as best friends, found so amusing, and then there'd been Karofsky. Blaine recalled the feeling of warmth he'd gotten when Karofsky had smiled at them, waving them over, but while Finn had stolen a seat near the back with Puck and Quinn just to save one for himself and Blaine before they got eaten up, Blaine headed over to Karofsky, just in wondering of what he wanted and who he might be.

_"Hey," _Karofsky had grinned, all smiles and polite introductions, _"You're Blaine Anderson."_

Blaine had smiled back and swiftly glanced over his shoulder at Finn, who had tossed his hands apart and mouthed if Blaine knew the new face and to get his ass over in the seat next to Finn, _"Yeah. I've never seen you around."_

Karofsky's smile had widened, and he blinked innocuously up at Blaine, _"I'm David Karofsky. It's nice to finally meet you, Blaine."_

* * *

Clipping his door shut, Kurt perched Pavarotti on his shoulder and reached for his hood, flipping it up over his hair. He strolled through the quiet parking lot of the run down building, less than taken care of and ostracized as a weary place for whores to legally get their pleasures in public. He silently strode over the broken black top, grayed and dusted from years of lacking upkeep. Careful to step over rough patches that he might break a heel on, Kurt reached for the door handle reluctantly, assuming that dried come and spit festered on it, due to the reputation of the gay bar, when it popped open and a single man stumbled out. Drunk enough to make a fool of himself yet not quite past tipsy, the man turned his head to Kurt and flicked his eyes down to his butt, and he whistled lowly, shimmying his body, "Whoa, baby! You're breaking my heart!"

Kurt flushed, unsure whether to reply or not, but, completely speechless, he missed his chance to say a thing as the man staggered away. Startled and uncertain, he refocused on the room inside and blinked at the flashing lights, several men swaying in the doorway as they awaited their ticket to get inside. He slipped in and wiggled between a group of men who immediately jerked their attentions to him, and watched him approach the man at the desk. Pursing his lips, Kurt murmured unsurely, "_Excusez-moi,_ I must get inside for a moment."

The man flicked his eyes up, and although they slightly widened at Kurt's undeniable beauty, he stuttered to remain professional, "You need to leave. Twenty one and up in here."

"You don't understand," Kurt shook his head, pulling his hood down, "I have to find my boyfriend. I'll only need a minute, please."

"Twenty one and up," the man repeated, biting every word. "Come on, kid, I have a business to run."

"No!" Kurt stamped his foot, his irritation stirring, "Please, he's in danger! A man brought him here—a tall man, with dark hair. He brought my boyfriend here. He has curly hair and golden eyes, and his skin is dark. Tell me if you've seen him."

"Kid, I see a hundred people here a night. You're lucky if I remember the man I just let in—"

"Please!" Kurt cried out, and his eyes leaked tears, "I'll only need a moment. He's in danger, you don't understand." When the man opened his mouth to refuse and gestured to the security guard camouflaged to the wall, Kurt leaned forward and pleaded, "You can't take me out of here! I'm Kurt Hummel!"

The security guard immediately backed off, and nearly every grinding body nearby froze. It was the first time Kurt had ever used his celebrity status to get his way—not to house himself in a multi-million dollar hotel during his stay in Ohio, or to buy out an entire Chanel store and charge it to his company, or even to get out of schoolwork and, for the year he was here, get himself into a top academy school like Dalton. The man behind the desk opened his mouth again, then shut it, then opened it again, and slowly he nodded. "Fine. Do you want an escort?"

Kurt flicked his eyes around the chaotic room, and he realized it would take a good half an hour to search the building himself, writhe through the bodies, when he wasn't even a hundred percent sure that Blaine was here. "I need someone to look for my boyfriend," he whispered, "Please. I'll pay money if you'll help me. A man took him here against his will. Are there any other rooms?"

"Just the bedrooms," the man jerked his head toward a flight of stairs tucked away in the corner, "I'll radio my security guards and tell them to keep an eye out. Do you want someone to call the police? Is there a name we can go by?"

Kurt shook his head, "No. There's nothing else you can do." Slipping away from the counter, Kurt vanished into the crowd with the awestruck eyes of onlookers on his heels. He shuffled into the mess of people, his nose scrunching against the tangy, sour scent of vomit, beer, sweat, sex and rubber vibrators plunging in and out of asses bubbling with fresh come and saliva. Blinded by the flashing lights blinking at him unceasingly, Kurt pulled his hood farther over his face and flicked his eyes around the room to no feat.

Kurt immediately bumped into a larger man's back—a man shouting at a stripper working the poles on the stage and tossing money at his long-legged, hairy form—so Kurt pulled back and helplessly stumbled. Another man from behind him snatched him up, and the rescuer gave a hoot at his presence, "Whoa, beautiful baby! Who are you with tonight?"

Kurt tugged out of his hands and pushed his staggering form away, desperate for some fresh air—oh, why was everything so clamped in around here? Why were there so many sticky, stumbling bodies? Why were the lights so bright and the music so loud? Clapping his hands over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut, Kurt darted toward what he hoped might be an escape. He wiggled through every body he encountered and only hoped each of them was decently covered, his breath heaving and his entire body chilled. "Blaine," he whispered soto voce, regretting his decision to come here. Perhaps Blaine wasn't here at all. It might have been crowded but he knew Blaine. He would have spotted him by now.

What if Karofsky had taken Blaine somewhere else? A crack house or an abandoned apartment? Or his own home, which Kurt hadn't a clue where that might be. "Blaine, _Blaine—_"

"_Kurt!_" A pair of hands clamped onto his arms and nearly lifted him off the floor, and an automatic shriek tore from his throat before a hand clapped against his mouth. "Quiet! You have to get out of here. Go."

Kurt's eyes popped open, and he blinked at Santana's merciless face, her head switching over her shoulder every few seconds to check for something. Finally, she turned back to Kurt and gave him a shake, "Kurt, _get out._ Go find help. Now."

Kurt, startled at her appearance, opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His throat clinched up, though he finally managed, "Help? What help? Where is Blaine? Why are you here?"

Santana looked over her shoulder again; her jaw twitched and her face, catching the light, appeared unusually pale, "Kurt, go," she said without looking at him, "You can't be here."

Peeking over her shoulder, Kurt fumbled when she suddenly released him, her stiff body disappearing through a herd of drunk men stumbling through the bar. His heart pounded and he considered that he might be dreaming again, that maybe he had hurt his head and fell asleep on the couch while his dad phoned the police about Blaine's disappearance. This couldn't be real, though. Things like this just didn't happen to him. As though in a dream, Kurt strode through the crowd and popped out on the other side, to a much quieter area of the bar, but still just as flashy. He encountered Brittany and Santana first, Santana bowing over Brittany with misty eyes as Brittany moaned, her shirt drawn up over a startlingly swollen and purple tinted stomach.

His eyes drifted to the left at the vague blurs of movement in the corner of his eye, and at first he couldn't connect the dots. It was just another couple pressed to the wall, a man knelt at another man's groin, his head bobbing up and down rhythmically around the other man's open zipper. He drifted his gaze back up to the man's face who was receiving the blow job, and underneath the chaotic, sparking lights and the insistent pounding in his head, he determined the man to be young, tears leaking down his face with every suckle to his bulging, engorged cock.

Unaware of stepping forward until he tripped on an elevated platform where the sobbing man was pinned to a wall, his hand in his pocket, clutching something like a lifeline, Kurt zoned in on the crying man's face—a beautiful face, with the puffy eyes and the reddened lips. "Blaine," he felt the name fall off his lips, his hearing drifting in and out, his entire being wrapped around that one weeping man.

The man between the beautiful man's thighs popped his head off the embalmed cock, whipping around to face Kurt with swollen lips. His eyes flew wide, then his teeth gnashed together. "Karofsky," Kurt whispered more to himself than anyone else. Flicking his eyes up to Blaine's strawberry face, smothered in his own horrified tears, and Karofsky's brutal one, Kurt shook his head and touched his own, pale lips, "What is this? Blaine…"

Blaine peeled open his eyes, and he moved his jaw with silent words as he stared at a stunned Kurt. "Go," he finally managed, the tears overwhelming his voice, "Kurt, go! Go home. I'll be there soon. Give me time—"

"Is that what this is? Something you're just trying to get through so you can go home and hump your little prude of a boyfriend who probably spits instead of swallowing like your come is something nasty? You're not pleasured, Blaine? Well, neither am I. Not now—since he interrupted." Karofsky, still on the floor, snapped, slowly rising to his feet and patting Blaine's thigh, "Zip up, Blaine. Your little, brat boyfriend turned me off."

Blaine jerked his face towards Karofsky, "Karofsky, stop! Let Kurt go home!" Whipping around, Blaine gestured harshly at Kurt then pointed to the nearest door, his golden eyes as dark as charcoal with white sparks in the irises, "Kurt, _get out!_ I don't want you here!"

"No, stay!" Karofsky screamed, jabbing a finger at Kurt. Kurt's lips parted in surprise, and he took a step back. "Why don't you just get in the way again? You know, Kurt, you've always annoyed _the fuck _out of me. Ever since you arrived at McKinley, you've done nothing but spread your faggot germs all over the place and I'm sick of it. I wasn't happy until I met Blaine. He was the best thing that's ever happened to me—I almost made him love me. He would have, if _you_ hadn't shown up. When you came, I didn't think you were a threat. You turned me on, but I never would have imagined that your squeaky voice and big, bug eyes and that crazy fool crepe paper nonsense you prance around the school with would _ever_ harm me. At best, I thought you, Blaine and I could have a threesome. I wanted you so badly, Kurt. And then I realized all you wanted was… _him_… and he actually went with you. He was everything to me. You took what was mine."

In a haze of movement, Karofsky ripped something from his jeans and Kurt thought he might have heard Santana scream, but Kurt couldn't remember much except for a brick wall smacking into him, pinning him down as a resounding crack snapped through the air. A raw shout ripped through the building, and then there was a dropping sound. Through the quieting air while the whores and drag-queens roped around them wonderingly, clearly cautious but curious, Kurt shot his gaze out to where Karofsky stood with his hand over his mouth, a gun loosely clasped in his fingers and an absolutely stunned expression on his face. He immediately pressed his hands to his body, searching for blood, a wound, a rip in his pajamas. But he was okay. His eyes drifted down his body, and he threw his hands over his cheeks at the sight of Blaine curled on the floor, his hands at his bloody ankle as he groaned into his wrists.

"Blaine!" he dropped to the floor, unsure of where to touch or what to hold, so he pressed a hand to Blaine's cheekbone. "Blaine—Blaine, where do you hurt? Santana!"

Blaine tore his shaking hands off his ankle suddenly, and with a grunt he threw his weight into shoving Karofsky—who had been approaching them—away. He teetered over the elevated floor, falling off the edge and into a glass table which shattered under his weight. By then, security guards swarmed from each side, but Kurt ignored them as he glanced at Blaine's wound, a burnt skim on his leg, possibly two layers of skin off. Santana skidded to place beside Kurt and plopped onto her knees, her eyes wide with worry.

"Damn," she muttered, "The bullet didn't go in. It needs pressure, though." Searching herself for anything to cover the wound, she stopped when Kurt placed a hand on her arm and started wriggling out of his cloak. Pavarotti briefly hopped from his shoulder and into his lap so he didn't get knocked off, and he waddled over to Blaine. With a nudge to Blaine's hand, Pavarotti twittered and his tail feathers fluttered.

After the first wave of shock passed him, Blaine weakly lifted his head from the floor as Kurt bowed over his ankle and firmly pressed the soft cloth there. "Kurt," he breathed between his teeth, "You shouldn't have come here. You were safe at home. I would have—" his jaw snapped shut and he moaned, gurgling and spitting a clear liquid with grainy dust splattered through the stickiness, "—would have come back to you."

Kurt shook his head, his eyes filling, "I couldn't have done that, Blaine. You can never ask that of me—to stay away from you when you're hurt. What has he done to you, Blaine?" A wobbly tear slid from his bright eyes and he leaned over Blaine, brushing his lips against his as Santana reached to tuck his enflamed sex back into his pants and zip him up.

Lazily working his lips on Kurt's as his own eyes flooded with tears, Blaine suddenly ripped away at the burning sensation in his throat, his stomach swollen two times too large for his own body, and without warning he turned his head away from Kurt. He burped and his throat gagged and churned, a syrupy bile leaking from his mouth. He heard Kurt make an anxious sound, his hands coming to his back and rubbing gently, "Blaine," Kurt cried, cracking under the overwhelming despair of losing Blaine in case Karofsky poisoned him or something equally awful, "Blaine!"

"Kurt," Santana muttered sensibly, "It's okay. Karofsky gave him Viagra and vodka and he's rejecting it. He'll be fine—"

"Kurt!" Someone in the distance shouted, and from somewhere to their left a woman screamed as Karofsky nearly plowed her over, avoiding the flashing media cameras. "Kurt, sweetheart! Tell us what happened! Was it a run-in with BDSM?"

Kurt's head jerked up and Blaine twisted around when he finished throwing up, and his eyes flew wide at the sight of at least ten cameras zooming in on them, and more to come. "No!" he whipped his face away to avoid the mass of camera shots, while Blaine boosted himself up and made a harsh noise of pain, his hands flying to his sharply contorting stomach.

"Shit," he growled without much care, climbing to his knees and then rising to his feet. He bent to swing Kurt up to his feet, and Santana popped to hers and placed her hands at his hips in case he swayed or had to empty his stomach again. "Santana," Blaine routed, nudging Kurt toward her, "Help Kurt out. I'll take Brittany. Keep your head down and follow me."

Turning his back on the persistent cameras, Blaine headed over to where Brittany rested, absolutely unconscious at that point, an alarmingly blue hue to her skin, especially around her stomach. He queasily knelt over her and tried to keep his head up so it didn't throb, and he slid his hands under her thighs and the place between her shoulder bones. Her head lolled against his chest and she rolled into his warmth, a low moan spitting from her white lips. He carried her back over to where Santana stood with her arms locked around a quivering Kurt, and Santana whimpered at the sight of her struggling girlfriend. She hopelessly looked at Blaine, seeking her answers, "Will the baby die?"

Blaine kept his head straight forward, unable to even look at what horror the baby inside of Brittany was probably going through, fighting back the drugs flowing through her blood, a cloud of smelly fog wafting toward him. "I don't know," he finally muttered, "I don't know, Santana. The baby will be lucky if it survives, but the drugs are gonna hurt it. Somehow. We have to get out of here. We can't wait any longer. Kurt?" Snatching Kurt's hand in his, Blaine wedged Brittany higher up his chest and plowed forward, Kurt pacing on his heels with Santana's hand on the small of Kurt's back. He limped as best he could toward any kind of exit, anxiously searching through the crowds of bodies so naïvely standing there, waiting for something interesting to happen.

Sickly, Blaine gasped for air through his tight lungs and he shoved a man aside, who hardly noticed until he actually stumbled, his cock—partially out of his zipper—swinging limply at his hips. He felt Kurt's other hand clench onto the hem of his shirt, his feet nearly tripping on Blaine's he held himself so closely against him. "Blaine!" Santana abruptly shouted above the noise, and he glanced over his shoulder to find her pointing toward a neon-lit exit sign. He immediately turned a sharp corner and threw someone—a bar tender, perhaps—aside, and he punched the door open. A breeze of cool, light air hurried to his nostrils, and he breathed in so heavily he choked on what he thought might have been cigarette smoke from a lit up bud fuming on the concrete ground, not quite stomped out yet.

He spied Kurt's car adjacent to the front of the building and rushed in that direction, reaching back and practically lifting Kurt off his heels he ate the ground so quickly with his strides. Prying open the back door, Blaine plopped Brittany into the seat farther from him then patted Kurt's bottom as he wriggled inside. Pavarotti clung to his palm like a lifeline. Leaning over Kurt, who carefully hooked himself in with a seatbelt, Blaine pressed the tip of his nose to Kurt's, "I want you to sleep, Kurt. We're going to be in the car for a while—we're not going home. I'm taking you to Westerville." When a tear dripped from Kurt's chin and he sniffled, his nose runny and wet, Blaine kissed the underneath of both of his eyes and wiped the edge of his sleeve over Kurt's pink nose, "Shh… calm down. Everything's okay, baby. Nothing's going to happen to you. I've got you. I'm here, sweetheart—I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, Kurt. Not for a long time."

"Wait, Blaine," Kurt pinched Blaine's jacket, "my dad. He's still home—what if Karofsky goes back?"

Blaine leaned in farther to take weight off of his injured ankle, hearing Santana open the passenger door and slip inside. With a twist of a key, the car's lights cast spotlights everywhere, highlighting the tear streaks on Kurt's cheeks, "He'll go to the police station. I'll call him to let him know we're safe. Karofsky won't find him." Slipping his jacket from his shoulders, Blaine draped it over Kurt and smoothed it out, then tilted his head and parted his lips on Kurt's for a swift kiss. "Everything's fine," he promised one last time, running his hands over Kurt's arms.

Shutting Kurt's door, Blaine swept around the car, unsure of whether he was convincing himself of that, or Kurt, because from what he could see, this was just the beginning of Karofsky's wrath; he'd proven what he wanted.

He popped open his door and slipped inside, shutting it behind himself. As he reached for the wheel, he flicked his eyes to Santana's worrisome face, her hands delved into her jacket pockets and her eyes on her lap. He scanned them over to Brittany, who looked none too well as the drugs penetrated her every cell, slowly eating away at her and her baby. Then his eyes drifted to Kurt, a firm but scared expression on his face, his skin so pale and his eyes bright. Kurt, blinking several times and glancing in the mirror as though he'd been tugged there, met Blaine's determined eyes while he backed the car out of its spot and pulled forward.

For a moment, they studied one another, and Kurt's lips trembled in the mirror, betraying his fright of Karofsky.

_Okay… so I'll call you._

_You don't have my number._

_Fine, Kurt Hummel, if you want to be difficult I can easily stand outside your window throwing pebbles at it until you answer._

_I'd rather be alone tonight… Thank you for the offer, though._

Blaine closed his eyes, the memories flashing through his head, of that quirky grin on Karofsky's face as the two of them met for the first time… _It's nice to finally meet you, Blaine…_

_I'm not gay… because I know I'm straight._

_You're not gay, Blaine…_

_What if I told you I loved you?_

He breathed out and opened his eyes, trying to make some sense of the jumbled mess in his head. Flicking his eyes back up to the mirror, where Kurt still watched him, Blaine sank into the gentleness of his eyes, and he reached his hand back for Kurt's, when Kurt noticed it and linked his own fingers through Blaine's, twining them and squeezing. "They can't touch us," Kurt whispered softly, and Blaine tilted his head at Kurt. Kurt nodded, causing Blaine to briefly curve his lips and trace his thumb against the inside of Kurt's wrist.

"So much courage, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, bringing Kurt's hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the soft part under his fingers. "Never, ever lose your fire."

Karofsky had given all of them something to dread, something to keep them looking over their shoulders at any given movement, and they each knew he would always be there, because he had something that belonged to each of them.

But rather than dwell on that, Blaine blinked over his shoulder at Kurt's small, petrified face, a darkness to his eyes that hadn't been there before—simply from the damage Karofsky had rained onto him. Neither of them—none of them—were ready to give up yet, however, which was something Karofsky would never see coming.

_He's the only reason I haven't given up,_ Blaine thought to himself, pursing his lips together and reaching out to touch Kurt's knee.


	39. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

Author's note: Hello, readers! I am SO sorry about the long wait! I've been in a HORRIBLE writer's block with this chapter, so this isn't my best work but for what it's worth I think it turned out okay :) The next few chapters will vary between the hospital, the performance and Blaine's football Booty Camp-basically him fighting everyone on the football team at least once, the glee girls complaining, and Kurt trying not to get squished XD but because I don't have an exact plan for the upcoming chapters and never want to subject myself or my readers to another writer's block that lasted this long, I'd be happy to take on an official Beta :) I have a few unofficial ones, but if you'd like to officially Beta this PM me or review. I write on a pretty constant basis and I'm always trying to shape new ideas, so if you could also have a fairly open schedule that'd be helpful :) Anyway, I still love you all and you amaze me with your support! Oh, and, Happy Halloween, Klainers!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, as always

* * *

Blaine squirted a splattering of mint blue paste onto the fans of a brush, the prickly spikes rustling and bending under the weight of the runny glop. He returned his gaze to the mirror, and for a brief moment he stopped to stare at himself. Even under the hazy moonlight swinging shadows through the cramped, dusty room, and the otherwise dim lighting, he could see that he wasn't the man he used to be—if he was man at all. He lifted a shaky hand to his face, running his fingers over his sculpted jaw, grainy with a dark shadow of stubble. Grazing them up toward his defined, hardened cheekbone, Blaine suddenly released his face and snatched a handful of curls dripping over his forehead. He smoothed the calloused hand over his scalp, touching each and every shortened curl springing from the gel casing he'd painted them in the previous morning.

He leaned closer to the mirror and blinked at every detail of his face, his golden irises to his thin, cracked lips. Deep lines carved patterns under and above his eyes, giving him a distinctly aged appearance. Draping himself closely to the reflecting mirror that showed all that he wanted to see and things he could have done without, Blaine inhaled sharply at a harsh throbbing in his ankle when he set too much pressure on it, and he jerked his foot up. Behind him a low snort pulverized his privacy, and he whipped around to eyeball a sardonically smirking Santana leaning in the doorway.

She tilted her head at him as though waiting for a reply, so he bitterly snapped while hobbling on one leg as he tried to catch hold of his injured foot, "Huh?"

She looked back into the two bedded bedroom which they had rented for the day, at least to give Kurt and Brittany somewhere to rest while he and Santana plotted a plan against Karofsky. The last he had checked—in the car just before he shut it off and carried a bundled up Kurt and Pavarotti into the cheap motel—it was at least six, an hour before the sun usually peaked. Twisting toward him again, Santana pursed her lips together and kicked the door shut behind her, "Kurt's asleep," she muttered, glancing down at his foot, "So's your bird. I knew that would happen, Blaine."

Setting his foot on the floor, Blaine shook his head and jabbed his almost forgotten toothbrush in the corner of his mouth, then reached for the hem of his shirt. In a swift move he ripped it over his head, using it to wipe his sweaty face. He tossed it to the floor. "What would happen?" he spat around the toothbrush, returning his attention to the mirror as he scrubbed his teeth, "That Karofsky would break into my house when we had terms?"

Santana only blinked, crossing her arms over her chest, "Well, that. But I was talking about your leg. It's inflamed. You should see a doctor, Blaine."

"I'll wrap it," was all he said, and he bent over the sink to empty his mouth.

"Fine," she bit out, inching forward to place her hands on either of his muscular, expanding and contracting sides, and she patted gently, "but I'm taking Brittany to a doctor as soon as she's ready. Do you want me to take Kurt with—?"

"No," Blaine's head snapped up, his skin blanched, but when he saw the furrowed expression on her face his eyes softened, his tight lips loosening from their firmness, and he abated the distrust from his caustic tone, "I mean… no. I want to keep him with me, Santana. Until… Until I _know _he'll be safe. I don't want him going into town without me, that is."

She stepped away from him again, but slid her hands to his back, kneading the knotted skin over his shoulder blades, "I get it, Blaine. If some psycho was stalking Brittany, I'd never want her leaving my side. Luckily, this is Karofsky and he's not a fan of vagina." Blaine cleared his throat, and Santana sighed as she walked around him and boosted herself up on the counter, stretching her legs out and massaging her grimy knees from kneeling on the dirty ground of the gay bar. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I know how it looks… like I'm not taking this seriously. I am, though. I know how dangerous Karofsky is." She paused again, yet Blaine didn't bother replying as he scraped the toothbrush against his teeth for the thousandth time, an obsessive chore he undertook just so he had something to occupy his hands so he didn't claw. She, once again, filled her own silence, "You know what the funny thing is?"

From the corner of her eye, she caught Blaine's face tilting slightly toward her, his pupils round and blown out of proportion. Unable to help herself, Santana reached over and touched his thigh, just needing some sense that he was still there, to remind herself that she wasn't alone. He felt warm; it was such a comfort to touch him, aware that he had her back through this insane time, even if he was just in it for Kurt. "For a long time, I knew." Her voice wavered, and she touched two of her fingers to the hollow of her throat, as though that might help to push the lump of tears down, "I… know more about men and sex than I should, because I'm a lesbian. I know what a horny man looks like. From the moment Karofsky first came to McKinley, I sensed something off about him. He confirmed it all when he met you."

Blaine's lips parted, and the brush slid out from between his teeth, "Confirmed what?"

"That there was something wrong with him," she whispered matter-of-factly, unable to meet his wide eyes.

"You dated me, though," Blaine pointed out, rinsing off the brush and plopping it into a jar filled with one other brush—Kurt's. He moved onto his jeans and worked with the button on those, playing with it for a few seconds before muttering, "At homecoming you said you wanted me back. You tried to break Kurt and me up. If you knew all of that, why didn't you speak up? Why did you go along with it?"

Santana dropped her head against the wall, her eyes filling. Blaine jerked his eyes toward her, startled because he'd never seen her break to the point that she cried before, but he didn't interrupt her. He was too damned curious about what the hell had happened to get them to the point they were at now to stop her. "It was stupid, Blaine. I thought Karofsky was _nothing,_ and that I was just seeing things. You were two jocks who cursed and fought like dogs and threw kids in port-a-potties. I never imagined that _either_ of you would come out. Now it's too late. Brittany's knocked up and Kurt's life is on the line. And he wants you as his whore."

Blaine stopped jostling with his pants, his gaze lifting once more to Santana's small, scrunched face, "Santana, what's done is done. And even if you had spoken up, we'd still be here. Karofsky would still be insane even if someone had noticed it before he started this."

"Be _where?_" Santana moaned, a single tear slipping over her left cheek, "Motel jumping because we're not safe in Lima? Blaine, you and Kurt can get out! You can leave, but Britt and I are trapped with this _forever._ Brittany is having his child in five months and we're going to be _stuck _with it until he eventually kills it!"

His body immediately stiffened, and before she could make a sound he spun toward her, his golden eyes bright and his jaw jutted, "_Get out?_ Santana, Kurt and I have _nowhere_ to go! He'd follow us! He just threatened that he'd track Kurt down to France and slit his throat if I told anyone! He's done it before—killed someone!" Once he spat the words out, he stopped and fell back against a wall, his hands flying to his forehead. Peeking between his trembling fingers, Blaine lapped his tongue over his raw lips and a tear flirted with his right eye, swinging over his bottom lid and dripping over his cheek. Santana's mouth slightly parted like she couldn't get enough air, but other than her slowly rising brows and pallid skin no one could tell that he'd just admitted to her that her girlfriend was swollen by a killer.

"Kurt…" his voice broke sharply, so he swallowed again then tried, "He told me a long time ago—when we first became friends—that he'd seen his best friend be killed. I didn't think anything of it, Santana… The killer was back in France, and Kurt was with me, and nothing interesting _ever_ happens in Lima." His face flamed with color, and another tear wobbled against his lashes, "Then Karofsky told me that he did it—that he _saw_ Kurt before I even knew him, and that Kurt was there to watch his best friend die at Karofsky's hand, and Kurt's probably scared out of his mind now that it'll happen to him—and that makes me so fucking sick, Santana. He knows where Kurt will go when he leaves Lima, and he wants to kill him… He's done it before. He killed a boy just because he was gay. Kurt pissed him off… I can't _imagine_ the fucked up things that go on in his head when he thinks about killing him—"

"Blaine," Santana staggered forward, reaching out to touch him, but Blaine turned his back on her before she could put her hands on him. He leaned his forehead against the wall, breathing leisurely through his nostrils, his mouth tight and his nails quivering to soothe his anxious traumas and bring him back to himself with the sharp sting and paint of blood hitting the surface. He craved it, digging his nails in and slicing the skin off where scars had formed a thousand times before, first a crimson red, then pink, and finally a tattoo of white scratches decorating his tan skin. Realizing his knuckles were curling and his nails were lightly peeling to pierce, Santana swatted his wrist, "Blaine, stop it. I hate it when you do that—that scratching thing. You know, by doing it you're giving into him. You're letting him under your skin—"

Blaine spun again, this time with much more force and he raised his hands to unveil his nearly white palms—so severely scarred they exposed faint slivers of tan underneath the silver, "_He is underneath my skin!_" Blaine shrieked, the veins in his neck pulsing and huge. "He destroyed me, Santana. He took _everything._ Because of him, my virginity was stolen. I lost my best friends, my self-worth, people's respect for me. I became his puppet, Santana. He controlled everything, right down to how I breathed. I never wanted to be a bully. I didn't have _anything_ against gay people or disabled people or even that kid I punched—Santana, I didn't."

Santana stepped forward again, though this time he didn't reject it when she looped her arms around his broad shoulders and laid her hands between his shoulder blades. His rigid body shivered against hers, so she smoothed her hands over his sallow skin, yet she had no more energy in her aching, weary body to support him along with herself and Brittany any longer. Blaine finally moved against her, his neck vibrating on her shoulder, "Maybe I should give in."

Santana squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to his body, "Give in to what, Blaine? Karofsky?"

Blaine's eyes snapped open, "If that's what it takes to keep Kurt safe," he blew out between his teeth, his lashes fluttering as the breeze of his own breath hit his face, and then he peeled himself off of her, "then, yes. I'll give in to Karofsky. There's _nothing_ I won't do to keep Kurt safe."

* * *

Blaine lowered onto the edge of the bed and dumped the gauze, scissors and medical tape beside his hip. Long after Santana retired to bed, Blaine finally determined that he needed rest once he thought over things—his past with Karofsky, his future with Kurt—and he realized that he couldn't sit around and wait for Karofsky to move again. He'd have to do it on his own and confront Karofsky before letting him out of his sight again, with all the freedom to plot against Kurt as he pleased. Blaine had learned the hard way that Karofsky took full advantage when Blaine let his guard down even for a moment, and Blaine swore that he would never make such a mistake again.

Startling at a soft whimper behind him, Blaine tilted his head and flicked his eyes over his shoulder to where Kurt's tiny body was curled up on top of the blankets. Kurt's shoulders lightly trembled and mewls slipped from his throat, obviously betraying to Blaine that he'd overheard all that had been said between he and Santana. Heartbroken, Blaine forced himself to turn away and not go to Kurt to comfort him. He couldn't bring himself to. It killed him to neglect Kurt, but it was better than lying through his teeth and saying that everything was okay. Kurt wasn't naïve, especially after listening in on everything he and Santana discussed.

Blaine's endearments would mean nothing to him.

Kurt needed to know the truth.

* * *

They eventually returned to school. Well, Kurt did. Santana admitted Brittany to a hospital and refused to leave her, even after the threat of being kicked out of school for missing so many days, and Blaine had his own business to take care of.

Karofsky vanished.

A call to Principal Figgins and a few emails later divulged that Karofsky had been expelled not days ago due to a lack of attendance and overabundance of fighting. Blaine had every intent of finding Karofsky before he found Kurt in all the wrong situations.

Kurt clicked the trilling radio off as Blaine spun the car into the McKinley High parking lot the morning Kurt returned to school, the very day after they recuperated in the motel in Westerville. Besides needing a distant place from Lima for them to stay, Blaine admitted to himself that he'd truly wanted to check out the area in case he and Kurt ended up in Dalton Academy, and its sister school, Crawford County Day, for Brittany and Santana. But even he had to acknowledge that he didn't have the money to support all four of them, that at best he could afford to send Kurt to Dalton for safety from Karofsky, but he couldn't stand the idea of being separated from him.

Just in case Karofsky figured out his scheme and traced Kurt straight to Dalton. Well… that wasn't the only reason, he presumed, but it was one of the many of them.

Besides, with Karofsky expelled Blaine figured that for now the move wasn't necessary, even if he still wanted it.

Spying Finn and Puck wedged against the dumpsters, Blaine turned his wheel and crept toward them. He pulled the car up alongside them and put on the brakes, then rolled down his window as Finn approached first. He glanced past Blaine at Kurt, who wiggled free of his seatbelt but remained in the car, desperate to keep his fingers intertwined with Blaine's for as long as possible. "'Morning, Kurt," Finn nodded, and Kurt lifted his dull, blue gaze to Finn's sympathetic face.

"_Salut,_ Finn."

Blaine looked over at Kurt and privately grieved in how silent Kurt had been all morning, when usually Kurt loved chattering away during car rides or bursting into song when he was fixing his hair or tugging on a spectacular outfit. Doubting that Kurt had spoken more than three words since he'd awoken that morning, Blaine filled what Kurt should have and muttered under his breath, "I want you to stay with him, Finn. I'll be back to pick him up after Booty Camp. You won't leave him?"

"Me or Puck will have him at all times today," Finn promised without pause, leaning further in the car so he could whisper closer to Blaine's ear, "Where are you going today? Where are Santana and Britt? I know you know."

"Brittany's in the hospital," Blaine slid his eyes over to Kurt, who had taken a preference to playing with and wiggling Blaine's fingers resting in the spaces between his, their intertwined hands against his thigh. Kurt watched his hand so alertly, his eyes narrowed and searching as he stroked Blaine's fingers. Blaine gave him a light squeeze, which startled him into widening his eyes and clenching Blaine's hand to his stomach. "Santana's staying with her. I'm going to see them now, then I'm taking Kurt up there after Booty Camp."

"'Kay," Finn backed off with his questioning, sliding his elbows out of the car, "I'll call Santana to check up on how things are going." His eyes flicked to Kurt, who wearily met them with no little discontent, lips in a frown and eyes doleful at the thought of leaving Blaine—even for a few minor hours, "You ready to go? I'll sit by you in English today if you'd like—or if you want Puck to."

Kurt bent to collect his Louis Vuitton bag, and he shuffled it into his lap as he reached for the door handle, "_Oui,_ thank you. I'd like that, Finn."

When Finn strode away to mutter something to Puck then nodded at Kurt, Blaine reached over to touch Kurt's back. Kurt froze, his hand on the half-open door. "Hey," Blaine tugged on his shirt and pulled him into his seat, "I'll be back to pick you up after Booty Camp, honey. With any luck I can get there for the last ten minutes and see you dance."

Kurt looked at Blaine from under his thick sweep of blond lashes, the same way he had when they first met, "Yes, I hope so, too."

Blaine rubbed his hand over Kurt's arm and leaned in for a brief kiss. Kurt's lips parted on his, though they didn't take it much farther than a hasty tasting. Pulling away, Blaine indented another warm kiss to Kurt's forehead, "I love you. Stay with Finn and Puck today."

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered, then his blue gaze flickered to Finn and Puck, still bowed over each other and muttering with occasional gestures in Kurt's general direction. Sighing, Kurt kicked a leg out the door, swinging the other to the ground with it, and he scooted from his seat.

Blaine pressed a button to roll his window up while Kurt snapped his door shut, and as Kurt rounded the car Blaine zeroed in on his swaying hips, his long, full legs carrying him to Finn and Puck. They each murmured a greeting to him, and a silky smile tugged a corner of his lips, but Blaine could see the dejection in his eyes as clearly as he could see his own hand, the apathetic effort forced into the small grin.

Blaine had never seen a sight so shattering as a lifeless Kurt, his fiery enthusiasm burned out. It filled Blaine with all the more vehemence to end Karofsky and restore Kurt's fervor.

* * *

Blaine rapped his knuckles against the cool mantel of the hospital door. He cushioned his cheek against the wall, his clothes too tight and his skin burning. This had been where he met Burt, and one of the many places that he confirmed that he was as in love with Kurt as he always believed. So many memories flashed through his mind of chasing Kurt through the hallways, that perfect blush ripe in his round cheeks as Burt stirred and tugged his son into his arms for the first time in five years, and his sweet laughter musically cascading through the air after Burt played him that Blaine might be his boyfriend—neither of them aware at the time of what was soon to come. His eyes glowed the second he placed them on Burt, and Blaine remembered how he felt when they swung toward him, still dancing with smiles and ecstasy that his dad was okay.

He'd been beautiful.

If only Blaine could see that smile flit through his wide, blue eyes once more.

Within seconds, the click of Santana's heels punctured his ears, and she pushed open the door. Her dark eyes wavered across his face, her skin shockingly blanched and tear streaks highlighting her cheekbones. "Santana—" he muttered, tensing his body as she suddenly collapsed against him. She pushed her face into his chest and tears spurted from her eyes, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

He immediately touched a hand to her dark, sweaty locks and he brushed a strand away from her face, his eyes tracing the interior of the room and falling upon an incompetent Brittany, her bulging stomach toward the low-lighted ceiling and wires trailing down and over her body, throughout her hospital gown and injected deep within her skin. A heart monitor settled against her bed beeped in a steady, monotone rhythm.

Suddenly, there was no question in his mind, and he imagined that Santana recognized the same by how she ruined his jacket. Brittany—or her baby—was going to die.


	40. The Only Exception

Author's note: I've been in a funk and I'm sorry! I swore I wouldn't let the Klaine break-up get to me but it kind of has and then I feel like no one's reading this anymore and then there's school and preparing for college, so there are all my excuses! I usually don't like excuses at all but I feel like I need to justify that horribly long hiatus. Anyway, Blaine has at least a half a million different emotions during this chapter and I know you guys are having angst from both Glee and this story shoved onto you like how Ryan Murphy used to shove Finchel onto everyone, so here's some fluff at the very beginning and sort of middle of this chapter! :) And then the end gets depressing again and you all start thinking I'm a terrible person :( The good part is that I'm still and always will be a sucker for happy endings!

P.S. Land of Stories AND SBL. WINS.

Disclaimer: Do I have to write any more of these or do you all understand at this point that I don't own this show? I mean... seriously!

P.P.S. Arkell, I love you and I'm sorry. No drabbles in this one. Maybe one day I'll write a whole new Klaine fic of a series of idiotic one-shots of Klaine making gingerbread men cookies and going to Subway... but not now. Until then, Klaine!Sushi Cat and Barbie Girl on!

* * *

Kurt tilted his head from side to side, flinging another rejected pair of pants over his shoulder. Scoffing at his lack of variety and diminishing fabrics for the imminent spring, Kurt tugged another rubber pair off the top of his neat pile and pinned them to his hips.

Soon enough, though, that pair of pants flew over his shoulder, as well.

From his bed, when that particular pair thudded threateningly close to him, Pavarotti popped onto his long, spindly legs and twittered to warn Kurt not to crush him as he nestled back down into an out-of-season scarf. Flicking his eyes to the mirror reflecting the bed behind him, Kurt apologetically lightened his tossing for the next discard and assured it flew in the opposite direction of Pavarotti.

He returned his eyes to his pile, which he bitterly noticed was slimming into a few sparkly shirts and skirts that made him look like a pear. At this rate, he'd be resorting to Blaine's closet—not that he minded Blaine's clothes, but he wasn't sure he could last through a performance without Blaine's pants falling to his ankles as he shimmied. Even the faint thought of such a humiliation forever scarring his reputation as a performer drained the blood from his face.

He needed new clothes—_now._

Backing away from the mirror, Kurt skirted over to the bed and knelt at the end of it by Blaine's feet. He skimmed through his remaining designers at least three times, searching for anything decent, anything in season, anything that screamed Michael Jackson—other than his iconic and dazzling, glittery glove he bought just for the occasion—but came up short each time. Eventually, he surrendered and flopped back on his bed, a low, garbled groan gurgling from his throat.

Immediately, Blaine's consistent clicking on his phone halted and Kurt shivered as a scratchy sock brushed his neck, Blaine's toes flexing on his skin and tickling him. He swallowed a giggly snort, not willing to abandon his theatrical sorrows quite yet. He was suffering of fashion loss, and he needed to wallow in that for a while just in case Blaine might pity him and come up with an idea, since he was totally spent.

Although Blaine knew exactly what was wrong, he still bothered asking and a hint of a smile was weaved through his voice, "Can I ask what's wrong this time or will you get flabbergasted again?"

Almost amused by Blaine's sarcastic humor, something he had missed for so long, Kurt decided to joke along and spluttered half-seriously, half-playfully, "My days as a performer are over—that's what's wrong!"

Blaine took his turn to roll his eyes, and Kurt tilted his head up to meet his gentle gaze, his golden eyes flickering affectionately over Kurt's small, scrunched face, "Oh, hush," he chided, bending until he could stroke Kurt's jaw, "you and I both know that's not true. So, you can't find an outfit. We'll improvise, Kurt. Lady Gaga did—that's how she ended up in a meat suit."

Kurt's face paled as white as snow, causing Blaine to outright snort and stretch himself—Kurt noticed that with a shiver fluttering just under his skin—even further. Suddenly finding himself staring at an upside down Blaine, Kurt parted his lips automatically and trembled at the reward of a brief touch of mouths. Blaine brushed his lips over the corner of Kurt's, then pulled back altogether and grinned, "We'll work with it, Kurt. There hasn't been an outfit you couldn't pull off before. Hand me that stack."

Admitting defeat to Blaine's expertise, Kurt wriggled out from underneath him and crawled to his knees. He mournfully lifted what was left of his pile of clothes and waited as Blaine resituated himself, then patted his lap for Kurt to climb on. Sighing, Kurt plopped the clothes into Blaine's expecting hands. He wiggled himself into Blaine's limp arms and curled himself against his chest like a wounded gazelle. "It's hopeless, Blaine," Kurt moaned, "I haven't bought new clothes in over a month."

Blaine rubbed his knuckles over Kurt's cheek to soothe him, his fingers delving through each fabric and separating them out. Abruptly, he tore a Miu Miu blouse from the rest of the clothes and weighed it in his palms, then compared it to Kurt. "What about this one, honey? You love glitter."

Kurt pushed the blouse away in a fit of grief, "That's two seasons ago, Blaine."

Blaine instantly dropped his Miu Miu.

Kurt surrendered to the fact that none of his clothes were going to turn up this time, and he pressed a hand to Blaine's bare chest as he lifted himself, "Let's work on your outfit now." Not only would that give him a chance to search through Blaine's closet for some Michael Jackson inspired clothes he might be able to pull off if he wore plenty of belts and sashes, but Blaine also hadn't spent any time digging up an outfit for himself.

He scooted off the bed and hopped around the clothes abandoned on the floor to reach their shared closet—his side of it nearly empty, he observed with a stab of depression. His closet had never been so neglected before, and he usually had clothes for each season in it; bright, popping colors to dusty grays. The collection of drab, wintry colors offset his mood.

Peeling Blaine's everyday attire out of the way, Kurt scooped the faux leathers, metallic and midnight colors into his arms. He forklifted his discoveries over to the bed where he splatted them onto the mattress. Blaine writhed away from the pillows and moved near the clothes, watching as Kurt scrutinized the first pair of jeans.

"When did I get so much faux leather?" Blaine muttered under his breath, fingering a cool, jacket sleeve.

Kurt suddenly laid down a Calvin Klein, fabric jacket with a faux leather vest over the chest, then a pair of dark, fabric pants from the same designer. "There," he stuck his hands on his hips and rocked on his heels to admire his talents of putting together outfits for everyone else—if only it was so easy for himself. "_Ça vous plaît?_"

Blaine cocked a brow at the collection of clothes, "Could use a bowtie. What about shoes?"

Taking one more look at the simple but well stated outfit, Kurt breathed, "Armani combats. Definitely." When Blaine lunged off the bed to retrieve them from the closet, Kurt plopped down himself and called after him, "The black ones, Blaine—with the buckles on the sides!"

Blaine forced open the closet door and knelt down to shuffle through Kurt's thousands of pairs of shoes, and he stuck his head out with a toothy grin, "Would I choose anything different for a Michael Jackson legend?"

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile, "I don't know why I ever doubted you, my _en vogue_ boyfriend." After a moment of watching Blaine scour the closet, Kurt heaved a fretful sigh and flopped back on the bed, "Maybe I should just sit out of this one, Blaine. There's no way I could perform a Michael Jackson song in less than what the King of Pop wore himself. I wouldn't mind letting you have the spotlight, Blaine. You're good at this, and, besides, Santana's lacking a partner."

"Yeah, well, Santana won't be there tomorrow." Blaine said in a snippy tone, cutting Kurt off from any ideas of leaving the performance in the dust, "She told me herself—Brittany's more important to her than Booty Camp, and I'm not blaming her because do you think I'd be leaving your side if you fell into a coma? No." Suddenly Blaine's voice hovered nearby, and Kurt popped his eyes open only to meet a gorgeous, golden gaze as Blaine placed the boots by Kurt's feet, "Besides, you're my partner, and I don't do well unless I'm dancing with you."

Kurt suddenly smirked, and he lifted his head slightly for a kiss. Blaine immediately bent to satisfy him, "Well…" he whispered against Blaine's mouth, his hands reaching to stroke Blaine's stubbly jaw, "I have always been your better half, haven't I?"

Blaine laughed, nuzzling another kiss in, "Absolutely. So, you won't give up?"

Stretching out on the pillows, Kurt shook his head again and eyed Blaine as he returned to the closet, still rummaging, "No. I won't give up."

They lapsed into silence for a time, not an uncomfortable silence but one for thinking, for treasuring the electricity vibrating in the air between them, for adoring each other in secretive glances and thumping hearts at each brush of the fingertips. Kurt missed this more than anything, and was more than happy to have it back.

Eventually, Kurt pillowed his cheek against the cool blankets and his eyes fluttered shut, the distant rustling of clothes and sliding of hangers like music to his ears. They were constant reminders that Blaine was still there, busy in his closet and not even close to leaving. It gave him a sense of peace he hadn't known for so long.

After a while—Kurt wasn't sure how long, as he was certain he'd dozed off somewhere after Pavarotti's patting feet nestled into his back as if he were a bird's bed—Kurt opened his eyes to find Blaine perched next to him on the bed, his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw firm. Automatically, Kurt stretched a limp arm over to Blaine and he curled his hand over his thigh, massaging the muscular tension there. Blaine finally looked down at him, his eyes nearly black and his lips as chapped as ever, but Kurt thought he was so beautiful, even in his time of weariness. Kurt loved looking at him, and eagerly met his golden gaze with his own blue.

Blaine swept a hand through Kurt's hair, brushing a fallen, chestnut lock off his forehead, "You've been asleep," he acknowledged, one brow arched toward his hairline. "You said my name."

Kurt blinked, "I've never slept talk before." He scooted toward Blaine's massive body, cradling his cheek against the top of Blaine's thigh and he sighed gratefully as Blaine began to massage the sore nape of his neck. "How many times did I say your name?"

"Once or twice," a twisted smirk covered Blaine's lips, and he said after a second of swallowing, "or more. You look exhausted, Kurt. You need to go back to sleep—" At Kurt's foul expression, Blaine smiled and bent to kiss his forehead, "How did I know you'd make that face? If not for me, do it for the performance tomorrow. If you fall asleep on stage, you'll have to sit out, and I need my dance partner."

Kurt wearily boosted himself up, only to glue himself back down to the cottony blankets pillowed beneath him, "I need… I need to go to the mall, Blaine. I still don't have an outfit—"

"Shh…" Blaine's lips touched beneath both of his eyes, and his lashes fluttered to stay open, but sleep was so tempting, and something he hadn't had in so long, "I'll take care of you, Kurt… Go to sleep… I love you…"

"Be here when I wake up," Kurt pleaded weakly, desperately clenching the fabric of Blaine's jeans in his fingers, and the last thing Kurt heard before darkness consumed him was the kiss of Blaine's lips against his own, and a whispered expression of love against his mouth. "Blaine… stay…"

* * *

Blaine shoved his hands in his pockets and he padded so quietly up the stairs of his bedroom, pausing only once to check over his shoulder. Draped across the bed with blankets tucked around his shoulders, Kurt had his head tilted slightly to the side and his rosy lips parted, one hand curled above his head. His lids twitched with the flickering of his eyes beneath them, and Blaine assumed that he must have been dreaming. Kurt suddenly shifted, a low mumble falling from his mouth as he curled himself up tighter, nearly disturbing Pavarotti who had burrowed in beside his stomach.

The sight reminded Blaine of how good life could be, and before he could disturb Kurt by making a sound of awe, Blaine spun on his heel and continued upstairs. He hated that with every step the floorboards creaked under his feet, and he walked on the very fronts of his feet. At last, he was spat out of the doorway and sighed in relief that he could be the slightest bit noisier without upsetting Kurt. He reached for the wooden door and swung it lightly shut, the latch clicking into place with a soft, kissing sound.

Strolling away from his bedroom, Blaine sank his feet into the carpet of the living room and he strode across it. Almost inevitably, Blaine damned himself for briefly turning his head as he passed by the window to his right. As expected, a makeshift tent had been glued into place of the hole in the window until Burt and Blaine could take it down and replace it. Punched in the gut by an uncontrollable need to remove Karofsky from his home—and his family—Blaine had taken the pillow with the wet footprint on it and thrown it out, unable to handle it even after a washing that Karofsky had once been there and Kurt might curl up against it.

Karofsky was dead to him.

He shuffled his way up to the garage door and paused at the closed entrance, cynical to what Burt might possibly have to rant this time, as Blaine had seen no change in the fact that Kurt still didn't have a clue about this new woman in Burt's life. And until Burt manned up and spoke to Kurt about it himself—without Blaine—Blaine had little to no respect for the man behind this door. Even his own dad had the bravery to face Blaine and his gayness, as he'd had it in him to at least slap him in the face. Blaine revered that just a little more, figuring that his own dad didn't close himself off in solitude and work relentlessly to not have to face Blaine at all.

Nudging the door open, Blaine dropped onto the first wooden step. He took his hands from his pocket, and pulled the door closed behind him, so that the buzzing and beeping and rumbling of the machines didn't stir Kurt. Blaine wandered deeper into the garage, nearly bumping into a group of meaty workers heaving a busted up, car door over their shoulders. They all but ignored him. He jumped back and watched them march by, their faces dark with soot and charcoal and their army green jumpsuits baggy at their hips.

No wonder Kurt didn't come in here.

He briefly smiled to himself at how funny it was that here were men Kurt didn't even know working in his garage alongside his dad, while Kurt peacefully slumbered downstairs, oblivious to everything happening just a few rooms away.

The smile swept from his lips as he ventured toward the back of the garage, where the newest break-downs constantly flowed in and out. Spying Burt bent over the hood of a Chevy with a blow torch in his right palm and a shielded mask digging into his face, Blaine sighed and lifted a hand to his gelled hair. He slicked down what was already tight to his scalp and he boosted himself up onto the hood of the car next to it.

Immediately, Burt stopped torching and leisurely set it aside, followed by his thick, work gloves that came off of reddened, blistered hands. Burt lastly removed his mask, flipping it up to reveal two swollen eyes and a line of dust ringing around his eyebrows and cheekbones. Blaine might have laughed had he not had so much resentment festering in his heart. "Hello, Blaine," Burt said as he unclipped the mask and lowered it to the ground. Above the roaring of other workers at their apparatuses and car motors growling around them, he called, "What time is it?"

Blaine didn't have to check his watch, "Late."

Burt glanced around himself, "Okay. The guys should be leaving soon. Where's Kurt at? Is he alright?"

"Asleep."

"Has he eaten dinner yet?"

"When he wakes, I'll heat up some soup for him."

The conversation only grew tenser and Blaine saw things plummeting downhill for him and Burt, "Shouldn't you be sleeping? You haven't had a full night's since… Shoot, a week, I bet? Kurt can eat in the morning—"

"Kurt will eat tonight," Blaine instantly countered sharply, "I don't want him going hungry."

Burt continued to insist, "I could heat you both up something. I'll probably head in soon and make myself a plate of toast if you want some—"

"Burt, it's fine." Blaine cut him off, "I'm used to taking care of myself. Making Kurt some soup won't be a problem. What do you want? You called me in here and I know it's not to discuss Kurt's diet. If you have nothing important to say, I'll go back inside. Kurt needs me with him when he wakes up."

Burt hesitated, "I just wanted to know about this booty performance you and Kurt have tomorrow. Neither of you have been talking much around me and I like getting in on what's going on in Kurt's life."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry we've been trying to escape a psychopath these past few days, but we'll try to have more family discussions at dinner every night." The acid in his voice caused Burt to wince, his eyes squinting tightly. Blaine, realizing he was getting nowhere except a bad place in Kurt's heart when he found out how rude Blaine was being to his dad, gave up with a harsh sigh and stroked a hand over his hair again, "It's tomorrow night—and it's called Booty Camp. You'll be there?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Burt admitted quietly, obviously shameful in his lack of being able to approach Kurt about Carole, "Actually… Finn was talking to me about it the other day. Carole and I are driving to the school to see it together. There's one more thing I need to ask, Blaine."

Blaine remained silent.

Burt ducked his head, and he muttered, "Carole wants to meet Kurt… after the show. Finn's already agreed, and he's bringing his fiancée to Breadstix. You don't have to come, Blaine, and neither does Kurt, but this… this is an important moment for me—whether Kurt will like her or not. And… and if you do. Because, I expect that one day Kurt will marry you. And I don't want our family to collapse because of tension or getting off on the wrong foot."

"So, that's your way of telling him?" Blaine swallowed down a mouthful of vulgar words, "You're not even going to talk to him about it? You'll just let their meeting speak for itself? I'm not telling Kurt for you. If things get desperate and you won't man up, I'll eventually do it—but not now. He needs to concentrate on the performance, and he's already worn down from Karofsky. He doesn't need this suddenly thrown on him. What you're doing is wrong. I get it, he's gay. He might even cry when you tell him. But is comforting him when he needs his dad that grueling of a task, Burt? You're not being fair—you're not even giving him a chance. He came for you when you were dying, and you're not even going to talk to him about him possibly having a new step-mom when his own mom died."

"Blaine, I know how you feel about this—"

"You don't know anything about me!" Blaine blurted, and at first he regretted the assumption, but he was too far gone in a rage to stop, "I've never told you my opinion about this, just that I'm so disappointed that you don't have the courage to speak to your own son. I've met Carole, and I think she's wonderful. She'd be able to care for Kurt in a way that you can't, and I think Finn would take his place as a brother for Kurt. I've never doubted that. What concerns me is the way you're putting Kurt through this. You're his dad, Burt. No, you haven't seen him for five years, and, no, you don't know everything about him. I know he's a celebrity and plans to leave again one day, but that doesn't take away your responsibility. As his boyfriend—even though I know he will leave me one day—I'm still going to love him to the best of my ability. He deserves that. We're both just a couple of small town, Lima losers compared to him, Burt, but for whatever reason he still loves us both, and I don't know about you but I'm taking advantage of that."

* * *

"Kurt, where's your costume?"

At the familiar voice, a helpless smile curved his lips and he whipped around to spot Santana striding toward him. She most certainly didn't look perfect, her cheeks too hollow and her skin too washed out, but her outfit—a Chanel, leather jacket with a Louis Vuitton lamp skirt and a pair of Armani pumps—impressed him. "Santana!" he waved boldly to her, startling everyone around him into pausing as they considered when Kurt and Santana might have formed an alliance, "You look amazing! Way to wear Armani!"

Santana laughed and flung herself onto Kurt, squeezing him into her arms, "Why aren't you, of all people, in designer? I figured you'd be in a feather boa and wearing a crown by now!"

Kurt bitter sweetly smiled, tugging free of her hold, "Oh, I couldn't find anything to wear. All of my clothes are out of season. I'll put something together from the costume room, hopefully."

The smirk from her mouth dropped, "You better hurry. We go on in less than twenty. But, where's Blaine at?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Kurt pointed toward the stage door, "He said he'd be back in a minute. I think he went to the bathroom to change." At her brief pause to scan the area around them, of performers hopping around as they tugged on last minutes tights, accessories, or made costume adjustments, and others humming and preparing their voices, Kurt furrowed his brows, "What are you doing here, Santana? I figured you'd be with Brittany."

"I almost didn't come," she confessed, arching her brows, "It was difficult to leave Brittany. But she's getting better. Her skin color's back to normal, at least, and her heart rate isn't as slow. I'm going back right after this, but you and Blaine need my support, too."

Kurt wasn't sure whether to be insulted or complimented, but he smiled nonetheless, "Well… thank you for coming, Santana. It means the world to me that this performance matters so much to you."

"Santana? What are you doing here?"

Both of them turned their head and Kurt's insides were suddenly drenched in warm honey, and he grinned as Blaine meandered up to them through the crowd of dancers and singers. He sidled up next to Kurt, his body donned in black with a tight, silver glove over his left hand, and he curled a hand around Kurt's waist. "Well, look who it is," Kurt teased playfully, stroking his finger over Blaine's bottom lip and smirking when Blaine stuck his tongue out and licked it—much to Santana's absolute disgust, "the man of the hour."

Blaine rolled his eyes, but didn't comment as he allowed Santana her chance to explain, "I just got here from the hospital. I'll tell you later. Kurt said he needs to see the costume room? And I have to break these heels in."

Blaine cocked a single brow, watching her stagger away, "Okay," he finally smirked, "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you're here, San."

She flicked a wave over her shoulder, the smirk saturating her voice, "Me, too."

Placing his hands on his hips, Kurt diverted his gaze away from her and returned his attention to Blaine, his football bag now tucked under his arm and his nose against the screen of his phone. Kurt raised a single brow at him as Blaine read over something on his screen, his skin unusually ashen and his throat swallowing like he had a sack of nails shoved down it.

Not willing to disturb him from whatever urgent thing he'd found but needing a trip to the costume room to dig up some of last year's leftover play material, Kurt folded his arms over his stomach and glanced over his shoulder. Immediately, he discovered Finn and Rachel backed against the wall, harsh gestures flying between them as they whisper-shouted at each other. Kurt rolled his eyes.

It seemed that lately everything around him was completely crumbling.

It wasn't very fair.

After another moment on his phone, Blaine finally moved and tucked it away in his pocket, then reached for the bag under his arm. "Kurt, honey?" his voice was an octave too high to pass whatever he had read off as trivial, but he quickly cleared his throat as if hoping Kurt wouldn't catch it, "I have something for you."

That drowned out any memory of a bad mood, "A present?" Kurt squeaked, already wiggling.

Blaine managed a brief laugh, but only the tilted corners of his lips hinted that he'd made something more than just a snorting noise, "Well… sort of. Kurt… I-I know I'm the reason you're running out of clothes… You promised your dad to cut back so I could stay with you, and you haven't even complained about it. The clothes you have… even though you think they're outdated... I think you're beautiful in them, b-but… I bought you an outfit for the performance, and I plan on taking you out shopping as soon as possible."

Kurt's eyes filled with weepy tears, and he touched his fingers to his lips, "Blaine, you didn't have to do that! And you definitely don't have to take me shopping. Giving up my shopping sprees… I don't mind it, because if I had to choose, I would pick you over clothes any day. It'd be nice to have more options, but like you said, I can make anything work."

That time even Blaine's eyes smiled, and he bent for a brief kiss that startled Kurt, who was more than aware of the gathering of people around them. Blaine didn't seem to mind, working Kurt's lips like it was in his second nature then tugging away and shrugging it off as nothing more than a kiss between two affectionate lovers—boy or girl. Hesitating to unzip the bag, Blaine shockingly bit his bottom lip, blatantly expressing his nerves—another thing Kurt thought the brave and powerful Blaine Anderson incapable of doing in public. For whatever reason, the openness of Blaine sent a thrill shuddering down Kurt's spine and straight to his lower belly, where a sensual fire started blazing. _I never knew I had a thing for sensitive guys,_ was the last thing Kurt thought before Blaine swallowed again and tore the bag open.

He emptied its contents into his hands, and Kurt's jaw absolutely unhinged, an immediate mouth opening that left him looking like a fish. He clamped shut again. Blaine took it the wrong way, and he started to twist the silks and diamonds away from Kurt, "If you don't like it, there's still the costume room." He blurted quickly, trying to block the fabrics with his body. "I spent hours looking for anything that you might love, and you've never worn Diamant Noisette but I—"

"_The _Diamant Noisette?" Kurt could hardly blink his eyes, so captivated by the silks in Blaine's palms, "Blaine, I don't wear Diamant Noisette because it's so rare to find anything less than half a million dollars. How did you even—?" Kurt stopped himself, inhaling sharply and leaning into Blaine for a grateful embrace, "No. I don't care how you got them, just that you thought of me and loved me enough to do this for me. It's a very sweet gesture and the outfit is the most lovely I've ever seen. Thank you so much, Blaine."

Blaine hated that not only did his face flame, he could feel the burning flush just behind his cheeks, and he swallowed thickly, "You don't have to thank me, Kurt. You deserve this. You've given me a home and a family—" Kurt arched a single brow at him, so he quickly blurted, "—and a true love. You _are_ my greatest love and you always will be, sweetheart." He hesitated again and flicked his eyes to the floor while Kurt peeled one of the pieces of fabric away to examine it, "I asked my brother for money. That's how I got it."

Kurt's heart stopped beating, and he whipped around to face Blaine, "Blaine, that's so much money! We have to repay him or—at least tell me this outfit is loaned. Oh, Blaine, we're saving your brother's money for the baby and I-I can't wear such an extravagant thing _knowing_ this money could have gone to the baby—!"

"Kurt." The gentle flick of fingers against his jaw hushed him, and Kurt looked up with guilty eyes, as if he'd committed some sort of crime against an unborn child for receiving a present, "It's okay, I promise. No, the outfit isn't rented—" Kurt looked absolutely destroyed at that, "—but, sweetheart, I'm telling you that you can indulge yourself on my brother's money every now and then. Yes, it's partially for the baby, but it's also for me—us. Coop's not going to let his baby starve, and he's not going to let you starve yourself of fashion. I think you're about the kindest person in the world to care so much about a baby who isn't one bit your problem, but I need you to wear this, Kurt—if you like it. Like I said, you deserve it."

Kurt's eyes pooled with the shimmer of overwhelming tears, "Am I really worth all that? I've never met someone who's put so much consideration in me."

Blaine's lips curved and he bent to nuzzle Kurt's ear, his voice a hum that tickled Kurt, "Worth it? Please, Kurt." He pressed a kiss into the opening of Kurt's ear, "You're worth _everything,_ little love."

Much like the one he missed so badly it hurt, a smile flirted at Kurt's lips, and Blaine couldn't resist kissing it.

* * *

Blaine loved those few moments before the song kicked on of total silence—except for the clearing of throats and shuffling of programs. Moreover, he loved sharing it with the two people he loved most, Kurt and Santana, both of them at his sides with fingers linked and constant, breathy blows of air from each of them, those performance jitters that had everyone flushed and jumpy. At any moment, anything could mess up, the sound system, a mass departure in the audience due to boredom, or even someone's dancing. One misstep and the whole thing could go down. But Blaine was confident in every part of it, knowing just from watching the improvements from the football players, and even the glee club members, that Kurt had done his best work in syncing them up and creating a masterpiece.

Which made it all the harder for Blaine to do what he knew he had to do.

_Break a leg._ _Break a leg. Break a leg._

Despite the overjoyed cheer of the people scurrying around him for last minute adjustments, Blaine couldn't get that out of his head—or the person who had sent him a text. Plenty of people offhandedly blurted it to someone performing, and then the encouragement faded from everyone's minds. The performer knew he would do well—who would think that he needed a pat on the back—and the blurter might think about it occasionally, wonder if his little endearment was the reason the performer was doing so spectacularly.

Blaine would be wrong for thinking that way, though.

_Do exactly as I say when I say it, and I'll let Kurt live._

_Break a leg. Break a leg. Break a leg._

Karofsky wanted him to misstep, to lose the rhythm, make himself fail—perhaps even fall off the stage, if that was what it took to break his own leg.

Blaine was so perplexed, torn between embarrassing Kurt for nothing in case Karofsky wasn't even in the audience since he'd been expelled and banned from school grounds, and the almost irrational and typically silly fear that Karofsky was hiding away in the bushes outside, waiting for Blaine to walk out with Kurt tucked under his arm, no limp whatsoever.

Whatever the case, Blaine wouldn't be able to sleep one wink that night.

He was almost relieved to be going to Breadstix straight after the performance—with other people—because he doubted he'd get off on being alone with Kurt without melting into a panic attack that he'd accidentally drift to sleep and that would be when Karofsky would make his move on Kurt.

_Break a leg._

The screech of a microphone startled him from his thoughts, and he peeked out the curtain along with both a leaning Kurt and Santana to spy Figgins hunched over the microphone, his finger tapping it unnecessarily. "Quiet, students," he muttered, and for whatever reason the lack of noise beforehand his command flicked a grin across Santana's lips. Kurt was too busy concentrating on reviewing the performance in his head and checking that everyone was lined up to notice her humor. Blaine was aware of it, but he, too, had his own conflictions to worry about, rather than even for a second zero in on Figgins' obliviousness.

"And now…" he continued after some words Blaine had obviously missed, "Here is a treat from the New Directions, put together by our own Kurt Hummel." Figgins made a gesture for applause, and only a scattered few of groups shortly clapped their hands together, but both Santana and Blaine managed a couple of seconds of applause for Kurt, who shyly stuck his tongue between his teeth as he grinned broadly and flushed in embarrassment. Blaine bent to press a kiss to his head.

"We're all so proud of you," Blaine whispered to him, then the lights dimmed.

"_Merci_," said Kurt through a gentle smile, composing himself to step out onto the stage. Immediately, the spotlight zoomed in on him and Blaine followed on his heels, then Santana on his. The clunking of the football players' feet on the hollow, stage floor was the only other sound besides the clicking of high heels.

An immediate alarm cascaded the audience, each of them leaning forward in their seats as they tried to catch a glance of Kurt, his shimmering outfit highlighted beautifully under the swinging spotlights. Adorned in a short, black jumpsuit with the stomach cut out of it and a trail of diamonds underneath his belly button, each smaller than the one higher than it, Kurt worked his black, stiletto heels perfectly, the strappy patterns dancing all the way up to his bare knees and the heels at least seven inches tall. Glitter dusted his face, especially around his eyes where more diamonds were clustered at the corners, again in that smaller-than-the-last arrangement, and a snowy blur of white lipstick paled out his lips. More glitter sparkled in his hair, flashing a bright white each time the spotlight swooped over him. Against his waist and dangling between his legs was a rippled piece of black fabric dangling limply, and both of his hands donned shimmering, silver gloves, an outburst of color clashing with his black-on-black.

Divinely beautiful.

Kurt's eyes flashed to him, and with a smile of excitement at being back on stage, Kurt strutted in front of him and posed, his body as still as a board. His gaze stared at Blaine's hair, and Blaine watched his mouth part with breathless gasps, an uncertain smile working at his lips. Blaine ducked his head to murmur lowly enough so it wouldn't resound, "Smile. You're beautiful and this is all your work. Enjoy it."

Kurt grinned so brightly his dimples scrunched his cheeks up, and Blaine thought it was precious.

Santana looked over at the two of them, and her brows parted ways with her eyes in favor of her higher forehead, "Game plan?"

Blaine squeezed her hand tighter, "Follow my lead. Don't trip."

Kurt rolled his eyes, and he shook his head at her, "You'll be fine, Santana. At the hospital, after the performance, treat yourself to a chocolate Pina Colada. You're a fighter to come back here right now."

Santana appeared appeased, but she didn't comment on what he said, "Good job with this whole performance, Kurt. It was a lot to take on and it looks amazing."

The sound studio must have been waving down the attention of Kurt, because suddenly he whirled around to the football team and snapped them into attention, "On the count of eight, just like we practiced."

Rather than have Kurt hold his hand through the procedure he knew like the back of his hand, Blaine mentally counted out eight seconds, and just on time the music beat out of the speakers overhead and all around them. After another three seconds Kurt jutted his leg out, his hips swinging to the right while Blaine clamped onto him, preparing for the first jump. Kurt instantly darted into the next move, leaping onto Blaine's body and hooking his knees at Blaine's waist. Blaine boosted him higher up with his palms clenching Kurt's soft thighs as Kurt spread his legs wide against Blaine's stomach and threw himself back, his belly parallel to the ceiling and his hair nearly sweeping the floor.

Blaine ripped through the music halfheartedly and kept track of Kurt and Santana the entire time, the latter soaring through her few solos like nothing had ever happened to disturb her usual, powerful stride these past couple of days. Eventually he was aware of Kurt launching himself out of Blaine's strong hands into the basket of Finn and Puck's arms. Each of them took a foot in his hand while Blaine clasped Kurt's hands, and that was when Kurt began singing, splayed and arching his body. His voice was shrill with passion, so high-pitched that beside of Blaine Santana paused briefly in her humming and twirling to watch Kurt, which made it clear to Blaine that everyone else in the audience was, too.

Tearing his gaze from where Kurt was pulling off his next stunt—Finn and Puck pushing his legs straight up into the air in an elevated hand-stand—Blaine weakly whispered along with them, his eyes constantly scanning the darkened crowd. Flashes of dancers whipping in front of him blocked his vision, and his concentration was completely torn when, balanced only by Blaine's hands linked through his, Kurt slowly spread his legs again into a perfect split. He stickered them together after a moment of Finn and Puck holding them there, then with plenty of practice under their belts they pushed Kurt's legs toward Blaine's shoulder.

Santana, keeping devotedly close to him, sashayed behind Blaine and reached up for Kurt's hips, the latter having bent his legs over Blaine's shoulder. Blaine also lifted his hands to Kurt's waist, and he hoisted him further up until Kurt was laid completely flat on his stomach on Blaine's shoulder, his legs and arms straightened into _v_ shapes in front and behind him.

It always amazed Blaine that in those intensive routines Kurt had picked up from Broadway, he never once missed a beat.

Abruptly, Kurt completely draped himself over Blaine, arms dangling against Blaine's back. His thumbs hooked into Blaine's belt loops, and with the slightest of breath catches Kurt kicked his legs backwards and flipped off of Blaine. Santana readied herself to catch Kurt in case the stunt failed, but just as practiced Blaine spun around without hesitation and he fastened his hands just under Kurt's arms before he landed.

Now facing the rear of the stage, Blaine, for the first time, noticed the synced-up group of football players executing the novice strategies Blaine assumed that Kurt was mastering by the time he was three years old, including _piqués,_ pikes and plies.

The ending chorus crept up onto all of them before they expected it, and so immediately Blaine clamped Kurt's ankles into one fist, and his shoulder in his other palm, and he swung Kurt around so he was half draped against Blaine's chest, and half gliding over the floor. Kurt took advantage of the moment to graze one pointed foot up Blaine's arm and pin it to his shoulder, his head tilting back as he made his body so limp in Blaine's arms, the only thing keeping him from falling.

Blaine almost didn't hear the next few seconds pass by, his entire being captivated by the drained beauty tattooed to his chest, Kurt's lips parted while he panted to gain his breath back. Blaine imagined he looked the same, a wreck of sweat and flushed cheeks and a gaping mouth. After another moment of silence—the music cutting, the dancers freezing their shuffling feet, a cough somewhere in the audience—a burst of applause exploded from the audience.

The football players were the first to move, practically rushing off the stage as though they didn't want to be identified in their stillness and to just go home to rub sore feet and forget this last week ever occurred. Although Blaine didn't understand them, he couldn't blame them. He was as little looking forward to teaching the football week as ever, and got how it felt to be forced into something he didn't want to do.

Suddenly, Kurt, who had bounced off with Santana to the edge of the stage, when Blaine was lost in thought, to thank a group of people careering themselves at Kurt and barking for Kurt's attention—and possibly some autographs, pranced up to Blaine and kissed him smack on the mouth, "We did it!" he cheered, lifting his and Santana's linked hands, "Blaine, it looked wonderful! And my dad was in the front row the entire time. Come on, we have to go meet him! I think he brought flowers for us!"

Blaine's entire good mood that had once been there that night wiped out, and to keep Kurt from it he patted his bottom and kissed his forehead, "You go ahead, baby. I have to stay behind to talk to Schuester about football week. I'll meet up with you in a minute." He flashed a look towards Santana that warned to stay with him, and she nodded in agreement, not arguing as she bulldozed through the herds of people with Kurt right at her heels.

Staying behind only for a moment, only because he needed to think alone, Blaine was lost to the sea of madness around him. Squealing, shouting, laughter, all due to an excellent performance. Blaine felt misplaced. Realizing that not only had Burt not mentioned anything of Carole to Kurt but was resorting to softening the blow with flowers—of all the things, he added bitterly—Blaine pushed aside a group of glee club members and ducked his way up to the front of the stage, overlooking the chaos of more piling up people fighting for the exit and collecting their kids, who they were all too proud of for sticking it out, both on the football players' parts and the glee kids' for putting up with the football players.

It was all a game of give and take.

Blaine knew there was nothing out in the audience for him and he didn't want to deal with the constant pats on the back—_good job out there; you did well, kid_—so Blaine started to turn away to find Kurt and drive him over to Breadstix to completely crush his dreamy night, when in his back pocket his phone buzzed. Automatically assuming it was probably Kurt or maybe even Finn telling him to step on it and that Breadstix would be a madhouse for after-parties if they didn't hurry, he slipped it out and flipped it open, only to frown at the number glaring back up at him. At first he thought to ignore it—he thought he might puke if he got one more text from Karofsky, even if this was one not containing a picture of him half naked—but he'd wronged Karofsky, and they'd made terms. Sure, Karofsky had broken his once, but Karofsky also wasn't concerned about the consequences if he did.

Blaine sure as hell was.

Sighing explosively, Blaine ran his hand over his goopy hair, his curls escaping from their gel casing, and he tapped the screen to open the message. _You hurt my feelings, Blaine._

Blaine's eyes about shot out of his head, and his head snapped up to watch the audience, but still that same-old image of people spilling into the aisles and out into the lobby was the only thing he found. _But, where is—?_

Another text popped onto his phone, and Blaine didn't spend one second thinking about not opening this one. This text confirmed everything he needed to know. _Don't do it again._

And, of course, Blaine's first reaction to that was to lunge straight off the stage, since the stage exits were completely blocked by dance bags and performers stretching or slipping off too-tight shoes. He landed hard on his feet, and sharp prickles temporarily paralyzed him in place as he moaned through his teeth, but he didn't wait long. He couldn't remember who precisely he shoved aside or who looked at him like he had grown wings and a tail, for every cell in his body was zeroed in on finding the love of his life.

"_Kurt!_" he shouted through the commotion, wondering where Karofsky might have been, how he'd found out—had he just texted one of his football buddies from home?—was he still in the vicinity, and was he hunting Kurt down at that very second, while Blaine was stuck behind a line of slowly creeping people toward his exit of choice—Dammit, _move!_

Realizing that pushing on the wall of people wasn't getting him anywhere, Blaine glanced to his left at the emptying rows of seats and he'd never been so grateful for football hurtles in the past. He was sure that he made one of the most interesting sights the people around him had ever seen, clumsily throwing himself over each of the chairs, but his own humility didn't matter to him.

Kurt was in danger, and Blaine knew it.

_Break a leg. Break a leg. Break a leg._

Why couldn't he have just done it, broke his own leg? Sure, the performance would have been ruined, but he never should have underestimated Karofsky. The man might have been insane, but he'd had years of practice at doing it.

_It turns out I killed the fag…_

Blaine's pleas grew more desperate, and he thought he might sob if he didn't reach Kurt in the next second, "Kurt! _Kurt!_"

After what felt like an hour had passed, Blaine reached the front of the line and with no apologetic guilt, Blaine pushed the last of the people aside and found himself out in the lobby. Wondering whether Kurt had gone right or left, Blaine assumed left because maybe Finn had told him they were going to Breadstix and Kurt needed to change, so Blaine whirled around to the left and absolutely sprinted in that direction, a quieter hallway filled with most of Kurt and Blaine's morning classrooms, the choir room, the dance room, and the girl's and boy's bathrooms.

As the constant squawking of people left his hearing range, a quieter giggle from ahead of him pierced the air, and then there was a murmur. Blaine slowed his step when he rounded the corner, and the closer he came upon the boys gathered at the end of the hallway, the more a delicate voice centered somewhere amongst them—from somewhere Blaine couldn't see, the face, Kurt's face, that matched the high-pitched voice, swarmed by their massive bodies—floated clearer into his ear, "…oh, I couldn't. I-I'm already taken. I'm… not sure where he went, but—"

Santana's guttural voice, "You know that Filipino looking man dancing with him on stage? Yeah, that's him. So, step off."

The boys swarmed at the end of the hallway backed up about half a foot. "You're sure?" One of them peeped, "Breadstix is right down the road. We could drive you home by eleven—"

Santana again, "No! What about him refusing don't you understand? And I told you to step off, so do it!"

One of the boys started to lose interest, having realized that Kurt was guarded by not only a boyfriend but a crazy-ass friend. "Whatever. Come on, guys. Pizza at my place."

The other boys were more reluctant, each of them mesmerized by Kurt's beauty. But, like the first, they, too, started to spread ways and stalk down the hallway toward the gymnasium, which was on the other half of the school. Furrowing his brows, Blaine watched the disappointed boys gallop off to the next amusing thing, revealing Kurt and Santana in the middle of them.

Unaware of Blaine, Kurt heaved a sigh and lifted a hand to his hair, brushing a single lock away from his brow. He had slipped his shoes off at one time and now held them in one hand, his tiny feet red and bitten at by the straps. Blaine made a mental note to rub them later. He strode down the hallway to a quick beat, his feet eating the floor until he finally reached the two of them. Santana shoved her heavy hair away from her face and clamped it up into the ponytail her fist made, and she looked at him from under her lashes.

He swept an un-expecting Kurt against his body. Kurt managed a brief shriek until he looked down at the hands clasped around his arms, and he squirmed against Blaine, "_Blaine._ Don't startle me like that!"

Blaine didn't bother apologizing; instead, he bent to nuzzle his lips against Kurt's cheek, "Where were you headed?"

Kurt tilted his head to meet Blaine's gaze, "To the restroom. Santana and I were going to change, then I have to find my dad. Where have you been?"

"Around." Blaine didn't dare give him specifics. "You can change in the car." Hooking Kurt in the bend of his arm, Blaine spun him around and—

"There you guys are!" Finn, at the end of the hallway, shouted at them, waving as if the loud voice wasn't enough. "I've been looking for you ever since the performance ended."

"Shit," Blaine whispered, squeezing Kurt tighter to his chest.

"Hello, Finn!" Kurt chirped.

Finn turned to look over his shoulder, and Blaine released Kurt when Santana placed a hand on his arm. Kurt pranced over to him as Finn beckoned Rachel over, and Kurt began chattering about something that seemed to take Finn for a loss, his eyes completely glassing over as Kurt went on and on.

Blaine might have laughed had his own situation not been so devastating.

Sensing his anguish about his private life—even more private than for Kurt to know—Santana patted his back and rubbed her palm over his shoulder blade, "What's wrong?"

Blaine looked down at her, if only briefly so that he could return his gaze to Kurt, "It's nothing."

Santana's mouth fell open, "After all the shit we've suffered through together, you want to tell me that nothing's wrong? Hold up, things don't work that way, Blaine. Just tell me. As if I would talk about it to Kurt."

"Don't you have a hospital to get back to?" He received no reply, so Blaine returned his attention to her and blinked at her sour expression, "Look… I'll tell you. Just not here. I'm dealing with stuff right now." When she raised her brows at that, Blaine quickly admitted, "Family. San, go—go back to the hospital. I'll text you about it later." She looked doubtful, and he forced himself to continue, "I'm okay, Santana. Things will be fine. Kurt and you and Brittany will be fine."

Santana finally dropped the issue and pressed her face into his chest, "You'll text me later."

He ran a limp hand through her hair, his eyes flicking back to a giggling Kurt, "Mm hm. You should go. I have to… have to be with Kurt right now. He needs me." She twisted her neck to eyeball his smiling form, so Blaine corrected, "Well… he will."

She shook her head, lifting on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, "Whatever the hell's going on with you, don't keep this one to yourself, Blaine. It's not good for you, and it definitely won't be good for Kurt. He'll notice you acting different."

"I'll text you," was all he said.

"Fine," the word slipped out with a bitter twang at the end of it, the _n_ very sharp, and she started to step away from him, "Goodnight, Blaine."

Blaine wasn't alone for a matter of seconds after Santana shrugged him off and swayed down the hallway, momentarily pausing by Kurt to hug him goodnight. Kurt murmured a French endearment to her about her performance, and then he waved for Blaine to join his seemingly growing group, "Blaine!"

Flashing his eyes over the people grouped around him, Finn and Rachel, and Burt and Carole, Blaine shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked over to them, instantly getting tugged in by Finn and slapped on the back, "Good job tonight, man. But I think we know who the star was." Jabbing his fingers at—much to the aggravation of Rachel—Kurt, who laughed and snuggled up into Blaine, Finn winked, "You looked great, Kurt."

"_Merci,_ but I have to disagree on the star." Winding his arms around Blaine's stomach, Kurt pressed his cheek into Blaine's chest, "You did amazing, Blaine."

Blaine patted his bottom to let him know that he thought vice versa.

Kurt, satisfied by the response, finally lifted his head and cocked it so his ear brushed Blaine's collarbone, "So, what are we all doing here? Dad, you know you didn't have to make the trip. I do appreciate that you were here, though."

Burt's solemn eyes stared at the tips of his shoes, unwilling to meet Blaine's own glower as he dared him to speak up. Realizing no one was going to talk, Finn moved beside Carole and draped an arm around her shoulders, "We thought… if this is okay with you, Kurt… that the six of us could head over to Breadstix and celebrate."

Blaine's eyes immediately zipped to Finn, scrutinizing him for any hint that he knew they weren't just celebrating—or trying to—one thing, but two. And, just as before, no one replied. Kurt would have, except he'd looked up at Blaine for his approval of the idea. Finn, getting the wrong message by everyone's sealed lips, blurted, "Unless you'd like to invite Santana, too. I know you three have formed some kind of alliance."

"No," Blaine shook his head, and squeezed Kurt to his chest once more, "Santana has places to be. But…" he eyed Burt, "Kurt and I will go to Breadstix. We'll drive over ourselves and meet you there."

"That's great," Carole clapped her hands, "By the way, Blaine, it's wonderful to see you again. You look fantastic."

Blaine kept his face emotionless, "Same." Finally, he looked away from Burt and rubbed Kurt's cheek and jaw before bending to press kisses to both those places, "Are we driving there now?"

"Sure," Finn grinned, "Beat most of the people heading over there. I've heard that most of the glee kids are hanging out there afterward. Blaine, if you and Kurt want to drive over with Rachel and me, we have room—"

"I'd rather drive alone with Kurt," Blaine beat him to the punch, and his blunt rejection was enough to shut all of them up. "Kurt, I have your clothes in my gym bag. Let me grab that out of my locker then we can leave. I'll be right back." Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Blaine nudged him toward Finn and turned away.

Once he rounded another corner and thought he was out of their hearing range, Blaine slipped his phone from his pocket and dialed in a number, then pressed it to his ear. After a half of a ring, there was a click but no voice on the other end, so Blaine cut to the chase without the small talk—_"Hello?" "Hi, is my psychotic stalker there?"_—"Where are you?"

It took a moment to answer, but when he did a smile was in his voice, "Closer than you think. Going out with dear Daddy and his new girlfriend?"

Blaine turned his head, but still couldn't find Karofsky. There was another smile in his voice, "Don't bother looking. You won't find me."

Blaine flushed with frustration, "What is it, Karofsky? What do you want?"

There was a sucking sound, and then a laugh and Karofsky muttered, "Go. Enjoy your dinner. Have fun with Kurt. That's what I want." There was a pause, and then Karofsky whispered, "But, come here straight after, and come alone. I'll be waiting. I'll tell you where to find me when you get here. And if you forget… or just don't come at all…"

Not bothering with the fact that Karofsky was watching him from somewhere, Blaine pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear and turned to his locker, fumbling with the lock and popping the door open. He drew his bag out and rested it on his knee, then dug through it for Kurt's clothes. He shoved the bag back into his locker, turning around and suddenly seeing a starch white face in the window of the dance room.

All of Blaine's blood drained to the center of his stomach, and even though he knew Karofsky was around, seeing his face there startled him into dropping everything in his hands to the floor, including his phone.

A smile curved Karofsky's lips at the sight of his fear, something he obviously got pleasure off of, and he abruptly lifted his arm, blood dribbling down it from his cut hand. He lifted his other hand and smacked it to the window, showing off the blood and pieces of skin underneath his fingernails.

_He's making fun of me,_ Blaine realized, his own fingers curling into his scarred palms.

Suddenly, Karofsky smacked his bloody hand to the window, causing Blaine to jump, and he smeared his blood down the glass. Blaine almost threw up. Karofsky grinned and peeled his hand away, then used his other fingers to start doodling in the blood. Blaine turned his head, but a few moments passed and Karofsky smacked the glass again.

Blaine hesitantly turned, not in the least bit curious as to what Karofsky might have done with the blood. A backwards message was written, obviously from Karofsky being too stupid to write it so Blaine could read it, but Blaine slowly approached the door which Karofsky was perched behind, and he scraped his nails over the letters.

Suddenly, the message was very clear to him after a minute of flipping the letters around.

_I'll kill him._

Blaine did what he thought was the smartest thing to do at the time.

He ran to Kurt.


	41. Heroes

Author's note: Hey, readers! I wrote this one all in two days just for you guys! Now my fingers hurt and I'm exhausted but the Klaine fluffiness was worth it. So, this chapter contains another trigger, and you probably all guessed that it's a rape scene. I did write this one out in detail so for those of you who aren't comfortable... don't read. That's all I have to say except that there is some Klaine fluffiness in here if you look really hard for it :) This chapter is dedicated to JMarieAllenPoe, who I'm sure is ready to kill me if I ask her one more question about my story :) Also, I'd like to thank my new readers who have alerted and favorited my story! You guys keep me going in this depressing Kleak-up time! Let's just hope for the best that Klaine gets back together soon! Luckily, today I saw on Youtube a preview of Klaine singing White Christmas (their voices were so magical) while they were skating on an ice rink and THEY HELD HANDS. THERE IS KLOPE (Klaine and hope) I really need to get a Klaine portmanteau dictionary...

Disclaimer: No amount of writing Klaine will ever mean that I own Klaine. Or Glee. Or Pavarotti, who is such an awesome bird.

P.S. Just figured out why Blaine calls himself Nightbird... Pavarotti... Way to go, Blaine. NIGHTBIRD ON, KLAINERS!

* * *

Blaine grazed his oval nail over the lip of his transparent glass, and a dewy pearl of water collected in the center of it. He watched it for a moment, turning his finger this way and that and studying it quiver and pull in five different directions at once, before he flicked it off with his index finger. He took one more look at his glass of tea, and to avoid having to put in any comments about whatever football team Finn was jabbering about he lifted the glass to his lips and drank heavily from it. Maybe he wasn't just trying to distract himself, though. He was thirsty as hell from the performance, and every time he thought about what was going to come later that night his mouth would completely dry out. And Kurt's pretty little face didn't help, either, as whenever he glanced down at it, his mouth watered for a taste.

He just couldn't help himself when it came to Kurt.

Carole, after their orders had been taken which forced Finn to shut up about football—Blaine sticking with what he could barely stomach, a salad, and Kurt the same except his without chicken—bumped her son on the arm and nodded at Kurt, "Sweetie, you know, you've never given me a chance to talk to Kurt."

Finn's face sparked with a sudden realization, and his mouth formed a perfect _o,_ "Right! I totally forgot. Kurt, this is my mom, Carole. Mom, this is Kurt. Blaine, you know my mom."

While Blaine barely nodded, Kurt grinned and stretched his arm out to drape his hand against Carole's, "It's a pleasure, Mrs. Hudson."

Carole smirked from ear to ear and tried to shake Kurt's hand, much to his discomfort as his body suddenly stiffened against Blaine's. The second she clasped Kurt's hand he started to pull back, but decided to leave his hand there as to not offend her and her bold, American traditions. "Please, call me Carole. And the honor's all mine. What's a woman like me to do in a famous, French celebrity's presence like you?"

She smiled at her own tidbit of a joke, but Kurt obviously didn't get her humor from the look on his face.

Rachel, who couldn't keep her mouth shut for more than ten minutes, leaned across the table as if that would make her more in the center of attention and put in, "No, really, Kurt. Call her Carole. She's just so friendly with everyone that by the second week of knowing her she was practically my second mom… since mine abandoned me to my gay dads."

No one made a move to comment on that, but Finn carefully smiled at the group, patted Rachel on the shoulder, glanced at Kurt and Blaine to see if they'd been offended, then hid himself behind the rim of his drink.

Burt, shuffling his hands around on the table, looked up from his lap and cleared his throat, "So, Finn," he arched his brows, "any good games on lately?"

Kurt leaned back in the booth, clearly disappointed at the route the conversation was taking—again.

Finn didn't notice, and if he did, he didn't care, "Oh, yeah. Yeah." There was a breath's pause in his words, and then he comprehended that he had to come up with his own game to highlight the stats from, "Jets and the Raiders. How about that?" His fingers fidgeted and laced together, then he threw his hands on his lap.

Burt took a second to rack his brain for that specific game, "Oh… yeah. Good game."

That was all they had to say about the matter, and once again the conversation slipped, so finally Kurt took his chance to wiggle and smile, "Has anyone read Patti LuPone's new book?"

Everyone looked at him the same way, like he'd abruptly started spewing out gibberish in French, which forced Blaine to step out of his comfortable silence and squeeze his boyfriend to his chest, "I have it on our dresser, babe. I've just been… too busy to get into it."

Kurt grinned appreciatively.

Carole blinked with a blank look on her face at Kurt, "Who's Patti LuPone?"

Kurt opened his mouth to explain his dream of being just like her later in life, a Broadway star with his name in lights, but Burt quickly waved him off before he could bore everyone—as in dreamless, uncultured Americans—with his Broadway nonsense, "Oh, she's just one of those singers that Kurt admires. Kurt, buddy, why don't we keep tonight on a topic we all can enjoy?" He immediately turned to Finn, "Finn, what do you think of me and you going out next Sunday to the big Bengals game?"

Finn's mouth dropped open and his lips twisted exultantly, the face of a guy who had just been told his wife gave birth to a bouncing, baby girl, "Are you serious? That's so awesome!"

Burt next looked to Blaine to satisfy him with the news, "You should come, too, Blaine. I know you spoke football in the past. You need out of the house for a while."

Blaine arched a single brow, simply toying with Burt, "And Kurt? Where would he be?"

The expression on Burt's face was nearly offensive, like he was remembering for the first time that night that he even had a son, "Oh," his brows scrunched at Kurt, who gazed hopefully at him, "Uh… I only got three tickets… for us guys. Kurt's never liked football. He complains all the time about the stirrup pants. Carole, if you want to do something with Kurt, like take him shopping—"

Blaine interrupted him before the rude cold-shoulder to Kurt could continue, "I'm sorry, Burt. I've already made plans with Kurt to take him shopping on Sunday. We'll both have to refuse your… offers."

Burt's eyes and mouth screwed up in disgust, "Really? I already paid for the ticket. Couldn't you take Kurt on Saturday—?"

"No." Blaine almost hissed, "Saturday, I agreed to watch the marathon of RENT with Kurt."

Burt still didn't understand, "A marathon? Kurt, I thought that was one musical. Why don't you just watch one with Blaine on Saturday then record the rest and marathon yourselves out another day? I'm sure you can give a little. Blaine's in need of some guy time."

Blaine, nursing his sweet tea again, linked his fingers through Kurt's under the table and squeezed to comfort him, "Kurt is a boy," he acknowledged, setting his drink down and snuggling closer to Kurt. "And I'm in no need of time away from him. Maybe Carole would rather go, instead. I'm happy staying with my original plans."

Burt watched both of them, but eventually relented, "Alright. I'll bring Carole."

Their conversation, even though it would have lapsed on its own, paused as the waiter returned with their dinners. From across the room, the glee club kids who had arrived then agreed not to bother them in their family time, just as Burt had wished, guffawed and erupted in giggles, but nothing tore the waiter's gaze from Kurt's small face. It was a different waiter than the last time they had been, right when they first became friends, and on the evening before the night they first made love, yet he was just as determined to meet Kurt's eyes and make him swoon.

He dished out the plates to everyone else blindly, and Rachel and Finn ended up having to switch plates. When he reached Kurt, however, he leaned across Blaine who thought about shoving his face into the table and breaking his pretty-boy nose, and he smiled as he set the salad in front of him, "Can I get a dessert started in the oven for you?"

Kurt was oblivious to the flirting, but he nipped his bottom lip as though deliberating the proposition. He finally lifted a finger when an idea came upon him, "Do you have cheesecake tonight?"

His thin lips slowly crept into a smile, "Anytime for you. Can I get you a refill on your drink? Or another drink? A margarita? It's on me."

His face-plant with the table wasn't sounding too bad right about then.

As innocent as ever, Kurt remained completely diverted from the flirting, his eyes staring at his drink, then he shook his head, "No, thank you, I think I'm okay with my drink. But can we get two cheesecakes?" Kurt looked at Blaine for confirmation, who accepted with the slightest of nods and wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders as reward for considering him, "_Oui, _my boyfriend will take one of those."

Blaine thought the waiter might break down and sob at Kurt's knees for nonchalantly throwing _boyfriend_ out there. His bottom lip trembled, and his nose flushed, and the sight of his breakdown dragged a bitter smile to Blaine's lips as he kneaded Kurt's nape. Kurt mindlessly buried himself back in his menu, checking that the cheesecake might have strawberries or almonds on it, totally unaware that he'd just broken a heart.

The thought of it filled Blaine with great pleasure.

"Right," the waiter's voice cracked, but he straightened up and tried to hold on tight to what was left of his sharply offended manhood, "I'll get those out when you're finished."

Kurt barely glanced from his menu, just long enough to smile at the man, "_Merci._"

All of them sank into silence once more, the sound of forks scraping plates and water glasses scooting across the table the only noises coming from table nineteen. Blaine waited to touch his salad until Kurt started eating, which he didn't seem prepared to do as he continued scanning the menu for anything last minute he might desire. After a minute of watching him search, Blaine slipped his arm out from behind his back and he reached for a corner of the menu. "Kurt," Blaine censored, picking the menu from his hands and folding it, "eat. If you want something later you can look again."

Kurt flicked his eyes to his salad, at last surrendering and scooping a leaf onto his fork. He slipped it into his mouth and crunched down on it, then set the fork aside. Munching on the single piece of lettuce, Kurt turned his head to the table of glee club members, Mercedes, Sam, Puck, and Artie gathered around and laughing to themselves. Noticing they were being ogled, each of them turned their heads one after the other and took turns waving at Kurt. Kurt eagerly waved back, happy to be addressed by his other friends.

Rolling his eyes at Kurt's lack of interest in food—as if that was any shock—Blaine bent over his own salad and scooped a bite between his teeth. He chewed it thoroughly, desperate to keep the quiet. Maybe if everyone held their own to their food they could get through this without any more awkward pauses or subtle—and possibly not purposeful—insults.

But Blaine noticed when Carole leaned over to whisper in Burt's ear, then nodded toward Kurt when he still had his head turned.

Blaine knew what was coming, and he braced himself like he would for a semi coming head-on at him. "Kurt," he said again, but this time without food in mind, and he touched Kurt's shoulder. Kurt looked at him with his big, pretty eyes and Blaine had to look away so he didn't have to acknowledge that Kurt was about to be crying on his shoulder. "Kurt, you want to go to the bathroom?"

He needed to buy time, prepare him for this, kiss him on the lips to let him know he had a partner in this. Kurt's brows furrowed, and he touched his abdomen, "I don't… I don't think I need to go to the bathroom—"

"You should come with me." Blaine insisted, lunging out of his seat, but Burt was quicker to move, guessing that Blaine wanted to ditch the whole thing altogether, and wasn't actually letting Kurt face it.

"Blaine," Burt snapped, pointing to his seat, "If you need to go, go. Kurt's going to stay here if he doesn't have to."

_No… let me ready him for this. He's not ready! He's not, Burt!_

Blaine was trapped, though, and he wanted to cover his ears, close his eyes, not have to face that Burt was well and good to crush his son's heart, without even giving Blaine a chance to hold him in his arms beforehand and tell him how strong he was. But he needed to guard Kurt, too, so Blaine slowly twisted to face an un-expecting Kurt. He drew him to his chest, protecting him with his arms.

Safe against Blaine's heart, Kurt snuggled in and gazed at Carole as she sorted through the contents of her purse, then drew out a small, blue box. She placed it on the table and flexed her left hand, and that was about the second Blaine went into full panic mode.

There was a fucking ring box on the table.

Of course, he kept his emotions to himself, giving nothing away except a slight twitch of his mouth. He watched that ring box so steadily, not tearing his eyes from it or her wriggling fingers for a second.

Burt finally took his attention off Finn, football and reprimanding Kurt for his interests in Broadway, and he reached across the table for Kurt's hand. Kurt eyed it unquestioningly, which made it all the harder for Blaine to hold his boiling emotions inside—he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, cry or scream. At last, Kurt laid his hand in his dad's and he whispered so softly, "Dad?"

"Kurt." Burt repeated for probably the third time that night, "There's something that's been going on for a few months now, and I felt like we needed to surprise you… rather than tell you right away."

What a fucking lie.

Burt knew it, too, as he wouldn't dare flick his eyes to Blaine.

Burt's large, muscular hand closed around Kurt's soft, petite fingers, and he dragged his hand closer to him. "We're Hummel's, Kurt. We don't dwell on the past. We make ourselves futures."

Kurt smiled, clearly uncomfortable with the attention on him as he squirmed and flushed, "I know, Dad." He nodded, "You've told me that ever since…" He cut himself off, leaning closer to Blaine and cradling his cheek on his chest.

Burt bobbed his head and finished for him, "Since your mom died. And you've been so strong since then. I've messed up a lot, Kurt. Without your mom… I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Leaving you… was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, Kurt, but in the end I realized it was probably best for us both. In France, you found yourself and even without her around, you let your mom inspire you, rather than focusing on… those dark, last few moments we saw her. Right, bud?"

Kurt slid his hand to Burt's wrist and squeezed, then returned it to his hand.

Burt took the movement as a signal that he understood. Burt sighed, leaning back in his booth and scratching the top of his head, "_I_ made the mistake, Kurt. I let you grow up without either a mom or dad, and your aunt was good to you, but you were without most of the family you deserved. As your dad, I'd like to fix what the past did to our broken family."

"Dad," Kurt shook his head, still not connecting the dots. Blaine would have given anything if he had. "We were never broken. We always had each other, no matter how far you were away from me. Our small family is all that I could have asked for and, besides, we have Blaine now and I'm more than happy—"

"You need a mother, Kurt." Burt snapped, a tone too harshly than what Blaine would have rolled over like a loyal puppy for, "And a brother."

Kurt instantly recoiled into Blaine's chest, his hand slipping from his dad's and finding its way to Blaine's stomach. Blaine placed a hand over it to hold it there, "A what?" He breathed, his eyes huge with shock.

Burt reached for Carole's hand and the ring box, and Carole smiled so sweetly it almost made Blaine sick with rage and disgust at the two of them, "Kurt… I know we just met but I'm sure Blaine will tell you wonderful things about me—and my cooking—" she added that last with a cheery titter, her fingers still flexing in Burt's meaty hands, "—but, sweetie… your dad proposed to me about two weeks ago. And I accepted. Oh, Kurt, I'm sure we'll get along just fine, and that's why he wasn't worried about telling you earlier. Plus, he says you _love _surprises."

Burt grinned, flipping open the box. Finn watched the procedure with adoration, and Rachel was turned away to the other table of glee club members and waving her hands like a mad woman. "She's worn her ring a few times for sizing, but, since you weren't with us for the proposal like Finn was—after last week's Titans game—we wanted you to be there when she started wearing it."

Proudly, Carole curled her fingers around the ring once Burt slipped it on, and Finn whooped and reached across the table for a high-five from Kurt, "We're gonna be brothers, dude—er, Kurt!"

Kurt's hand was balled too tightly around his napkin to even twitch. It took a long time for Kurt react, other than wearing the expression of someone who had been terribly cheated and was still processing it, but when he did, his voice maintained that soft purr, no heavy emotion about it yet, "You've been engaged and haven't told me a word?"

That slapped the sorry-ass smiles from all their lips, and Burt tried, "Yeah… Aren't you excited? You even get rights to plan the wedding!"

Kurt swallowed thickly, and this time a flash of resentment struck his face, but he quickly dropped his eyes before his dad noticed it. It took another time for even a sound to slip out of him, and Blaine started to pull him tighter against him but Kurt pushed him back. "Blaine…" he whispered, his hands shaking as they slid into Blaine's jacket and clenched onto his sides.

Blaine bent, immediately alert and readied for anything, "Yes?" he smoothed Kurt's hair off his face, "What is it, angel? Anything."

Kurt's voice came out thick, and when his head lifted that time Blaine winced to find tears pooled in the corners of Kurt's eyes, but Kurt quickly rubbed them away with his sleeve. "Can you take me home?"

Burt caught that, and he reached for Kurt's arm as Blaine started to back out of the booth with Kurt's hand in his, "Now, Kurt. Don't be like that. Sit down and enjoy dinner with us—"

Although he was trying to control what little strings of his temper that were pleads and justifications and batting lashes between Burt and Carole away from snapping, Blaine helped Kurt out of the booth and snarled at those remaining—especially Burt, "He said he wants to go home. What, was he supposed to give some kind of warning that you hurt his feelings? Not giving warnings seems to run in this family, then."

"Blaine," Kurt softly cooed, touching his stomach and nudging him toward the exit. "That's enough. I'm ready to leave."

Blaine snatched Kurt's coat from the post the edge of the bench made and he draped it over Kurt's shoulders, then slung an arm around him. He directed his gaze at Finn and Rachel, who were uncomfortably shifting, "We'll see you guys Monday."

Finn awkwardly sucked his bottom lip in, then waved at Kurt, "Sorry, Kurt. Didn't know I should have told you sooner. They told me not to."

"It's okay, Finn," Kurt managed to get out through a weepy voice, "I'm sorry I ruined dinner. I just…" he struggled for the right excuse, "don't know what came over me."

Blaine rolled his eyes and shook his head, pissed that even then Burt wasn't speaking up. Not able to stand there for one more minute, Blaine took Kurt against him and guided him to the exit. With every step, Kurt's runny tears dripped faster and faster, and it became harder and harder for him to wipe them away in time, and by the time they pushed through the door and the night sky caused his damp cheeks to glow, all the more to his disadvantage, Kurt was nearly sobbing.

It killed Blaine not to hug Kurt against him at that very moment and press him up against a wall, hold him until he wept himself dry and heaved those breathy pants on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine had stroked his hair at least a half thousand times. However, people continuously passing them by shot them glares, as though Kurt had somehow insulted them with his tears, or maybe it was the way Blaine was holding him. Whatever the reasons, they were each pathetic but Blaine still liked the idea of privacy and not dealing with knowing those emotionless automatons might just catch Kurt's eye once of these times and make him feel totally wasted.

Half-carrying Kurt across the sidewalk, Blaine reached in his pocket and clicked his keys, and his car's lights flashed on. He popped open Kurt's passenger door and dropped him inside, then closed it behind him. He walked around the car and hopped into the driver's side, and slammed the door shut behind himself. Not bothering to start the car, as he wished to keep them in total darkness so no one could peep in on them and get a miniature soap opera, Blaine lunged across the console and he clasped Kurt's cheeks in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, rubbing his thumbs under Kurt's eyes.

Those three words struck inside of Kurt, and he threw a leg over the console and climbed into Blaine's lap. He curled himself up and Blaine drew him into the lee of his thighs, slowly rocking him back and forth as he cried against Blaine's heart. "They were all so h-happy," he squeaked, pausing to suck in a breath, "and I wasn't. Blaine, I'm so selfish. I'm s-so… selfish!"

Blaine blew out and pressed kisses to Kurt's hair, "Baby, you've never been selfish a day in your life—"

"Y-Yes, I have!" Kurt buried his face in Blaine's chest, hooking his arms under his knees and drawing them up to his face. "I'm selfish about _everything!_ I claim that it's okay if I don't get a song or two in glee club, but secretly I crave them, Blaine. I love the spotlight because I can feel my mom there, and I can feel you there. You're always right beside me when we sing, and it's the one place I feel safe just being with you, like no one's going to judge us! And _you!_ I'm especially selfish about you." Kurt lifted his head from Blaine's chest, his face pink and his hair limp and hanging over his forehead. Blaine thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Ever since the day we met I thought you were so perfect—and not just that you were popular or the star football player. Blaine, I loved you from the start and that's why I never hated you! You wronged me so many times and I wouldn't have spent any time on a man who made me feel so worthless, but I wanted you and now that I have you, I feel s-so guilty. You're miserable because of me but I can't let you go—"

Blaine stopped Kurt right as he caught his breath to spew out another few sentences of false assumptions, "Let me go?" he questioned sharply, squeezing Kurt, "Honey, you couldn't be more wrong. You're not letting me go—_ever._ All along I thought I was the one holding you captive, against your will, that I'd dragged you down with me to suffer from that psychopath who's just waiting for his next chance to get you alone." Blaine, still stuck in his rage from Burt, flipped Kurt around until he was pressed flat against the back of Blaine's seat, and Blaine was straddling his clamped legs. When Blaine stuck his face close to Kurt's, Kurt whimpered in his throat and twisted his neck, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Blaine, please," Kurt mewled, shivering as Blaine reached for the seat lever, "you're frightening me."

Blaine clamped onto the lever, and with a yank the seat sprang backwards, dumping Kurt flat on his back and splayed for Blaine. Blaine wedged his knee between Kurt's, and Kurt spread his very slowly, allowing Blaine to collapse between them. Laying his body flat on Kurt's, Blaine lapped a cool, wet spot of saliva onto Kurt's neck, and he growled deep in his throat, "Tell me what I want to hear, Kurt."

Kurt moaned, fresh tears springing from his eyes, "I don't know what that is!"

There was a ripping sound, and a cool breeze nudged Kurt's thigh, and with nothing but shock in his wide eyes and open mouth Kurt glanced down to find one pant leg on his Gucci capris torn in half. "_Blaine!_"

Blaine slid down Kurt's body, his lips drifting over Kurt's shirt clad stomach and arms, over his abdomen, missing the core of his body, and suddenly he was on his knees and clenching Kurt's bare leg. Bending over him, Blaine nuzzled a kiss into the place just above his knee, then bit in enough to leave a mark for a day or two. His nose bumped Kurt's skin, his tongue sticking out and grazing the soft inside of his thigh. "Tell me, Kurt," Blaine demanded against his skin, his hot breath sinking to Kurt's belly, "or the other side goes, too."

Kurt concentrated on his breathing as Blaine worked him over—_in, out, in, out_—but nothing seemed to jog his mind of what Blaine might want to hear. Suddenly, he blurted the one thing he thought best for the situation—any situation, at that matter, "I love you!"

Blaine smiled against his skin, and his licking briefly came to a stop, "You're cute," was all he said, and released Kurt's leg altogether.

The entire car went pen-drop silent, except for the puffing of Kurt's breath as he felt Blaine's hands sliding up his right leg, and then he closed his eyes again as there was another rip, the seams of his Gucci tearing apart. "What do I have left?" Blaine muttered, gliding his hands up Kurt's thigh and pinching the coverings over Kurt's torso, "A jacket… this little vest and a tee shirt?" His hands left Kurt's stomach and suddenly they were there at his feet, and he stroked Kurt's booties, "And your booties and socks."

For whatever reason, Kurt thought he might help him out, "And my underwear." He blurted, then his face scrunched as he wondered where that had come from.

Blaine huffed a single laugh, climbing back up Kurt's body and there he was at Kurt's buckle, toying with it, then he bent to lap his tongue firmly over Kurt's crotch. Kurt's hips bucked, his cock shooting to life as Blaine's breathy heat hit him strong enough to ruin him that second. "Don't worry, Kurt, I didn't forget your adorable, little undies."

The sound of that word coming from Blaine's mouth caused him to squirm and flush, his fingers curling and uncurling above his head. Blaine laughed again and covered Kurt's heavily padded crotch with his mouth, pressing kisses up and down his zipper. "Tell me?" this time it came out as a question, not as aggressive, and Kurt's toes curled at the vibrations of Blaine's voice against his secret parts.

Kurt's voice was breathy, and he stroked his fingers through Blaine's hair, "Tell you what?"

That seemed to win him over, the gentleness and ease in which Kurt had relaxed into, so Blaine arched back over him, his body hovering, and he bent to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead , "Tell me it's not your fault, Kurt." He suggested, licking the rim of Kurt's small ear, "Tell me you didn't ruin anything, because you didn't. Kurt, I… I need to be really honest with you. These past few days… I've known. Well… I've known, from what Burt was telling me, that he was dating." Kurt's eyes widened slightly, so Blaine cut him off from jumping to conclusions, "I didn't tell you because I wanted him to man up and talk to _you_ about it, not have me tell you. Had I… known he would do this I never would have put you through it. So, don't you ever tell me you're making me miserable, because _I'm _the one who makes the mistakes, not you."

"Blaine, you didn't know," Kurt shook his head, "You didn't know any of this would happen. You were here for me when I needed you, even if you knew I'd be a complete wreck after finding out. I'm not upset with you. But… I had every right to assume I've made you miserable."

Blaine's brows furrowed, and giving up his plan of seduction when Kurt truly just needed _him,_ which he was still adjusting to after so long of relationships being only sex and no love, he laid down beside Kurt on the seat, their shoulders brushing and nearly pushing each other off the seat until Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt, "Why?"

Kurt curled onto his side and draped a leg over Blaine's, his hand crawling to Blaine's stomach and drifting up his shirt so he could run his fingers over Blaine's abs, "Because… you have been lately. Blaine, we haven't had sex since you came out, and we don't talk much anymore. I miss you so much and those few seconds we have together… you're either getting pulled away to talk to my dad or Santana or going places you won't tell me about, like that night at Scandals when you almost died, or I'm falling asleep because—because of Karofsky, because I'm going to those places late at night to find you half-dead." Blinking, Kurt flicked his eyes down Blaine's body and he whispered, "D-Do you still love me, Blaine? The way you used to?"

The accusation was like a slap to the face, but rather than handle it with force and a defensive bitterness that Kurt could even think that way, Blaine leaned closer to Kurt and reached for Kurt's hand to hold, "Do I still love you, Kurt?" he whispered, repeating the question in a much more obvious tone, "Kurt, look at me."

Kurt tilted his head up and Blaine found a tear dripping off his lashes, so he wiped it away, wishing he could bend down and kiss it away, but that would take bending them both in half and Blaine didn't want to move, not with Kurt resting against his heart so peacefully, "I'm selfish, too," he assured, "I'm… not innocent, Kurt. I've been used and you weren't my first and I've done… bad. When you met me, I was an ass. I probably still am, but the only reason I would Slushie you now would be to lick it off your skin, like you licked that chocolate cake off of mine." He paused to let Kurt giggle at that, his skin in his neck and cheeks flaming red, and, boy, did Blaine wish he could kiss his face at that moment. "I _should_ let you go, Kurt. There are so many moments when I think I can, when we're apart or you're sleeping in my arms that I think I can just slip away and let time heal the wound left in your heart. But I'm too selfish for that. I wouldn't be able to stay away from you for a _day._ And I know that you need me. So, let's be selfish together, and keep each other."

Kurt seemed almost satisfied by his response, but there was still something lacking in his eyes as he curled into Blaine and appeared to be dozing off. Blaine stroked his jaw and murmured, "What's bothering you, little love? I'll give you anything to make you happy."

Kurt purred and nestled even deeper, if that was possible, "Your heart," he whispered, and in response his heart skipped a beat, then thundered faster than it should have. Blaine was afraid it might stir him, actually.

Lost for words that he actually had such a beauty in his arms and wanting his love, Blaine mumbled the one thing that made sense, that would always make sense, "I love you, Kurt."

A smile tugged at Kurt's lips, "I like the beat of your heart, Blaine. _Le battement de votre coeur est beau, _Blaine."

Blaine only made out a couple of words of that, but he knew that it must have been good, so he whispered, "Thank you."

The beating of his heart was Kurt's lullaby.

* * *

Kurt wriggled underneath the blankets Blaine had draped over him after laying him down in his cozy bed, and he scooted Pavarotti closer to his hip. After a moment of bundling blankets and sheets around his tiny, snoozing bird, Kurt startled at the sound of Blaine's heavy shoes on the floor. He glanced up to the bathroom where Blaine was stepping out, and it was like a slap to the face to find him completely dressed, as if he was going back out. Kurt watched him sigh heavily and run his hands over his gelled hair, then head for the counter to collect his jingling car keys. He dropped them in his jacket pocket and paused to pull his phone out and flip it open.

Something on the screen upset him; it was clear from the way his already firm lips dropped into a frown, and Kurt longed to comfort him.

Unable to help himself as he wondered if Blaine was leaving him for the night, Kurt peeped quietly, "Blaine? Where are you going?"

Blaine seemed startled, his head jerking up and he screwed his face up at Kurt. His jumpiness settled as he stared at Kurt's tiny face, then he shook his head and wandered over to Kurt, "Why are you still up? You need to be asleep."

Kurt's eyes swelled with tears as he wondered if what they had talked about in the car meant anything to Blaine, "I'm tired of sleeping, Blaine. I want to be with you."

Blaine instantly lowered onto the edge of the bed, and he pulled Kurt into his arms. Kurt collapsed against Blaine, his fingers clenching Blaine's shirt like he'd never let go, "Shh…" Blaine soothed him and stroked his hair, "I'll be home soon. We still have RENT to look forward to, and your shopping spree—baby, please don't cry. I just need a few hours, then you can have me to yourself."

"Take me with you," Kurt pleaded immediately after Blaine promised him those things, "Wherever you're going… If it's the hospital o-or _anywhere._ Blaine, I want to come with you. Don't make me be away from you again."

If Kurt kept this up, Blaine was going to die. He squeezed Kurt and pressed kisses to his hair and ears, "Listen to me, baby—no, don't cry. Don't do that to me. I can't take you. I want you to be with me—always. I never want to be apart from you, but I can't take you to where I'm going now. You have to trust me… that this isn't about you. That this isn't me trying to distance myself."

Hugging Kurt to his chest, Blaine bent over the bed and laid Kurt flat, tucking the covers around him so he couldn't escape and try to pin himself onto Blaine again. Weepy tears dripped down Kurt's cheeks, and Blaine kissed them away, "I have to go, baby." He whispered in his ear, nipping the lobe so gently, "I… can't wait any longer. I'll be home… soon. You'll be alright on your own—you're so strong." Blaine pressed kisses to Kurt's puffy lips between the words, trying to convince Kurt of all of this, that where Blaine was going was okay, that he didn't need to worry.

How badly did he hate Karofsky in that moment, watching Kurt cry beneath him, wanting him near and not understanding why he couldn't be?

He wanted to rip his throat out and gag him with it.

A single tear dripped down Blaine's nose, and he nuzzled Kurt with an Eskimo kiss, "I'm sorry," was all he could manage as he stepped away from him, "I love you."

Kurt reached out a pitiful hand, shrugging the blankets off of himself as Blaine quickly paced away from the bed, knowing that if Kurt raced to him and burrowed himself against Blaine's chest that he wouldn't be able to resist.

Another text vibrated in his pocket, reminding Blaine of what he needed to do.

Kurt finally shoved the blankets away and tossed his legs off the bed, so Blaine did the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his entire life. He raised his voice at Kurt, his hands lifting to show that he wanted space, "Kurt, _stop!_ I don't want you touching me right now. Lay down and trust that I'll be home in a few hours. Don't you dare try to follow me, either."

Kurt plopped onto the bed, his small hands grasping the mattress, and Blaine immediately had to turn his back on Kurt to resist shattering into a thousand little pieces, his heart throbbing at the sight of Kurt's broken-hearted face.

He left without another word, Kurt throwing himself down into the pillows and crying himself into a mess without Blaine there to hold him—Blaine being the cause of the tears—ricocheting in his ear.

It was in that moment that Blaine realized the exact extent of how much he wanted Karofsky dead.

There was no end to it.

* * *

Blaine wandered through the hallways of his school, and he couldn't pinpoint the emotion inside of him. Despite the ire that had been boiling inside of him as he left his house and got his car, he felt so numb now. Like he couldn't feel anything at all. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, though. Seeing Kurt unwind into a total wreck in front of him had done something to him, screwed him up, and he never wanted to witness anything like that again.

Now he felt so cold, his fingers icy, his blood frozen over. He didn't feel like himself, and he almost didn't like it, but figured it was better to go into this without lunging at Karofsky's throat. Blaine knew he was just waiting for the right excuse to drop Blaine to the floor, hop into his car, and drive to Blaine's home to attack Kurt.

Blaine would die before he let Karofsky anywhere near Kurt.

He headed in the general direction of the dance room, thinking that maybe Karofsky was still in there. _What kind of pain am I going to endure?_ He wondered, not fearing it but not bouncing up and down about it, either. If anything, he just wanted Karofsky to finish quickly. Better to feel a thousand sharp stings at once then go home to Kurt than force Kurt to bear his own tears and agony alone for hours on end.

He also thought about Burt getting home before he did, and how Kurt might react to that. Blaine wanted to be there for him when he faced Burt and all his lying selfishness, and his nails touched his palms threateningly that he might not be home in time.

He knew he'd be scratching tonight, just not how much he would dig off or for what reasons. Coming home to a crying Kurt because Burt had rattled off more shit to him about him not boring his friends with his Broadway nonsense and to just deal with the fact that Burt was replacing his mom would definitely be one of those reasons, if it came down to that.

After a few minutes of walking and not coming across Karofsky, Blaine paused and started searching his pockets for his phone. He flipped it open and pressed a button, then held it to his ear. Within seconds, the ringing stopped and Karofsky picked up. "Where are you?" Blaine questioned just as he did not hours before. "I'm here."

Karofsky smiled into his answer, "I didn't notice, I was too busy listening to my own moaning while I masturbated over you—"

"Shut the fuck up," Blaine barked, not in the mood for his games, "You tell me where you are in the next three seconds or when I find you I will kick your ass."

He was still so amused by Blaine's temper, "Aren't we feisty tonight? I'm in the dance room again. Come in quietly. I just took a few pills and they gave me a bitch of a headache."

Blaine whipped around and started storming toward the dance room. Maybe he stomped a little. He wanted to do everything he could to cause Karofsky suffering. Karofsky huffed a laugh, and he muttered through the phone, "So, where's Kurt tonight?"

"Away from you," Blaine answered immediately, "that's all that matters."

"Ouch," Karofsky chuckled, as if that satisfied him as a response, "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to keep me from him. That's so sweet, Blaine, the way you protect him. It's just sad that all your efforts will go to waste one day."

Blaine froze, and he clenched his phone so tightly he heard a piece of the plastic crack. He loosened his grip, "You stay the fuck away from him—"

"I'm joking," Karofsky sighed in aggravation, "You doubt me so much."

"You broke our terms once."

"That's because the little _skank_ walked up the stairs, when I was expecting you. He caught me off guard, Blaine—"

"It was _our_ house!" Blaine paced himself faster, his strides becoming louder, "Don't put that on him when it was your fault. I'm doing as you say, so leave him alone."

Karofsky had nothing to say to that, so he switched subjects, "How was your dinner with Daddy?"

"None of your concern," was all Blaine said, and he snapped his phone shut.

Standing outside the dance room, Blaine licked his lips and shoved the door open, only to grunt as what felt like a thousand brick walls rammed him from the side. He stumbled toward a balancing bar and his hip smashed into it, knocking the wind out of him. Karofsky bent him over from behind and gripped onto his wrists, and he pinned those against his ass. With a harsh jerk, Karofsky pushed his arms up and Blaine winced as his shoulders cracked, but he didn't make a sound.

Karofsky took his hands away from his ass and hastily pulled them closer together with the brushing of a cloth against his skin. He tied the cloth off so tightly that Blaine's circulation cut off, then he pushed him over the balancing bar again. Bending at Blaine's knees, Karofsky lifted Blaine's right foot and swung it up onto the bar. He came into sight, finally, as he rounded the bar and tied Blaine's foot to it from the other side. He jerked the cloth snug, then reached for Blaine's thigh to stroke. "Hello, Blaine," he smirked at him, his eyes glowing with victory, "Let me remind you of something. _You _broke our deal, too. I told you to break your leg. You didn't."

Blaine snarled at him, "So, we're even. Happy?"

Karofsky walked back around the bar, and he grabbed onto Blaine's neck. Rolling it to the side, Karofsky bowed over him and bit into his skin, then lapped his tongue out. "Sweet, sexy Blaine." He laughed into Blaine's browned skin, "I will never be happy until you're in my arms once and for all. But this is good, too. I love having you at my will. Helpless, in a sense. I can do whatever I want to you. You are so beautiful… everything about you. Your legs, your body, your throat, even your ears. But especially your succulent ass." He reached down to squeeze Blaine's right cheek, and Blaine twitched. "You've been crying tonight. Who made you?"

Blaine smiled without humor, jerking away from Karofsky's mouth when he went in for another kiss to Blaine's neck, "The thought of coming here did."

"Joyful tears," Karofsky put in, pulling Blaine's neck back against his chest. Blaine turned his head so he didn't have to hear his heart, because he'd convinced himself for so long that he didn't have one. "You love me, Blaine. Admit it. Deep in your heart you know it's wrong… you being with Kurt. You should be with so much more, someone who can match you, cause your temper to flare up and then soothe it later. Kurt must bore you. All he has for you is that pretty, little face of his and those stupid stories about France and how he lives so much better of a life than you. If you came with me, you wouldn't have to feel so jealous or belittled. We'd both be Lima losers, Blaine."

"I don't love you," Blaine said without a doubt in his voice, and Karofsky smiled as he pressed kisses along Blaine's ear and sideburn.

"You know you do," Karofsky blew cool air in his ear, "because I excite you."

"You piss me off," Blaine admitted, and at that Karofsky jerked away. Obviously offended, Karofsky raised his hand and the next thing Blaine knew he was dangling off the balancing bar, his foot on the ground glided out from beneath him and his face toward the floor. The only thing holding him up was his twisted ankle still held captive by the cloth. Panting, Blaine pressed his tongue into his slapped cheek, the skin throbbing and most likely bruised. A second passed of testing the skin, and suddenly he tasted a rusted penny, his lip nicked on his tooth.

Karofsky knelt in front of him, jerking his chin so their eyes met directly, and he smiled as he stroked the blood on Blaine's lip, "How can someone love another person enough to suffer this way for them? I wouldn't. I'd sacrifice the bastard to whomever he pissed off. Won't you, Blaine? If you let me kill him, I'll let you go. You'll be free."

"You don't want that," Blaine snapped, biting Karofsky's finger when he kept stroking hard enough to open the wound more and draw more blood. Karofsky drew his hand away and licked his finger with the blood on it, then moaned, appeased. "You love that I'm yours. And as much as I hate you, I love Kurt. Nothing you can do will make me give him to you."

Karofsky took that as a challenge, and rose to his feet again, "We'll see about that. You'll be screaming for mercy by the time I'm done with you. Or if you're into that painful kind of thing… like I am… you'll be begging for it. Are you a masochist, Blaine?"

"No." Blaine flinched as Karofsky's hand stroked over the back of his thigh, all the way down to his knee.

"Poor baby," was all Karofsky said, and laughed deep in his throat. "I almost feel bad that you won't like this… but I do. I like watching you writhe and scream under my hands. It's what I masturbate about. It's so sexy, Blaine. You have no idea how badly it makes me want to hurt you. You mean you've never been urged to bring Kurt to orgasm then slap him across the face? It's so pleasuring, hearing that scream. Like… he trusted you all that time, only for you to show who's in charge."

Blaine didn't comment, not out of guilt that he'd secretly fantasized that way because he hadn't, but because a raw scream was tearing from his lips, instead. He wanted to stop, not give him that pleasure, but it was already coming from deep in his throat, and he couldn't shut himself up. Karofsky released his leg, and Blaine dropped, his head nearly at the floor as he gasped wildly, his leg shuddering.

"Does that hurt?" Karofsky questioned, then grabbed the front of Blaine's knee again.

"No!" Blaine kicked his leg, but Karofsky tightened his hand, "Karofsky, _stop!_ If you loved me, you would stop!"

Karofsky twisted his hands, "Tell me I can have Kurt," he demanded, but Blaine didn't say a word.

Karofsky straightened Blaine's leg out, and this time he forced the back of his knee toward the ceiling. Slowly pushing it the opposite way which it should have bent, Karofsky massaged the front of it and laughed as moans slipped from Blaine's lips. "Listen to yourself, Blaine. It's beautiful. _You're _beautiful."

There was a crunching sound of bones grinding, and tears leaked from Blaine's eyes. "Don't cry," Karofsky soothed him, reaching down to sweep away the tears with his finger. He zoned Karofsky out, a sharp ringing pounding in his head as Karofsky twisted his leg. His thigh clenched and his shin went lax, and he could tell it was about to snap and ruin his leg, when suddenly Karofsky released him and placed two hands on Blaine's shin.

He lifted one hand and balled up a fist, then the hand suddenly came back down and Blaine shouted as there was an unmistakable crack and a thousand needles punctured Blaine's leg inside and out. Karofsky let his leg go to hang limply and Blaine gritted his teeth, unable to show Karofsky his pain. A flame burst where the bone had been sliced apart.

"Karofsky," he pleaded, his voice thin, "let me go."

"No," was the only response he got, and he grunted when Karofsky put a knife against his ankle and sliced the cloth apart, not bothering with avoiding cutting Blaine's skin.

Blaine's body dropped to the ground like a heavy sack of shit and he curled in on himself, his veins pulsating. Once Karofsky thought him helpless, he knelt over Blaine and reached for his back, then loosened the tie enough so Blaine's hands could slip out. He was then aware of Karofsky stepping over him and heading to where he had a few items, and he snapped over his shoulder, "Get undressed. Now."

Blaine weakly fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, then decided that the shirt meant nothing to him and ripped it open. Buttons flew everywhere and Blaine only hoped that one hit Karofsky's asshole and got wedged up there permanently, and he peeled his shirt and jacket away. He pushed his jeans down his hips and was grateful he hadn't worn boxers, because those would have only hindered him, too, and before he even had a chance to carefully glide them over his broken leg Karofsky returned and ripped them off.

His broken leg got trapped in the pant leg so Karofsky shook it twice and it thumped back to the floor. Blaine released a sharp scream as what felt like a million pieces of glass stabbing him slashed through his leg. Once naked and exposed, Blaine reached to cover himself and glowered up at Karofsky, who didn't bother with his facial expression and kicked his side. "On your stomach, slut. If you start hollering I will gag you."

Blaine fidgeted to roll onto his stomach, and Karofsky took his hands back around to his ass and bound them once more. After that was finished, he spanked Blaine with what felt like a leather whip, "On your back."

Grimacing, Blaine pushed himself up onto his palms then fell onto his back, and he found Karofsky right above him with what Blaine had seen on many gay porn sites he'd researched to know about pleasurable positions he could take Kurt in. A vibrating dildo, he decided, noting the almost-identical resemblances between the dildo and a white boy's seven inch, virgin dick. "Mine's bigger, as you've seen," Karofsky pointed out, taking Blaine's good leg in his hand, "but this was all they had in such a short notice. Don't worry, you'll get mine soon enough."

That was it. Blaine threw up in his mouth, then coughed it out to the side.

Karofsky smiled at his suffering.

Draping Blaine's leg over his shoulder, Karofsky took his other and lifted it straight in the air, exposing his red, puckered hole and the length of his cock. Karofsky's mouth visibly watered, and he laid himself flat on Blaine's chest. He twisted Blaine's tilted head to look at his, and then a wet, cold pair of his lips crushed over his. Blaine grimaced and arched his body to push Karofsky slightly off him, and Karofsky took the message by jerking off of him.

"You don't like my kisses?" he cocked his head, his eyes wounded, but then something foul warped his mind and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Fine. But I'll give you something to like even less. And I won't let you whine about it this time." Karofsky reached behind him for another few pieces of dirty cloths that were covered in white specks, and Blaine realized he used those to clean himself up after masturbating. He immediately thought of the tie around his wrists and grimaced.

Karofsky jerked his head up from the floor and clawed at Blaine's bottom lip until his mouth opened, and he jammed one of the cloths inside. _Definitely _a come cloth. The sour taste of spoiled milk spilled into his mouth, as well as a starch, and he started to spit it out but Karofsky thought quicker and looped a cloth around his head to hold the gag cloth in place. Blaine swallowed around it, trying not to puke again.

He grabbed onto the vibrator next and switched it on to its lowest setting, the fake penis purring against his palm. Karofsky stared at Blaine straight in the eye and brought the dick up to his lips, sticking his tongue out and lapping it along the fake slit. "Mm…" he lowered it between Blaine's thighs, "Yours tastes much better. Want me to put it in?"

Blaine started to say _no_, but remembered at the last minute that he wouldn't be understood if he tried. He settled for silence, knowing Karofsky would do as he pleased, anyway.

Karofsky jabbed the dick forward and Blaine winced as the head pierced him. He was aware that he could adjust quickly, though, since Kurt's sex was about the same size. Working the dick inside of Blaine, Karofsky slid it forward until the tip brushed Blaine's prostate. Once it was fully in, Karofsky switched it up to the next level, and Blaine actually noticed the shuddering inside of his body. Even with the dick scraping his prostate, Blaine couldn't find the pleasure in the situation at all. It was just an uncomfortable, oily toy inside of him, shaking out its batteries. Blaine wondered how anyone could get themselves an erection out of the act, then thought that it might have something to do with Karofsky. With Karofsky, this wasn't sex—not the love he made with Kurt.

This was just rape from Karofsky, and that was why Blaine wasn't turned on.

Karofsky drew the toy back out with a slick sound, and he pressed the notch up two more spaces, leaving Blaine with only two more to go before it was at its highest level. The shaking was much more obvious now, and still just an odd feeling of vibrating in his ass, so Karofsky plunged it deeper and wiggled it against Blaine's prostate.

But, once again, Karofsky was there, and Karofsky's tongue had been on the toy, and Blaine was all too aware of both of these facts, so he still wasn't getting an erection.

It was starting to piss Karofsky off, and he drew the toy out completely. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped, hitting Blaine across the face with the leather whip in his other hand. "I want you to come, Blaine! So, come!"

He switched the toy to its highest setting and it looked like it was about to vibrate right out of Karofsky's hand. Karofsky bent over Blaine and with all his strength plunged it into Blaine's ass. The vibrating toy slammed into Blaine's prostate painfully, and Karofsky kept digging it deeper, plunging it harder. The violent vibrating burned the inside walls of his asshole, the toy scraping them every time it shook. Blaine bit down against his gag cloth, curling himself onto his side and trying to pull his legs down from Karofsky's shoulders.

"Not enough, huh?" Karofsky shouted above Blaine's muffled moaning and the buzzing of the toy, and he ripped it out of Blaine's ass. The entire dick was covered in a sheath of dark blood, and a trickle of it escaped from Blaine, running across his right ass cheek and onto the floor. "_You can't love Kurt this much, Blaine! Stop fucking fighting me!_"

Karofsky slapped Blaine with the whip again, this time hard enough to leave a red streak across his face, and with the dick he tossed that aside, as well. Drawing himself up onto his knees, Karofsky clenched Blaine's legs and spread them as far as they would go—and Blaine was sure he'd shocked Karofsky with his practiced flexibility. He positioned a balmy weight against Blaine's sore ass, ramming himself inside of Blaine with one tremendous push.

Blaine screamed so loudly he was afraid he'd wake someone in the next state up.

Karofsky didn't seem to care, forcing himself in harder and harder with every plunge, and Blaine's eyes watered as his asshole was stretched like it'd never been stretched before. "_Karofsky!_" Blaine begged, thrashing his head from side to side and trying to escape the burning tightness inside of him. He was so full, too full, and Karofsky wasn't _fitting—_"Karofsky, no!"

But Karofsky didn't understand him, because his gag cloth blocked his words and made everything slur together. He was helpless, and unless he gave up the one thing Karofsky wanted—besides control over Blaine—Karofsky would keep doing it. Suddenly, something burst inside of him and at first he thought Karofsky had ripped something, but then Karofsky suddenly stopped pounding and shuddered once before collapsing on top of him.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, breathing into Blaine's neck while tears trickled over Blaine's cheek again, then Karofsky moved again with the slowness of a snail. He blinked down at Blaine, bent to kiss his forehead and whispered in his ear, "Goodnight, Blaine. I'll always love you."

Sluggishly rising to his feet, Karofsky zipped his pants up and spun away, heading for the door and pushing through it.

Shaking on the floor as he was left alone, Blaine realized Karofsky was going to leave him bound and naked on the floor, and tears burst from his eyes. He needed to get help. Pulling his wrists apart, he tugged at them until he heard the ripping of cloth and suddenly his tie tore in half. He lifted his hands to his mouth and stared at the red marks against his wrists, quickly yanking off the tie around his mouth and the gag. He squirmed toward his jeans and checked each pocket, finding his phone in the back pocket.

Too weak to lift it to his ear, Blaine put it on speaker and pressed for his third speed dial. Within seconds, the phone clicked and Santana's soothing voice murmured, "Blaine? What is it?"

"Come pick me up," he whispered, his voice hoarse and thick with tears, "Santana… come… I'm at the school. I need—I need you… Don't tell Kurt… Don't tell Kurt…"

That was all he remembered before blackness overwhelmed and consumed him.

* * *

Santana swung her door open and her feet hit the ground, and she stepped out of her car. Shutting the door behind herself, Santana hugged her jacket to herself and strode up the remaining driveway to the Hummel's—and Blaine's—doorway. She stepped up to the door and briefly knocked, hoping that at eleven o'clock at night someone—if she got lucky, Kurt—would answer and she wouldn't be accused of trespassing in case she got caught walking in without any approval.

And, just as expected, no one answered.

"Dammit," she whispered to herself, trying the handle and pushing it all the way down. The door opened without a stutter of hesitation.

Submerged in a dark living room, Santana strode inside and clicked the door shut on her way in. It was a homely looking place, not anything fancy or overdone. Just the necessaries. It almost made her feel comfortable. She had no idea where Kurt and Blaine slept so she tried the first door she came across and found herself staring down into a nearly black basement. Probably not it, but a whiff of perfume and silks hit her, so that was why she stepped down.

Immediately, an alert twitter startled her into nearly falling onto her ass, but as she looked down the stairs she caught sight of a beady pair of eyes within a tiny, yellow bird staring up at her. The bird chirped again, and she held a finger to her lips. "Shush," she hissed, waving him away.

The bird surprisingly scampered off, disappearing into the darkness.

She stepped off the last stair and was highlighted by a streak of moonlight, and she glanced around the room. Pictures of Kurt, Blaine and that bird decorated the interior, them making kissy face at each other, Blaine pushing Kurt on a swing at a park, them hugging in glee club, Kurt's modeling frames, and a few of them as toddlers.

From the bed in the center of the room there was a mumbled sound and the shuffling of blankets, and Santana jerked her head that way. Curled up in the middle of the bed with a pillow hugged to his chest and that bird by his ear was Kurt, his cheeks flushed and lips parted, lashes fluttering as he slept. The pillow in his arms was damp with what she thought might have been tears, guessing by the slashes of silver highlighted against his cheeks.

The bird who had bugged her before suddenly stopped staring at her and nipped Kurt's ear lobe, twittering obnoxiously loudly. Kurt hummed lowly and rolled onto his stomach, so the bird hopped closer to him and twittered again, patting his feet on the pillow. Kurt still didn't stir, but the bird was relentless and hopped onto Kurt's shoulder, nipping a lock of hair across Kurt's forehead and yanking.

Kurt's eyes popped open at the rude awakening and it took him a moment to collect himself, and he slowly sat up while rubbing where Pavarotti had yanked. His first reaction was to frantically pat the pillows beside of him, as if searching for something, and Santana started to move forward when his eyes abruptly swelled with tears. He curled back into himself and hugged the pillow to his chest.

Santana pondered if Blaine's disappearance had anything to do with his crying, and she stepped up to the end of the bed, "Kurt," she whispered.

Kurt's eyes nearly popped out of his head, a small shriek slipping out of him. Santana rushed forward, "Kurt! It's me, 'Tana. Please, don't scream again."

"Santana?" Kurt blinked up at her through the darkness, clearly confused, "What are you doing here?"

Santana swallowed, watching him release the pillow, and that was when she realized he hadn't been holding the pillow for the comfort—a substitute for Blaine, but the picture he'd laid against it. It was one of Blaine alone, in a small frame, of him smiling up at the camera, his eyes glowing under the sunset which it had been taken. He looked beautiful in the picture, his hair slicked back and that goofy smile on his face while his eyes were so affectionate.

She distracted herself with what she needed to do, and she tugged on Kurt's arm, "Can you get dressed? My car's outside. Want me to meet you?"

Kurt slowly sat up, revealing that he was wearing one of Blaine's tee shirts and the sleeve had slipped off a pale shoulder. He rubbed his weepy, puffy eyes, "Why? What is it?"

"Kurt." She muttered, reaching for his hand, "Blaine is in the hospital. He's not… well."

* * *

Kurt lowered onto the edge of the hospital bed, his hand sliding to Blaine's thigh. Exhausted and needing to touch him, Kurt balled himself up beside Blaine's body, not wanting to jostle him but not wanting to leave him alone, either. Blaine muttered in his sleep and turned his head to the side, then the hospital room went silent.

It stayed that way for a time, until Santana flipped open Blaine's phone and scanned over something. "Kurt," she stood from her spot in the corner, wandering over to Kurt who slowly lifted himself, the imprints of Blaine's sheet against his cheek. "You might want to look at these. I know Blaine's trying to protect you from it… but I think it's time you knew the truth. All of it."

Kurt took the phone from her hand, flushing at the sudden power in his hands, "Oh… but, this is Blaine's phone. I couldn't look through it without his permission—"

"You need to see it." She returned to the corner but didn't sit down. Instead, she dragged the chair closer to him and plopped into it, kicking her feet out. "Kurt… How much do you know?"

Kurt ignored the phone, "I… Blaine's told me that he's been raped. And I saw what happened at Scandals."

"So, you know nothing," Santana assumed, cocking a brow. "Kurt… I don't want you thinking any of this is your fault… but for a long time Karofsky's been obsessed with Blaine and…" Santana gestured to the phone, then pulled a recording device to her pocket, "This is a lot like Blaine's lifeline. I've seen him listen to it so often, Kurt. You need to hear this to understand." Santana set the recorder on the edge of her chair and hit play, all while Kurt turned to the phone and flipped through Blaine's received messages.

_"I knew Kurt… It turns out I killed the fag… Do exactly as I say when I say it, and I'll let Kurt live."_

_"I'll do anything to keep him safe."_

Kurt clicked the tiny device off, and he handed the phone back to Santana like it burned his hand. His eyes flashed to the slumbering Blaine, and in his eyes she could see that he finally understood.

He understood just how much Blaine loved him.

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered to Blaine, touching his fingers to his lips then pressing them to Blaine's.

Blaine twitched at the brush of fingertips, and he moaned as he writhed to get closer to Kurt, "_Kurt…_"

Kurt smiled at the sight of Blaine curling up into a ball, his head coming to rest on Kurt's thigh, "Now it's your turn to say my name in your sleep."


	42. Everybody Talks

Author's note: New chapter! So, there's been a lot of dark intensity in these past few chapters, so there won't be for a while because I've really bored of writing Karofsky. He can only threaten so much before it starts to get old. As always, I'd like to thank my lovely readers, reviewers and those who favorite/alert this story. You guys have no idea how much you mean to me. And, as you've been expecting, here's a shout out to JMarieAllenPoe for being the most awesome unofficial Beta ever! Next order of business... I started a new poll because a few of you were asking for Kurt and Blaine's BDSM photoshoot pictures to come back, so I'm considering it and the poll gives suggestions/options about that. I don't have much to say about this chapter or the next few except there are more family issues hit on and Furt scenes! I hate Finn by himself or with Rachel (or any girl) because his relationships get so annoying, but I love him as Kurt's brother. So, Furt it is! Also, Regionals is coming up so song suggestions would be great! Review with any ideas or PM me!

P.S. How precious was the Klaine phonecall? You have no idea how freakin' hard I cried.

Disclaimer: Guess who owns Glee? Ryan Murphy! And I'm not him, so I'm not the owner.

* * *

"Okay… One more step…" Emerged from the top of the stairs early Saturday morning, a gentle, cooing voice humming from the prettiest of faces. "Almost there, Blaine."

Kurt clasped his hands to Blaine's sides as Blaine hauled himself up the stairs and into the kitchen, his heavy boot clunking the thin wood with each step. Letting go of one side, Kurt twisted the knob and the door cracked open, so Blaine shoved his shoulder into it and both of them spilled into the kitchen. Kurt instantly righted himself, not missing a beat as he guided Blaine to the kitchen table.

Helping Blaine into one of the chairs, Kurt ran his hands against Blaine's chest and bent to press a kiss to his forehead, but Blaine's eyes were already diverted to something else. "Do you want breakfast, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't answer him, completely zeroed in on what was across the table. His golden eyes turned nearly black and he tugged Kurt to his side, rather than having Kurt bending over him and displaying his backside, and he clamped an arm over Kurt's bottom. Confused, Kurt flashed a glance over his shoulder and a squeal almost escaped him at the sight of another body at the table. He started to curl into Blaine, recovering from his shock, but a friendly, noisy voice hollered at him before he had the chance, "Good morning, Kurt!" The voice next addressed Blaine, who didn't appear that pleased to hear it, "Hi, Blaine."

Kurt came out of his state of surprise, and he looked at Finn, "Hello."

Suddenly, Finn flushed when his eyes slid down Kurt's body and he diverted his gaze right as Blaine started nudging him toward the basement door. Blaine cleared his throat at Kurt, making it clear that something wasn't right, "Honey, you're, uh—" he nodded at Kurt's torso, and Kurt glanced down, not understanding what the two of them were implying.

Kurt turned a bright shade of strawberry when he remembered that all he'd worn to bed last night was one of Blaine's old shirts from when he was younger, and that it covered about two inches of his thighs. He immediately yanked the shirt down farther, "I'm sorry, Finn! I'll be back after I change into something decent!"

The two men remaining at the table watched Kurt scamper back down the stairs until his footsteps padding so gently against them hit the carpet and then went silent. Actually, just Blaine did that. Finn was still trying to keep his head in place and not ogle Kurt in such a revealing array. He could only guess that Blaine was waiting for him to take another peek to totally throw him out of his house.

Finn, not daring to look up until he got the okay, jumped when Blaine's guttural voice cracked against his ear, "What are you doing here?"

Finn finally lifted his gaze from his shirt, and he shrugged two shoulders, "I dunno. My mom drove me over here because she said she had stuff to do with Burt. Wedding planning, I guess."

"And you were required to come over for that?"

"She said something about brotherly bonding, too."

Blaine leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, resorting to silence as he thought over things. Finn watched his stubbly jaw clench and unclench, his brows furrowed and his golden eyes still a deep black. Uncomfortable with Blaine's alert but wearied eyes staring at him, judging him, Finn pointed to Blaine's cast, "How's your leg, dude? When'd you get out?"

"Late last night." Blaine said nothing about his leg, and Finn figured there was a reason why he didn't.

Kurt's bouncing feet on the stairs muted them once more, and both of them turned their heads this time to see Kurt, wrapped in a robe he was still fiddling around with to tie in the front and a chirpy bird on his shoulder, fly into the kitchen with flushed cheeks and a huge smile. It always amazed Finn to see Kurt and Blaine snuggle up together, Kurt the ecstatic, cheerful one except for those rare occasions—like the dinner at Breadstix—and Blaine usually brooding or frowning at someone or something. They were an unusual couple, Finn gave them that.

One of the ties slipped out of Kurt's grip and swung around behind him, so the smile dropped from his lips as he went hunting for it. Blaine patted his good knee for Kurt to sit, and Kurt sprang over to him and glanced once at Finn to assure that perching in Blaine's lap wouldn't be too bold for him. "Kurt," Blaine patted again, trying to tug on Kurt's wrist, "just because he's here doesn't mean we have to act any less normal. Come, sit down on my lap."

Kurt lowered onto Blaine's thigh, careful not to bump his injured leg, and Blaine pulled Kurt's ties in place then knotted them twice so they wouldn't unravel. Once he finished, Blaine tapped Kurt's bottom, "There you go, sweetheart."

Kurt launched to his feet in seconds, twirling and admiring Blaine's handiwork when his robe didn't fly open, and he danced past the two men at the table. He bent to collect a few pots and pans from the cupboards below the counter, then set up his collection by the stove. "Finn, would you like some breakfast?"

Finn's face scrunched and he looked over what Kurt was doing, "Uh… sure. Thanks, Kurt. Hey, do you guys have any coffee?"

Blaine started moving toward the edge of his chair, wincing in the process at a sharp clench in his knee and lower in his shin, "Yeah. I'll make us both cups." When Finn anxiously flashed his eyes toward a humming Kurt as he pressed buttons to heat the stove, Blaine shook his head and explained why he'd left Kurt out, "Kurt doesn't drink it as much."

"Hm?" Kurt, who must have tuned them out in favor of his own musical voice, glanced over shoulder and his face blanched as white as snow, "Blaine, don't get up!"

"_Kurt,_" Blaine's nose wrinkled in distaste when Kurt left the stove and pushed Blaine against the back of his chair, "I'm not helpless."

Kurt slipped two fingers under Blaine's chin and stroked. Once again, Finn turned his head from yet another display he knew he wasn't supposed to watch. "No, but your leg is very important to me. I don't want you hurting yourself any worse. Please, just… let me take care of you."

Hearing Kurt's sweet, soft voice purring in his ear and his desire for Blaine to relax, if only for one day, Blaine melted like goo in Kurt's hands and relented, "Fine. But tomorrow I need to put myself to use or else I'll go mad. Besides, I agreed to take you shopping."

"That depends on how you're feeling. There are plenty of other days to go shopping. There's only one of you and I don't need you putting yourself through agony for me." Kurt dropped the matter at that and pressed a kiss to Blaine's forehead, then glanced at Finn, "_Pardon,_ I missed what you wanted. What was it?"

"Uh…" Finn diverted his gaze uncomfortably, "coffee. But, it's okay, Kurt. You don't have to… you know… if it's extra work."

Kurt rolled his eyes, swishing over to the coffee machine in the corner and pouring a few scoops of coffee grinds into a filter, "No trouble at all," he promised, "Besides, I'm used to making it. Blaine loves drinking it."

"Alright," Finn slumped over himself and his fingers clenched in his lap.

Blaine noticed the awkwardness but chose to ignore it, knowing the reason for it without having to ask, so instead he switched subjects, "Is Burt still taking you to that game?"

Finn cocked a shoulder, "That seems to be the plan. Look… Blaine… I'm really sorry."

One brow slipped toward his hairline, "For?"

Wrinkling the corners of his eyes, Finn cleared his throat and flicked his eyes to Kurt, who was observing them from his position at the sink, "For… you know… taking time away from you guys and Burt. H-He offered for you to come, Blaine, but I get why you didn't accept. I don't want to intrude, but Burt's a really cool guy and I've never had a dad around."

Kurt immediately turned away, overwhelmed by some unreadable emotion. Blaine kept his face steady, though he couldn't help but briefly wince at Finn's misjudgment of the situation. "Finn… it's not… you."

Finn's face screwed up, making it evident he hadn't spent any time thinking up other theories, "It's not me?"

"No." Blaine planned to leave it at that, yet Finn's expression didn't change, like he wanted something more, possibly a reason why Blaine and Kurt got so upset last night, "It's nothing you've done."

"Oh." Finn blinked, "Well… okay." Needing an escape from the two of them, Finn muttered, "Um… Blaine, I can't remember where the bathroom is here. Can you show me?"

Kurt shot a warning glance over his shoulder at Blaine, "Blaine—"

Blaine scooted out of his chair and leaned his weight on the table, "Kurt, I'm fine. It's just a broken leg." Lumbering toward the living room with an extreme limp, Blaine pushed himself against the door, grunting at the sharp scream of pain that shot through his shin when he twisted it too far. Kurt gasped and started to whip around to face him.

"Blaine." he said again, his eyes desperate.

Realizing the agony he was putting the two of them through so that he could take a piss, Finn hurried forward and looped an arm around Blaine. "Sorry," he flinched, helping Blaine through the door.

Blaine ignored his fumbling and muttering apologies for the most part, heaving Finn through the living room. He pointed toward the hallway, "It's right down there."

Finn's lips twisted into a crooked smile, "Thanks, Blaine." He clapped Blaine's left shoulder and a hiss escaped him at the searing throb of a bruise where Karofsky had grabbed him too tightly, and Finn smacked a hand to his lips. "I'm so sorry! I'm gonna…" he pointed to the hallway, his eyes huge and face flushed as he stumbled away.

Blaine shook his head, placing his hands on the wall closest to him and tugging himself along until someone cleared his throat. "Good morning, Blaine."

He cocked his head at the two forms on the couch, Burt slouched and holding Carole to his chest, the latter scrutinizing him like he had a knife behind his back. She hugged herself closer to Burt, her thin lips and dilated pupils betraying her distrust of Blaine. After last night's outburst, he didn't blame her. It wasn't like he trusted himself, either. "Hello," was all he got out, then returned to pulling himself along the wall.

"Blaine," Burt demanded, needing Blaine's attention, "you wouldn't happen to be able to disconnect a TV then rewire it somewhere else, would you?"

"I'm good with electronics." Blaine paused a few seconds, wondering if he'd get a reason why, but when Burt didn't speak up again, Blaine fully turned and eyeballed him. "Why are you asking me that? What's wrong with the TV?"

Burt dropped his eyes to the laptop on the coffee table, and he scrolled down. Leaning forward, Carole pointed at something on the screen with concerned eyes and Burt nodded. She whispered something to him, her eyes flicking to Blaine, and Burt seemed to agree, "…yeah." He muttered, the first word Blaine caught of what he was grumbling under his breath, "Finn would like that one."

Carole's eyes suddenly popped, and she enthusiastically gestured to another interest of hers, "…would love that! Wouldn't he? Look at that closet space, Burt!"

Burt started to bob his head in agreement, but his nose scrunched in distaste as he looked over something else, "No…" some words were lost on Blaine in the middle, but he did catch a pointing finger directed at him, "…hate that. He's too private for the connector door between his and Finn's."

Carole moodily sighed and lifted her gaze, then realized that Blaine was trying to listen in on them, "Oh… that's all, Blaine. You can go in and get some breakfast. You look half starved!"

Blaine resisted snarling at her that this was his territory, and that he didn't need permission to do _anything._ Whipping away from her, Blaine clung to the walls and paced himself into the kitchen. He smacked the door open and apparently startled Kurt, who nearly dropped the plate of food he'd been carrying to the table. His widened eyes darted to Blaine, and he instantly relaxed and bent to place the plate in the middle of the table. "Breakfast is about ready." Kurt babbled, spinning away and checking on a pan of scrambled eggs, "How many biscuits do you think Finn will want?"

Blaine snuck into his chair and stared at the plate of toast, smothered in the perfect amount of jam, just as Kurt knew he liked. The popping of eggs and the mouth-watering aromas wafting from the oven caused him to drool with hunger, and it was the first time he noticed how hungry he was. _So hungry…_

Nearly forgetting about what he'd just heard from Carole and Burt, Blaine devoured half a piece of bread in one bite and chewed quickly. He didn't wait to even finish crumbling the bread, just swallowed, wincing at the crustiness scraping his throat. It was just _so good,_ though, and he wanted to eat every bite—

"Blaine," someone rubbed his shoulder, and he jerked upright, startled out of his adrenaline hunger for food. His face snapped up to Kurt's, the latter perturbed as Blaine stuffed his face, his cheeks full, "slow down. You'll choke yourself."

Blaine swallowed thickly, then reached for his coffee to ease the bread down, "I-I… guess I'm hungry."

Kurt placed a hand over his forehead, much to his surprise, and he clicked his tongue in distaste, "Are you feeling alright, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't know how to answer him, or what Kurt was referring to. If his guessing was anywhere near the mark, though, he supposed it'd be best to keep his mouth shut. Kurt continued watching him with those same leery eyes for a moment longer, then he shook his head and sauntered away, "Would you like some eggs, Blaine? I made plenty for you and Finn."

Again, Blaine hadn't a clue what to say. The longer the toast sat in his stomach, the more Blaine wanted to gag. It wasn't that Kurt was a bad cook—not in the least. But he felt sick, weak, and he wasn't sure if he was going to puke, faint or do a combination of both. He needed something in his empty stomach, though. Medicine, maybe. Medicine didn't sound bad, seeing as his entire body ached from head to toe.

But there was something with his heart and in his mind that was in his illness, too, a dizziness in his head and a dryness in his mouth every time he glanced Kurt's way. He knew Kurt wasn't making him physically sick. This was the same thing he felt as when he was poised over a naked Kurt, stretched under him and whining against his lips. And the way he felt when he had Kurt pinned against the wall of the shower. The way he felt in the hospital last night, hearing Kurt's melodic voice in his ear, comforting him, soothing him, taking him away from Karofsky…

He guessed he was hungry for Kurt.

_So hungry…_

* * *

"So, he was just there?" Santana scoffed, leaning on the front of the couch and crossing her legs, "Are you kidding me? What was Pillsbury Dough Turd doing at your house?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes at the blunt insult, and he plopped down on the pillow beside her and placed the popcorn bowl between them, "Santana, be nice. Finn's a good guy. And he's not as… heavy… as everyone is making him out to be. I'm bigger than he is!"

Santana smiled and plucked a piece of popcorn from the top, "Blaine, you are so gay sometimes I wonder how I ever thought you were straight. Besides, you're a hobbit so your stinted growth spurt makes up for the weight." At Blaine's screwed up face, Santana took the opportunity upon herself to add injury to insult and grasped a handful of popcorn. She flung it in his face and he batted it away, reflexes like a cat. "And, let's face it, Blaine, Finn is definitely a hamburglar."

Blaine frowned and crossed his arms, "Can we… _not_ talk about the amount of carbs in Finn's body right now? I'm still sick after getting a whiff of Brittany's bedroom."

"Hey!" Santana whacked his arm, "At least our room doesn't smell like male semen! And you didn't have to follow me in there, either!"

Jutting out his jaws, Blaine bitterly spat, "_My _room smells like silks and Coach while yours smells like the inside of a—"

"Hush!" Kurt's head popped out of the kitchen, and he waved a finger through the air, "I hear you both bickering all the way in here! The next insult from either of you and I'm turning on a marathon of Jersey Shore and we'll spend the night watching that."

Santana irritably stuffed her face with popcorn and Blaine twiddled with a corner of the pillow behind his back, until Santana suddenly chewed and swallowed harshly. She arched a brow at him, "Jersey Shore?"

Blaine twitched a shoulder, clearing his throat, "He has a thing for Snooki."

Opening her mouth, Santana gaped at him for a moment, switched her eyes to the kitchen, then looked back at him, but had absolutely nothing to say for once. Or maybe she did and chose not to blurt it in fear of hurting Kurt's feelings. Instead, she coolly stretched her legs out and massaged her knees, "So, tell me what Finn wanted. If you won't tell me, I'll ask Kurt. He'll gossip anything if you offer him cheesecake."

That time, Blaine was speechless. He shook the implication that his boyfriend would go easy in the mouth for food out of his mind, and he muttered, "Burt's engaged to Finn's mom, Carole."

Blaine was relieved when Santana didn't freak out, as Rachel or Tina or even Sam might have. She pursed her lips, still rubbing her knees, then sat back up and looked at him, "And?"

"And what?"

She rolled her eyes, "How do you feel about that, dummy? You know, if you don't like the situation you can move in to Britt's with me. I'd offer for you to bring Kurt but I'm afraid he'd have the place smelling like a fruit basket within a week."

Blaine took his turn to roll his eyes, "Santana," he warned, but sighed and shook his head, "I don't know. I guess I'm okay with it. I'm glad to have Finn back. I just worry… that maybe Burt and Carole won't want me there. I'm not a part of their family."

"Burt let you move in, though," Santana's brows furrowed and she curled her legs under her, twisting to face him, "What's up, Blaine?"

"This morning… when Carole was visiting… she looked at me like I was… so horrible. And lately Burt and I have been fighting—" Blaine hung his head and he stroked the nape of his neck, "I feel like I'm losing the best thing that's ever happened to me. And if I can't stay with Kurt, I might have to go to California to my brother's beach house. I don't have a job to support myself here or—"

"I thought Carole thought of you as, like, a second son back…" she made a swirling motion with her hand, "then. And Burt loves you, Blaine. You know that. And even if you got kicked out, you'd come live with me, wouldn't you?"

"I can't spend my teenage years mooching off people, San," Blaine closed his eyes and pushed his forehead into her arm, "I'd like to do something for myself. Maybe go to college one day, or get involved in the entertainment business. I need to get out of Lima one day."

"And about Carole and Burt?" Santana urged. "Do they have reason to kick you out?"

"I'm not the boy Carole remembers," was his excuse, "and I never was the man Burt expected me to be. He expected me to protect Kurt. All I've done is put him in danger. Besides, I haven't been… the best future son-in-law to him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Burt wouldn't man up and talk to Kurt about getting engaged. It's been… a wreck ever since I spoke up about it and accused him of… fearing his gay son."

Again, Santana didn't freak out, but she stroked his gelled hair, "Do you regret it?"

Blaine squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and he bit his bottom lip, "No. I regret most of my past, but defending Kurt is one thing I can't ever feel guilty about."

Hearing the soft pat of Kurt's feet on the carpet, Blaine lifted his head and blinked as Kurt knelt down in front of them, reaching for the remote and holding his arm out for Pavarotti to climb onto, the bird who had absolutely insisted on joining them. Unaware that he'd been the subject of their sobering conversation only a minute ago, Kurt grinned fondly, "Santana, I must thank you for letting the two of us intrude and watch RENT in your house—or… Brittany's. My dad and Finn had the TV occupied until the game this evening and I didn't want to bother them to leave the room."

"I'm just glad for the company," she leaned against Blaine as Blaine spread his thighs, bending and hooking a thumb in the waist of Kurt's frayed shorts. He yanked Kurt to his chest and lassoed Kurt in his arms, a tranquility calming the uncertainty in Blaine's eyes. They faded from black to gold when Kurt didn't struggle to escape, and Blaine pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"So, how is Brittany, Santana?" Kurt rattled off, flipping through the channels in hunt of the marathon.

Santana fished through the bowl of popcorn for a buttery piece, and she popped it into her mouth, "She's getting better every day. Thanks, Kurt."

His brows arched, "And the babe?"

That caused Santana pause, and she brushed her hair to one side, "The baby is… fine. They have to give Britt injections every day to keep it alive, and they don't know if they'll be able to save it… you know… once Britt goes into labor. The drugs Karofsky gave her forced her womb to contract, and they think the baby is getting too big. At this rate, they're guessing the baby will grow too large and cause the womb to swell, and the placenta will detach and the baby might suffocate."

Blaine stared at Santana with wide eyes, "But, couldn't they put Brittany under a Caesarean section?"

"Not if she doesn't wake up from the coma," Santana muttered, her dark eyes glassing over, "She would lose too much blood and it would probably kill them both. Blaine, whatever the case, the doctors have admitted that there's less than a ten percent chance that the baby would survive. He'd have to be one hell of a hard-ass to get through this, and so will Brittany."

Lifting one of his arms from Kurt's shoulder, Blaine wrapped it around Santana and squeezed, "Well… no matter what happens, San, you know I'll always be here for you and the babe. I haven't changed my mind about that."

"Me, too," Kurt wriggled, throwing a gentle smile at her, "And… if the baby does… live… Blaine and I have our own baby coming. I'd like them to know each other, and that way we could all stay close, even after graduation." He thought for a moment, then corrected himself, "Well, Blaine and I are a given. We'll always be close. But you aren't, Santana."

"No," she shook her head, reaching out her pinkie, "I agree. The three of us need to stay close."

Blaine linked his smallest finger through Santana's, then snatched Kurt's in his other while Santana took Kurt's left hand, and they shook on it. "Friends," Blaine stated, pleased at the vibration of the word on his tongue. It'd been so long since he'd had true friends like Kurt and Santana, and he didn't ever want to lose it.

"Best friends," Kurt corrected with a smile, leaning in and touching his lips to Blaine's cheek.

Santana suddenly pulled away from the two of them, and she smiled as she rose to her feet, "Guess what I have to toast to that? Champagne!"

She sashayed off to the kitchen, leaving Kurt and Blaine to themselves while she poured the wine glasses. Curling himself into Blaine, Kurt ducked his head under Blaine's chin and purred, "I love you, Blaine. You're the greatest best friend I ever could have asked for."

Blaine smirked and bundled Kurt up, "I love you, too," he whispered, tilting his head to nudge his lips into Kurt's. Kurt responded by opening his mouth on Blaine's and flicking his tongue across Blaine's top lip. "We're always going to be together, Kurt. I promise."

* * *

"Blaine? What are you doing?"

Blaine glanced up from Kurt's limp body, and he stepped over a soda can as he carried Kurt—who had fallen asleep on him—over to the couch. Each step stung worse than the last, and he almost thought he'd cave to his knees before he even got there, but luckily he was able to bend and lay Kurt against the cushions without collapsing. He grunted and threw himself down by Kurt's feet, needing to take the weight off his foot. "He fell asleep during the last one of the marathon. Where are you planning on sleeping?"

"On the floor," Santana muttered, strutting past him and bending to sweep aside the leftover snacks, "Are you sure you don't want the couch? Your leg—"

"My leg will be fine," Blaine grumbled, and he took a thin blanket from her when she handed it to him. He draped it over Kurt's body then lifted his head and tucked a throw pillow under it. Kurt immediately curled himself into a small ball and whispered something incoherent that sounded a little like Blaine's name.

Pavarotti, who had taken to perching on top of the TV, hopped down and waddled across the carpet in favor of snoozing with Kurt. Blaine bent to pick him up and set him on top of Kurt's blanket, and watched while he nosed his way under it.

Blaine chose to drop to the floor in front of the couch and tucked an arm under his head for a pillow, and a few feet away Santana created her own bed from a couple of blankets and pillows. She tossed a pillow and blanket to Blaine, who caught them and quickly maneuvered them around until he was comfortable. He started to close his eyes when one of Kurt's hands fell from the couch and brushed Blaine's shoulder, so gratefully he intertwined his fingers with Kurt's and kissed the back of his hand.

Santana's voice broke the silence a minute later, and she whispered lowly, "Blaine?"

"Yeah, San?"

She tested his patience by not speaking for what felt like hours, in the darkness her shadowy silhouette shifting around to face him. Finally, she mumbled, "What if Brittany doesn't live through the birth?"

Blaine's lips mashed together so tightly they were a thin line, "You'll still have me."

"Do you promise?"

Blaine turned his head toward the carpet, not wanting her to see his eyes through the darkness and catch the unsure waver in them, "…Yeah." He rolled to face Kurt and fell asleep soon after, exhausted from night after night of staying awake. It felt nice going to bed before eleven o'clock. While he slept, his fingers were still linked with Kurt's.

* * *

"Alright, everyone!" Blaine pounded his hands together, interrupting the whining and moaning from the back of the group, where the football players were lined up in rows by position, "Listen up!" Nobody from the football team seemed to have a care of what he said, still either chatting amongst themselves or groaning that this second week wouldn't be fair at all, that the glee club members had no place screwing over the biggest football game of the year, and that Blaine had been kicked off, so why the hell was he coaching.

Blaine didn't dare show it for he knew they would eat him alive if he did, but he was scared shitless about teaching this week, and he didn't have Kurt to back him. Raising his voice, Blaine shouted, "Guys, that's enough!"

That seemed to draw in their attention, but it didn't even start to hush them. In fact, they just forced their complaints onto Blaine. "Why is the cripple coaching football, Coach Beiste?"

"Artie can't play in a fucking wheelchair!"

"The girls and ladyboys are going to screw us up, y'all!"

Blaine buried his face in his hands and he rubbed his temples, already prepared to give up only five minutes in to the first day. The glee kids seemed just as traumatized as he did, so rather than giving himself a headache with the football players he chose to stay on safe ground, "Okay, I'm splitting everyone up into three groups! Football players, go run some laps around the field! When I want you back here, I'll let you know. I'll take the guys in glee club with me to the locker rooms first. Girls, I want you to do stretches out here. Santana…" he scanned the mob of people ready to attack him if he made the wrong move for her dark head of hair, and found her beside Finn, "Santana, you're in charge of the field until I get back. Guys, come with me."

The glee girls huddled together in the center of the field while the mumbling and spitting football team raced each other to the outskirts by the bleachers. Waving the glee guys toward himself, Blaine was grateful when Kurt hurried forward and claimed Blaine's left side. Finn also snuck out of the mass of the group and met Blaine at his right side, but he didn't say a word.

Wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist to steady his shambling feet, Kurt skipped beside of him and hummed, "What are you planning to do, Blaine?"

"Get the glee club fitted into their jerseys and pads." He muttered, flushing slightly when Kurt's thumb hooked through his belt loop, his hand on Blaine's ass.

Finn abruptly spoke up, "Me, Puck, Mike and Sam already have our jerseys, Blaine, so you just need to fit Kurt and Artie. Want me to help?"

"Fine," Blaine checked over his shoulder and found the guys tottering after them, aimlessly kicking dirt and muttering amongst themselves. "You can get Artie. Keep the guys out of the shower area. I'll take Kurt there." Briefly whipping his head around, Blaine hollered, "Guys, I want you to check your jerseys and pads! If something doesn't fit, we'll resize you!"

"Got it!" Sam piped up, and Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Sam." He grumbled, then returned his attention to Kurt, "Angel, I might have a few spare things that could fit on you. Want to try anything of mine on?"

"Yes," Kurt chirped, intertwining his fingers with Blaine's and swinging their hands, "As long as it belonged to no one else…" he scrunched his face at the thought of it. "I don't trust where some of their jerseys might have been."

"None of us do, Kurt," Finn laughed, and Kurt smiled.

Blaine led the way up to the locker rooms and took the keys from his pocket, then jammed them into the lock. He twisted them and pushed on the door, nudging Kurt inside. He waited until Finn followed Kurt to head inside, the rest of the glee guys trailing after them. "Get busy, guys! We have a lot to do today!"

The guys scurried around to their individual lockers, and Blaine zoned out the sound of metal clanging and swearing as some of the guys forgot their combinations. After a few moments of struggle, they were all pulling out jerseys and pads, and Finn was cornering Artie with a measuring tape. Kurt remained right by his side, avoiding stepping on stains of puke or dried pieces of gum, and covering his nose at every strange whiff from the sweaty jerseys being unfolded and tugged over heads that had become well-adjusted to the sour odors.

Looking down at Kurt after assuring that everyone knew his place, Blaine laughed when he caught Kurt pink in the face from holding his breath and pinching his nose. He was adorable, but Blaine batted his hands away so he didn't pass out, "Don't like it in here?"

Puck burst into hearty laughter, "Look, guys! My sock turned green!"

Kurt turned almost as green as Blaine imagined Puck's sock was, "Ew." He said, nauseous.

Blaine hid Kurt's face in his shirt, and Kurt happily breathed in his cinnamon cologne, and Blaine shouted at Puck, "Puck! The sock goes in the trash! You're making Kurt sick!"

"Oh… whoops! My bad, Kurt!" A sock flew across the room and thumped the trashcan, then fell to the floor.

"I'm guessing he doesn't want to hear about this used condom I just found, then," came Sam's voice, and a chorus of disgusted shrieks followed the assumption.

"Guys!" Blaine covered Kurt's ears, "Do I need to put earmuffs on him? I should have taken the girls first!"

Puck broke from his fit of repugnance and claiming that it was probably Strando's—because he was _such_ a horny dick—and acknowledged a deafened Kurt, "Sorry, Kurt! Guys, shut up. Be mature."

He wasn't sure, but he thought Sam blurted the next thing in a Sean Connery impression, "Maturity? What is the meaning of this… maturity… you speak of?"

Blaine wanted to throw something at his head.

Feeling small tremors on his chest, Blaine stroked Kurt's hair and nudged his face up. Kurt bit his trembling, bottom lip, his eyes shining and cheeks rosy, and Blaine then realized that Kurt was giggling. He released Kurt's ears, "What is so funny?"

Kurt pointed a quivering finger at the group of boys, "_Them._ Your hands didn't help to block out their noisiness, you know."

Blaine dropped his head to the top of Kurt's and concentrated on his breathing, unsure if the bubble of air in his throat was laughter or a scream building up. Maybe a little of both. "Sometimes you frustrate me, Kurt," Blaine confessed, taking Kurt's flushed face in his hands and kissing his sweet lips, "but I absolutely adore that about you."

Kurt laughed again, his musical gurgling soaring through at least three octaves.

Shaking his head, Blaine took Kurt's hand and hollered at the guys, "I'm going to be fitting Kurt so no one come back to the showers!"

"Okay!" Sam agreed, tugging his jersey off and throwing it aside.

He shot them with one last warning glare and pulled Kurt in the direction of where they had been the night they had sex under one of these showers, and only a few hours away from when Blaine got kicked out of his house and moved in with Kurt. For those reasons, as revolting and unromantic as the locker rooms actually were, they held a lot of significance for Blaine.

He stopped by his old locker where he still stored his football wear and his sport bag, and with a few spins of his lock, he pulled the door open. He heaved out things he thought Kurt might fit into—feeling slightly smug because he loved seeing Kurt wear his clothes—and shut his locker back, then turned around to find Kurt with his arms and legs spread.

"Sweetheart," he smirked, pushing Kurt's limbs back into place, "what are you doing?"

"Don't you need to measure me?" Kurt blinked innocently.

"No," Blaine lowered onto a creaky bench and held his foot up, then moved Kurt between his thighs, "Honey, I've memorized you from top to bottom. There isn't a thing about your body that I don't know. Why don't you try this one on?" Handing over a thin shirt, Blaine watched Kurt tug it over his head and sleeves, then smooth it into place.

He turned twice so Blaine could get a full view. "It feels baggy," Kurt frowned, yanking at the hem of it, "and it's polyester."

"Kurt, all jerseys are polyester," Blaine noted, spinning him once more and pulling the shirt down over his bottom, where it had ridden up, "and it's supposed to be big. Your pads go underneath that. Come here—I'll help you put those on."

Kurt lowered onto the bench beside Blaine and eagerly stripped of his jersey, and Blaine unhooked one of Kurt's buttons on his vest. Kurt quickly wrapped his arms around himself, blocking Blaine out, and Blaine sighed, "Sweetheart, the clothes come off, too. You have to get used to the padding."

Tilting his head in the direction of the other boys, Kurt looked at Blaine, "What if they see?"

"They won't," Blaine started pushing buttons out of their holes again, "I've got you."

Once Blaine stripped Kurt of his vest, he folded it and set it at his hip, then pulled Kurt's shirt over his head. Kurt immediately flashed his eyes over his shoulder again, pressing his front into Blaine, but Blaine soothed him by stroking his hair, "You're okay. No one's looking. Let me put on your pads and you can get your jersey back on."

He reached for an undershirt and let Kurt cover himself with that, then nestled an elbow pad against Kurt's arm. He strapped it on then worked the other, and soon enough he was fixing a chest pad onto Kurt. The extra bulkiness made Kurt two times wider, and the change was especially evident when he hooked on the shoulder pads. Although Kurt was grimacing at his new outfit, he quickly yanked on the jersey in favor of hiding his body.

Blaine lifted Kurt's legs into his lap and he underwent the same procedure with those, leaving Kurt only in his spankies until—with much reluctance—he whipped on a pair of stirrup pants. After Blaine had his cleats laced up, Kurt put his hands on the bench and swung his legs off of Blaine. He wobbled as he rose to his feet, his body smothered by nylon and polyester. "_Blaine,_" he groaned, touching just above his crotch, "I'm not comfortable. And what is _this?_" Flushing, Kurt checked for onlookers once more then gestured harshly to his groin.

"That's…" Blaine cleared his throat, hoping no one was listening, "a jockstrap."

Kurt crossed his arms stubbornly, pointing his nose at the ceiling, "I'm not performing in this game. I can hardly walk and feel so… massive. I cheer. I don't perform in football."

Blaine sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor, "Baby, it's… it's actually… _play._ Performing is in theatre. And you know we have to do this. I don't like it, either. Besides, I won't have you playing. Kurt… trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Kurt's lips twitched into a smile, and he started peeling off the jersey, "I'm not playing? So, I can cheer, instead—?"

"No," Blaine said quickly, and Kurt looked hurt, "you can't… cheer. But, you're not playing, either. You just need to look the part and be counted on the team. Football is a violent sport. I don't want you getting hurt. Anytime I don't have you benched and there's a new call or the start of a play, lay down and don't get up until you hear the referee's whistle."

Kurt tilted his head and he placed his hands on his hips, "What?"

Blaine realized everything he'd said had just gone through deaf ears, "Okay… just… watch me. I'll give you signals."

"Kurt, Blaine?" a wavering voice quietly muttered, followed by a knocking on the wall outside the shower rooms, "Kurt, are you dressed?"

"Yes!" Kurt squeaked, and Finn's head poked into view.

"Blaine, is it okay… if I talk to Kurt for a moment? Alone?" Finn winced halfway through his suggestion, knowing his idea would probably go turned down.

Kurt didn't seem that bothered by it, but he looked at Blaine for his approval. Blaine flicked his eyes between the two of them, then stood with a hiss and patted Kurt on his lower back, "I'll be on the field… if that's what you want."

Kurt easily raised his hands, showing that he didn't mind either way. Blaine nodded and lumbered past him, pausing only once on his way past Finn. "You'll be good to him," he told Finn in a threatening tone, his voice a mere whisper so Kurt couldn't hear, "I don't want any nonsense coming out of you. He tells me everything, just so you know. I will find out if you say anything _stupid._"

"I know," Finn bobbed his head, also keeping his voice low, "I won't say anything stupid. Just trying to be a good brother. Let me have five minutes with him. I'll even walk him out to the field when we're done. I won't leave him alone."

Blaine turned his cheek from Finn and eyed Kurt, "I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Okay!" Kurt waved him goodbye, and as soon as Blaine strode out of the locker rooms and took the other glee guys with him, each of them following like loyal pups and barking what they thought might have been wrong with their jerseys or padding, he smiled at Finn, "_Salut._"

Finn suddenly looked awkward, and he shuffled his feet, "Uh… you look nice, Kurt. Better than I do in a jersey. Red's your color."

"_Merci,_" Kurt crossed one leg over the other and rested his chin on a tight fist, his blue eyes watching Finn steadily.

Finn kicked at the floor, "That means thanks, right?"

Kurt's lips curved, and he teased Finn, "_Oui._"

Finn blew out heavily, trying to understand, "Right. Um… listen… I think we need to talk, Kurt."

Attempting to fold his legs under him yet failing due to the amount of padding, Kurt settled for simply tucking them to the side, "What of?"

Clearing his throat, Finn dropped to the bench beside Kurt and tried not to stare at his endless legs right by his thighs. Even under the masculine, unshapely jersey and the padding, it was obvious that Kurt had a body and a pair of the sexiest legs that went on for miles. "Our parents getting married," he shrugged, "or just us. You like me, don't you, Kurt?"

Kurt showed his teeth in that smile, "You haven't given me any reason to dislike you."

"And as a brother?" Finn boldly touched Kurt's hand with his, his fingers resting at Kurt's knuckles. Kurt didn't reply that time, the smile fading from his lips as concern overcame his face, so Finn blurted, "Because… I'll try my best to be a good brother. I don't know what's upsetting you, but from here on out your secrets can be my secrets. I'll protect you from anything. You'll be my little brother, Kurt, and I love you like that. I know you have Blaine to go to, but try not to leave me out of anything, okay? I want us to be close."

Again, Kurt didn't have a word to say, but instead leaned into Finn as if urging for a tight embrace. Finn wrapped him in his arms and was shocked at how fragile he felt, as though if he squeezed too tight Kurt might snap. "I love you, too," Kurt whispered once he'd looped his arms around Finn's neck. "_Tu me rends heureux._"


	43. Fix You

Author's note: Hey, readers! So, I believe I'll be buying my own laptop with internet soon so there might be a chance I start getting updates done every few days. I don't have much to say except I've decided to twist this story and change the plot direction a lot sooner than I expected, and I'm sure you'll all know when I do make the change to the plot. It's going to be pretty major! Anyway, that's all I have to say about my chapters so I still love you all and your reviews/alerts/favorites mean everything to me! Next update will be soon!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own Glee.

* * *

"So, what is the reason they're having this Booty Camp?" Santana snorted, crossing one leg over the other and tilting her body into Kurt's. "Have they told you that or do they just expect you to make happy time between the jock blocks and the New Directions?"

Kurt hummed to himself and fished out a maroon nail polish from his makeup bag, then held it up to Santana's fingers to compare. He dropped it back in the bag while Blaine draped his arms over the length of the bench, "I guess the football team and the glee club have been fighting a lot," Blaine shrugged, as if he didn't already know that from experience, "Figgins threatened to cancel both for next year—and, I can imagine, the rest of this year—if we didn't agree to do this."

Sighing when the two groups just spoken of started emerging from the locker rooms, fully attired and throwing each other subtle glances of distrust and hatred, Blaine rubbed a palm over his forehead then clapped his hands a few times to silence them.

Immediately, they had something to complain about.

Even the glee clubs' eyes flew open wide, but luckily they had the decency to not give the football players any more encouragement to be as audaciously rude as possible, "Why the hell are Santana and Kurt sitting out of this?"

"They need to work, too!"

"Coach Beiste, your asshole choice of a coach is picking favorites!"

Santana smiled at that, and even though Blaine enjoyed how that must have jabbed them, he knew in the long run he'd want to provoke them as little as possible. Just to spare himself the annoyance of their whining. Blaine rounded them up again by shouting, "From the experience I've seen some of the football players play with, I'm going to list off some initial positions I think the people I've chosen for them will take on well." He pointed to Finn, who stood beside a bulky and teetering Rachel, steadying her, in the front row, "Finn, you're quarterback. Mike, running back. Sam, you're center, and, Puck, defensive end." Although Blaine wanted to deny it and keep himself apart from what he used to know, Blaine knew his former friend's strengths and weaknesses so he blurted quickly, almost coughed, "Azimio, outside linebacker."

Even though not a lot of other people reacted, mainly because they had either forgotten about Blaine's other side to his life and the fiasco that was his friendship with Azimio and Karofsky, it seemed Azimio was just as shocked as Blaine that he had said his name. He actually didn't think he'd be able to get through the first syllable without choking, and that he'd have Finn give the message to him. Azimio's eyes comically widened, and he glanced over his shoulder as if there was another Azimio in the crowd, but Blaine chose to let the matter drop at that and tore his eyes away. Azimio could take the acknowledgement whichever way he wanted, just as long as he didn't assume it was a sign that Blaine was coming back to, as his new friends sometimes called it jokingly, the Dark Side.

After a moment of pause and thinking over his strengths to be able to say that aloud, Blaine stumbled through his next few words and felt Kurt's hand lovingly slip through his, his source of strength as he was forced back into the life he wanted nothing to do with, "I'll need to work with the rest of you today to observe your stronger points and weaknesses, and who you partner well with. I'd like to work with those who have never been on the football team before. Anyone on the team can go to the other side of the field to stretch, or they can stay here to help me out with this."

Because he only knew that when Kurt and Santana were judging nail polishes and buffing their nails he would be receiving no help from them.

All of the football players walked in a huddle toward the opposite end of the field, taking a couple of the glee guys with them—Mike and Puck—but, not to his surprise, Sam and Finn stuck around in favor of grouping around Artie.

Finally in his comfort zone, Blaine fully relaxed and draped a casual arm around Kurt's shoulders, capable to do so now that he was sure he wouldn't be hopping up to fight with one of the football players. He was about to speak when Sam's hand shot up, and Blaine's brows furrowed as he pointed to him, "Yes… Sam?"

"Can I work on exercises with them?" He jumbled his words together in one breath.

Blaine slowly nodded, unsure how to show his gratefulness that Sam was willing to take this off Blaine's chest, "Okay. Sam, make sure you watch for missteps and speed. Start them off with five of each set." He was sure this had to be at least one or two of the girls' first times in getting down on her hands and knees and pushing herself up and down. He could have been an ass and made them do fifteen or even twenty of each set, and he would have, but he didn't want any more complaining than absolutely necessary.

He just wanted to enjoy his day with Kurt.

And it seemed like that wasn't happening, either, seeing as the girls had gotten about three push-ups done before the groaning and moaning started. He ignored them, watching carefully as Finn diverted his gaze from the staggering and suffering girls on the ground over to the group of three on the bench. Before Blaine had a chance to sweep his eyes away, Finn caught him looking at him to see why he was so interested in him, Kurt and Santana, and Finn cheerfully came bouncing over to them.

Blaine slumped, pretending to be invisible.

Kurt perked up at the arrival of his future stepbrother, and a lovely smile curved his lips as he scrubbed the tips of his oval nails with a file, "_Salut,_ Finn."

Santana looked up after Kurt's acknowledgement, and she muttered a quick greeting before turning back to Kurt with a navy polish that was swiftly rejected.

Glad to be received, Finn bobbed his head, "Hey, guys. Blaine."

"Finn."

At Blaine's blunt disinterest in holding a conversation, Finn awkwardly spun around and started to lower himself between Kurt and Blaine. Blaine realized what was happening instantly, and yanked Kurt to his side, forcing Finn between Kurt and Santana. Santana screwed up her face at the interruption, and to distract herself from Finn she bent and searched through her own bag. Discovering a nearly empty water bottle, Santana promptly stood and excused herself, "Blaine, Kurt, I'll be back in a minute. Kurt, you want to come?"

Kurt seemed happily squished against Blaine, and he chirped, "No, thank you, Santana. Hurry—we have a dozen more colors to go through!"

That dragged an amused smile to her face, and she spun on her heel, "Yeah. I'll get to that."

Blaine watched her swish away, not being afraid to shove between Artie and Sam as she headed back to the school. He flicked his eyes back to Kurt, who had resumed purring a little tune Blaine recognized from Chicago and buffing his nails, and then up at Finn, who gaped in total fascination as Kurt moved.

Sensing he was being observed, Finn flickered his eyes away from Kurt's thin hands and to Blaine, and he arched his brows when he realized that Blaine wasn't in the mood for playing. "Um… hey… Blaine."

Blaine spent no time jumping past the small talk, "Is there something you want to say, Finn?"

Finn's neck heightened in color, and he cleared his throat while wriggling slightly. Kurt looked up after being bumped, the rude elbow to his side nearly causing him to spill a bottle of polish. "Blaine… there is something I want to say. You're…" he struggled to find words, his eyes circling around the sky, the ground, the other players, anywhere but at Blaine, until he slowly muttered, "a bad coach."

Blaine wasn't surprised at the accusation, and he kept calm while Kurt alertly placed himself in the middle of the conversation, waiting for Blaine to act out or punch Finn, "I'm a bad coach?"

"It's not me saying it," Finn tried to convince him, his eyes huge with alarm, "It's the other football players. They say you're avoiding them and that it's not fair that you're letting Kurt and Santana sit out. They want you to be more involved and give everyone the same treatment."

"Really," Blaine said in disbelief, "The same assholes that treat gay kids like shit because they're gay? They want equality—?"

"Blaine, it's not like that."

Blaine wasn't at all urged to walk over there and apologize for, as they claimed, avoiding them, "It's exactly like that, Finn. And I figured after all this time that they'd want absolutely nothing to do with me. I'm not avoiding them, either. They're nothing to be afraid of."

Finn, crushed, bit his bottom lip and squirmed under the pressure, "Blaine…"

Before Finn gave his next reason for Blaine to surrender to whatever forgiveness and kindness Karofsky hadn't absolutely poisoned in him, another voice jumped at him from in front of him, and Blaine twisted away from Finn to face what he was absolutely scared to death of, no matter what he tried to deny to Finn.

"Blaine?" the usually ostentatious and bold Azimio muttered uncertainly, his eyes flashing between Kurt and Blaine, "Dude, can we talk?"

For a different reason than Kurt, Blaine's heart started pounding abnormally fast.

He was so fucking scared.

* * *

"What happened to Karofsky, man?" Azimio finally asked once they were halfway across the field, neither of them brushing shoulders and both of them quiet. Blaine's hands, stuffed into his pockets, shuddered uncontrollably, and he wondered if Azimio's approaching him had anything to do with him speaking to him after months of silence between the two.

Maybe he'd made a mistake thinking back on his past for a matter of seconds, and then talking aloud about it.

Blaine thought for a moment about telling Azimio that Karofsky had gone absolutely insane over Blaine, and that he was after Kurt, and that he wanted his unborn child dead, but Azimio didn't need to know any of that. They might not have been friends any longer, but Blaine would subject no man to Karofsky's wrathful nature, not even someone who had betrayed him then attempted to ruin his life before realizing that Blaine was content with his new status and there was nothing he could do to harm him.

He settled on, "Expelled for fighting, I heard. Don't you know? You're his best friend."

Azimio seemed self-conscious, and he struggled for words, "I haven't spoken to Karofsky since homecoming. After that, he was different. He… lost himself. Even for me, he was too much. Dude, what the hell happened to us? We used to own this place. You guys left me and now nobody cares about the jocks. We're old news. _I'm_ no longer a threat to _anyone!_ I tried to Slushie Israel the other day and you know what he did? He laughed in my face! You were it, Blaine! Israel used to shit his pants every time you walked down the hall! Now that you're with that fag, it's like… this school doesn't even make sense anymore."

Blaine started to lose his nerves. Same-old Azimio, underneath all of those insecurities that he was losing himself. "I was never it, Azimio." He muttered, glancing over his shoulder and checking on Kurt, who was laughing with Finn at a streak of blue nail polish on his nose, when suddenly he tilted his head at Blaine and his pretty eyes met Blaine's. He blinked slowly, an understood encouragement, before he got busy in searching for his polish remover to scrub Finn's nose. "None of us were. We were just stupid teenagers who couldn't move on from our immaturities and learn that life isn't Slushies and throwing others down."

"You mean, like, your glee friends?"

"Yes," Blaine nodded, "like them. I can't remember why we found hurting them so amusing. They're great people, Azimio, and I spent four years not even having a reason to Slushie them or mock them."

"We had reasons," Azimio argued, and the longer Blaine listened to him the more he noticed how idiotic he sounded, "The wheelchair kid? An obvious one. That girl Asian with the stutter. Big nose is a _total_ control freak. And Finn Hudson… just about the biggest traitor in the entire school. And that guy that dragged you down… Kent? Faggy-assed freak—"

"His name is Kurt," Blaine interrupted, keeping his voice low while his tongue scraped his teeth, trying to cut loose so he could throw a mouthful of vulgarities at Azimio. But he couldn't let himself go like that. He'd worked too hard to give it up. It'd be showing Azimio exactly what he wanted. "And he's not a faggy-assed freak. He's the love of my life. Artie… that's the name of the boy in the wheelchair. His parents got him a pair of mechanical legs last Christmas, and he practices with them every day. Tina was the girl with the stutter, and I don't know if you've noticed, but she got over that sophomore year. Rachel is the girl with the control issues and…" he hesitated, rubbing his knuckles over his jaw, "I'm not going to dispute that. Finn Hudson…" he paused again, needing a moment to think back to when Finn chose the glee club over football, and he himself had fallen into an even deeper trap after he'd been upgraded to quarterback. He just hadn't known it'd been a trap at the time. "Finn never left you, Azimio. He chose what he loved to do, and maybe you'll do the same."

Azimio's guard went right back up, and he withdrew his nice streak slightly, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that just because Karofsky and I are gone doesn't mean you have to roll over and die. If the football team doesn't make you happy just because you can't torture others anymore, move on. There are a thousand clubs at this school—probably far too many pointless ones—but, Azimio, join the wrestling team o-or… the hockey team. Or even the Heckling Club, if that's what it takes! You'd get to heckle other kids who joined just because they could to take it, because they could do it right back. You have a lot of expression, Azimio. You just don't know how to get it out there without… _hurting_… someone else! Kurt's been right all along, high school's going to end and no one's going to remember you, Azimio. They'll just remember how their high school days scarred them, and that it was one of the assholes on the football team who made their life absolute hell. Do you really think _your_ Slushie is going to make a difference to them? When all of you guys act like assholes, you start to blend together like a bunch of sadistic automatons. You like making a difference, Azimio, and stirring things up, so do it so that someone will remember you for it."

Azimio blinked at him, and from his expression, Blaine couldn't tell if he'd made any difference at all, but finally Azimio nodded and started to reach out. Blaine jerked away. Touch would have been too much for him. It was hard enough trying to pep-talk his ruined history, his former friend who he was sure at one point actually wanted him curled up on the floor and sobbing that his life was over because he was so miserable and bullied. "'Kay," was all Azimio said, "So, whatever I do, will you come back? I need you, Blaine. Whether you like it or not, you were _it._"

So, he'd made absolutely no dents in Azimio's cruel ways. "No," he muttered, "Azimio… what I need… what we both do… is… closure. Our friendship has been through too much, and it's so broken, Azimio. You probably don't get it, but it's time to move on. You'll never want me for me, just who I was, and I don't want back what I left behind. I'm tired of fighting all the time, and people looking at me like I'm a monster. I love my friends and glee club and… Kurt, and you need to find yourself. This is… goodbye… Azimio. I hope you do well one day… after you've come to term with things."

Blaine started to step away, heading in the direction of safety, when Azimio called after him bitterly, "Was letting go really that easy for you?"

Turning his back on Azimio, Blaine strode toward his greatest love, needing him, craving him, but he managed before his voice gave out as tears balled in his throat like a tight fist, "I never said letting go was easy."

By the time he got over to Kurt and Finn, both eyeing him with concern and Kurt standing to meet him halfway in an affectionate embrace, Santana had returned with a filled water bottle. She noticed that something was wrong, and she approached him as though he might catch fire, "Blaine, what is it? Do you want to leave? I'll drive you and Kurt over to my place."

Blaine shook his head, his face buried in Kurt's hair. He loved holding him, especially when Kurt hadn't heard a thing and still knew exactly what to do. He smelled so sweet and felt so soft. "No… there's something I need to do first. San, can you drive us up town?"

"Up town?" Santana's brows furrowed, and she reached in her pocket for her keys, "As in… classy Lima? Well… it's no Lima Heights but I will take you. Kurt, you want to walk with me to the parking lot?"

After a moment of clutching Blaine, Kurt nodded his head and the two of them stepped off the field, wandering to the parking lot.

Blaine looked over at Finn, "Finn, tell Schuester I'm sorry but I had to… finish this. If you want, take over."

"Um…" Finn nervously jerked his head around to the group of football players, unsure about the idea of taking charge of all of them, "wait… where are you guys going? Will I see you later? Blaine!"

Blaine ignored him, digging his phone from his pocket and pacing himself toward the parking lot. He typed in what he had to—the name he had never forgotten—and, to his relief, he'd stayed in Lima.

* * *

"Explain this to me again," Santana demanded, briefly tearing her eyes from the road to glower at Blaine, "Who are we going to see? A cousin?"

Blaine shook his head, "His name is Ryder Lynn. He's not related to me."

"Ryder Lynn…" Santana said the word slowly, testing it on her tongue, then she settled on shrugging, "Nope. Never heard of him."

Kurt, who had been snuggled sleepily into his seat with one arm stretched out so Blaine could claim his hand, opened his blue eyes and stared at the side of Blaine's head. He was obviously just as curious as Santana. "Santana, Ryder used to go to our school." Blaine raised his brows as though it should have been obvious, "He was just about in every club our school has and made a speech at every student council election. You don't know who he is?"

"No," she muttered, not in the least bit ashamed at not recognizing those beneath her, "What's he to you? You've never hung out with any Ryder. He sounds like a total drag."

Never one for beating around the bush, Blaine firmed up his lips and touched his collar, uncomfortably pulling at it, "He was the boy that I punched."

Santana almost released the wheel, and the car jerked as she stamped on the brake. The man in the car behind them laid on the horn, also slamming to a sudden stop, and Santana twisted around to quickly flip him the finger. "_What?_ Why didn't you tell me that before, Blaine? What the hell are you planning to do over there?"

Blaine's face flushed, and he looked at his lap, "If you think I'm going to slug him again, then you've got it all wrong—"

"I don't think that!" Santana blurted and lifted her foot from the brake, "But, what's brought this on all of a sudden? Blaine, it's been a year since you've seen this kid, and the last time he saw you, you were covered in his blood! Do you really think he's going to want you around?"

"Santana, stop!" Blaine shouted, halting all sounds in the car except the quiet purr of the motor. From behind them, Kurt pulled his legs up onto his seat and tugged them into his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. "Do you think it hasn't bothered the hell out of me, what I did to him? Every time I think about it I feel like I have to puke. What I did to him… was cruel, and talking to Azimio back there… made me realize what an asshole I was. Even if Ryder doesn't accept me, I need to apologize. I want… out, Santana. Out of my past. And the only way I'll be able to let go is if I quit holding on so tightly."

"And forgive yourself?"

Blaine shook his head, calming down once Santana had, "I'm not there yet, Santana. I have too much to feel guilty about."

The conversation dropped away from them. Santana continued driving for a time, her eyes directly forward, while Blaine looked back at Kurt. Kurt had leaned against the window and was watching everything and nothing at once, his eyes glassy.

After a while, Santana finally slowed down in a neighborhood that Blaine had mentioned to her, and she murmured, "Which house?"

"Down that street, second one on the right."

Santana pumped the gas and the wheels crept forward, and she spun onto the road. Slowing down to a stop, Santana parked the car in the driveway of a two-story house with windows dotting nearly every space on the front and a manicured lawn landscaped at its front, back and sides. None of them commented on the good-looking décor.

Blaine reached for his seatbelt and clicked it, then noticed that his two companions hadn't twitched. Kurt eyed him for what he wanted him and Santana to do, while Santana didn't turn her head. "Kurt, sweetheart," Blaine offered in a gentle tone, "would you feel more comfortable waiting for me or do you want to come with me?"

At the offer, Kurt unstrapped himself.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest, knowing she'd be asked the same, "I don't want to come in. Seeing you put yourself through failure isn't something I want to watch."

Blaine kicked his door open at the same time Kurt swung his legs out, "Whatever, San. Can you drive us to the school after this? My car's still in the lot." When Santana barely nodded her chin up and down, Blaine told her what she probably assumed, "We'll be back in a minute. Kurt?"

Kurt hopped out of his seat and Blaine did the same, meeting Kurt around the front of the car. The two of them automatically matched their steps and linked their fingers together. Blaine knew that Kurt was the only thing holding him up, supporting him, his inspiration to, after a year of hiding, emerge from the person he used to be and fix things. Fix himself.

He had to. He owed it to Ryder… to Santana… to Brittany… to Kurt. And to himself.

Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped up onto the porch and was facing the door, and suddenly his own stupidity hit him like a brick. He started to draw back, stumble away, but Kurt instantly caught him and hushed him, "Blaine, Blaine," he wrapped his hands around Blaine's sides, "It's okay. It's going to be okay. I'm proud of you—"

"I punched him."

"I know," Kurt said simply, adjusting his collar where Blaine had rumpled it, "And it's okay. I'm proud of you because you're trying to make it better. Blaine… relax." Pressing his hands into Blaine's chest, Kurt leaned forward and brushed his pink mouth across Blaine's, who had his lips twisted and pursed in his panic.

Taking up the situation for himself, Kurt curled his hand and rapped his knuckles lightly on the door. The white turned a flushed pink, and Kurt swiftly rubbed his hand against his pants to soothe it. Blaine couldn't help himself but to lift it to his lips and kiss the redness away.

From inside the door, there was a noisy holler, "…It's okay, babe! I've got it!"

There was the sound of stomping footsteps, then a sigh as someone twisted the knob, and the door cracked open. Blaine inhaled sharply, but Kurt put on his best smile and held his hand out. "Hello," he murmured politely, "you must be Ryder Lynn."

A pair of dark brows scooted together, and then brown eyes widened, and then the brow ruffling again, before Ryder's yelp caused Kurt to withdraw his hand and glue himself to Blaine's side, "Kurt Hummel!"

Kurt's eyes flew open wide, "You know my name?"

Ryder's pale face flushed to the shade of cherries, "Of course I do! You are my biggest hero! I watch for your new fashion lines every month. I didn't know you were in Ohio! Are you doing a shoot?"

"No…" Kurt made a gesture with his hand, unsure of how to answer those questions, "I'm living here until summer. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ryder. I appreciate that you wear my designs." Kurt glanced slightly past Ryder, then back at his adoring face, "May we come in?"

For the first time since he opened the door, Ryder's eyes snapped up to Blaine's face, and something in them flashed but then they returned to Kurt, as devotedly as ever. "Absolutely! Am I being interviewed for something? Possibly to do a commercial with you? It's been a _dream_ of mine since you first started with Vogue."

Kurt laughed, and Blaine noticed how forced it sounded as he sashayed after Ryder, "This has nothing to do with me, actually, but _merci._ I love a compliment."

Ryder led them into his living room, and he gestured to the plump, ruby couch against the wall, "Would you like to sit down? I'll get you a drink. Anything to make you comfortable."

Kurt easily perched at one end of the couch, absorbing the youthful and cheery living room, "Oh, please, don't dote on me. I came here so my boyfriend could speak with you."

"Boyfriend?" Ryder looked at Blaine, who nodded at him and put his chin on his fists, "Hey." His eyes squinted and he slightly leaned forward as he occupied the couch opposite them, "Sorry I'm staring… You look just like someone I used to know. But he kind of lost his mind."

Blaine winced at the insult, and he wondered if he'd really changed that drastically, "How are you, Ryder?"

Ryder leaned back and spread his thighs, confusion warping his childlike features, "I'm fine. Sorry… who are you?"

Meeting Ryder's eyes straight on, Blaine tilted his head and wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders, "My name's Blaine."

Neither Kurt nor Blaine had ever seen someone look as shocked as Ryder did in that second, and he halfway leaped off the couch, "I knew it!" he shouted, pointing at Blaine, "I knew I knew you! Blaine Anderson!" It didn't take much longer for his face to scrunch, "Boyfriend?"

Kurt smiled again, laying his hand over Blaine's, and Blaine used his free hand to cover half his face, "A lot has happened since you left."

"You're gay now? And you're dating a supermodel?"

Blaine blandly nodded.

Ryder's mouth twitched, "Can you fill me in?"

Slouching, Blaine cleared his throat, "I joined the New Directions. I broke things off with Karofsky. Kurt came to McKinley and we started dating. Ryder… I came to apologize for what I did to you that night. Ever since then, it's destroyed me… when I think about it. There's nothing wrong with being gay, and I'm sorry that I punched you because you were."

"I forgive you," Ryder murmured without pause, giving Blaine a grin, "I knew you regretted it. Everyone was talking about how you cried over it all night. It's nice to hear you say that, though. I figured after a year you'd forgotten about me."

Blaine swallowed thickly, "I would have… had I not hurt you so badly. I can't forget something like that." Nipping his bottom lip, Blaine shifted his weight and tapped Kurt's bottom to nudge him toward the edge of the couch, "You probably have stuff to do, and I need to get home to make dinner. It was nice seeing you, Ryder—"

"Hey, wait," Ryder jumped to his feet and scurried across the room right as a door from down the hallway swung open, "let me give you my number. I won't be coming back to McKinley… ever… because that place was a disaster—" he paused to laugh, and held his palm out for Blaine's phone, "—but maybe we can catch up soon at Breadstix or the Lima Bean. My weekends are usually open, but I have afterschool classes through the week."

A masculine voice shouted as footsteps came pounding down the hallway, "Babe, who is it?"

Both Blaine and Kurt blushed an unusually bright shade as a large boy not much taller than Blaine but twice as wide came stalking through the hallway, his hair close to his head and his cynical eyes roaming over them judgingly. A loose towel swung around his hips, threatening to fall at any second, and as he flushed and squirmed Kurt buried his face in Blaine's shoulder. Blaine tried to divert his gaze from the tent arching from the towel, but he had to keep his eyes on Ryder, who was taking his good old time punching numbers and occasionally asking his boyfriend quiet questions about the numbers, which the boyfriend answered patiently.

The dark boy spun away from Blaine and Kurt, and Blaine did look away that time when the dark boy all but swallowed Ryder's lips, then trudged away without a single word or spare glance at the two on the couch. Blaine hated how he found it so fascinating, their relationship, as the only other gay couple he'd met was Jeff and Nick, and both of them had been decently attired and politely shy in their kisses in their work environment. Blaine had never seen such a crude display of gay affection up close. He just gave it out to Kurt, but never witnessed it face to face with another gay couple. It both interested him and disgusted him how open they could be in front of other people, when Blaine was still just getting used to the feeling of holding hands with Kurt in front of Santana.

Ryder awkwardly giggled as he handed Blaine's phone back, "Sorry… my boyfriend… Jake. He's… very secure in who he is." Realizing that Kurt and Blaine were still in a state of shock at the open groping, Ryder pointed at Blaine's phone to switch the subject, "There's my cell phone number. You can call me anytime but I don't text. Will I hear from you soon?"

"Sure," Blaine grunted, "Thanks, Ryder, for everything."

"Yes, thank you," Kurt agreed, relieved that Ryder had been so accepting and forgiving. He started to stand, dragging Blaine up with him, "Our Regionals competition is coming up soon. Maybe you'd like to drive to Chicago to see it? We'd be happy to get you a ticket."

"Definitely!" Ryder nodded enthusiastically, flinging his arms around a startled Kurt for a friendly embrace. "I'm glad you guys came to see me. Blaine…" he looked at him from over Kurt's shoulder, "It's really good that you're happy now."

Blaine nudged Kurt toward the door, and Ryder took him into a one armed embrace, "I'll see you around, Ryder. I've really missed you at McKinley. You were the school spirit."

Ryder smirked into his shoulder, then Blaine released him and guided Kurt to the door. He promised Ryder he'd call him soon, and that they'd meet up, and then he left.

And he was okay, just as Kurt had promised. And he was happy, just as Ryder had claimed.

* * *

The moment Blaine pulled up close to his driveway, he realized something was wrong.

Speeding up slightly, Blaine glided the car against the curb and parked because there wasn't a single spot in the driveway. Not only were there two moving trucks, his furniture was scattered everywhere. Blaine didn't wait long to throw his door open and slam it shut after himself, his eyes flying wide as two men hauled one of the couches right past his head and more or less tossed into the storage section of the truck.

Suddenly, another person was at his side, and Blaine flashed his eyes at Kurt, who was watching with devastated eyes as three men carelessly threw his wardrobe into a truck. Kurt clenched his hand so tightly he thought it might snap, "Blaine! These are _our _things!"

Blaine snuck toward the front door, dodging a man scooting a dresser across the yard, "Hold on, baby. I'll find Burt and figure this out."

They passed a man heaving Kurt's trunk of childhood novelties—like his tiara collection—around, and Kurt made a sound and started to speak up, but before he could tell him to be gentle, Blaine tugged him up to the house and nudged him inside.

Right in the middle of the room were Finn and Carole, plopped on the floor and sorting through picture frames. Except for random knick knacks on the walls, the room had been stripped of furniture. Kurt made another soft noise, and he touched his fingertips to his lips as he examined what was left of his childhood home.

Rather than succumb to the dread stirring up an ache in his stomach and a knot in his throat, Blaine growled gutturally, "What the hell is going on?"

Finn looked up, and he grinned and waved, "Oh, good, you're here! Kurt, I have to ask. How much do you think this is worth?" He held up a picture of a pink flower, and Kurt let out a faint cry.

He raced forward and yanked it from Finn's hands, nestling it against his stomach. "Why would you think to sell this, Finn? My mother gave me this when I was only a baby! She hung it in my nursery and said it was as pretty a pink as the blush in my cheeks! You just can't get _rid_ of something like that!"

Finn recoiled, his nose crinkling, "Sorry, Kurt. I didn't know. Your dad put that in the pile he wants to sell. Maybe it was a mistake and he just forgot."

Blaine immediately strode forward and touched Kurt's back, the latter's eyes having started to swim, "Kurt, why don't you go downstairs for a minute? Find Pavarotti and give him his dinner. He's probably hungry now."

Kurt weakly nodded his head, still holding the picture firmly to his heart while he rubbed his red eyes with a small fist. Blaine waited until Kurt disappeared and shut the door behind himself, completely secluding himself from the outside world, to widen his eyes at Finn, "Tell me what the fuck is going on right now, Finn Hudson, or I will—"

"Blaine, please," Finn, perturbed, gestured at his mom, "can you watch your mouth in front of my mom?"

"Tell me that when you're not tearing my house apart."

"We're not doing anything to the house," said a casual voice from beyond them, and Blaine lifted his murderous gaze to Burt, who crossed his arms and nodded at him, "We're just selling it."

Blaine's mouth fell open against his own will, and he took a step away from Burt. "We're moving?"

"Uh huh." Burt walked forward and stroked his knuckles over a bare wall, a million emotions playing over his face, "Over to Whitman Avenue. It's a nice area, Blaine, lots of houses and near some kids your age. It's closer to your school."

Blaine breathed, leaning on a cool wall and closing his eyes. This couldn't be happening. "Why?"

"Blaine, you knew that with my marrying Carole… things would have to change. We can't live in a two-bedroom house with two bathrooms anymore. This house has as much space as an apartment. The house on Whitman is bigger… it has two floors. You wouldn't have to live in a basement anymore."

Blaine reopened his eyes, but he didn't appear any happier.

Burt grew defensive, "Blaine, dammit! Everything I do anymore is such a damned mistake with you and Kurt! I got us a nice house so you and Kurt could keep your own space and Finn wouldn't have to bunk with you! I even made sure Kurt had his own walk-in closet! Carole and Finn are being good sports! They're moving their stuff out tonight, and Finn hasn't complained once! In fact, he's happy to be getting a brother! You and Kurt are both essential parts of this family, so start acting like it! Go downstairs and collect your things—"

Blaine clamped his hands over his ears, "_Quiet!_" he shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut, "Be quiet! I need to get out of here!" Pushing past everyone in the room, Blaine pounded on his bedroom door, "Kurt, come on! Get Pavarotti! We're leaving!"

Blaine didn't bother with Finn's pleading voice, and he darted back to the door to grab his coat from the rack and check the pocket for his keys. Within seconds, a pair of feet padded up behind him, and a trembling voice whispered, "Where are we going?"

Tearing a shawl from the rack, Blaine draped it over Kurt and wiped his sleeve against Kurt's tear smudged cheeks. From his shoulder, Pavarotti twittered noisily and bent to nip a piece of Blaine's coat in his mouth. He inched himself onto Blaine's arm, then climbed the length to his shoulder.

Blaine bumped his forehead with Kurt's, "I don't know, sweetheart. Anywhere but here."

* * *

Somehow, the two of them ended up at the hospital. It was a quiet day, or maybe it was just quiet to Blaine, who felt like he was watching his life go by in slow-motion. Everything was quiet in slow-motion, words slurred and noises drawn out. He wanted one glimpse into his future, just to speed up time for a moment to see where they would be after Karofsky was finished, after things settled with Kurt's dad, after Blaine came out completely. He wanted to see what he had to do to make it better, to make Kurt his always, but he was so confused.

Watching Brittany rest in her coma somehow made things a little clearer to him. Above everything else, he knew he had to keep Kurt out of harm's way. Do whatever it took to protect him. He couldn't lose Kurt.

Not to anything.

Not to the way he lost himself four years ago… or even death.


	44. Pretending

Author's note: Chapter forty-six! Woot! So, we're back to Klaine smut and flirting. There are also A LOT of emotions in this, and they swing around a lot sooo I hope I worked all of the crying/anger/humor/fluff together alright! I would have had this up sooner but I don't like editing and I got distracted by Glee videos. Buut... once again, I'd like to thank my wonderful beta, JMarieAllenPoe, for being not only awesome at coming up with ideas but creating amazing crackfics with me. You are a lovely person and Pavi would definitely not go all rageface on you. SiverWhiteDragon, I'm so happy you're back and glad you're not ready to totally kill me for my upcoming ideas! :D As for the rest of my readers/reviewers/favoriters/alerters, you all fill me with such joy! Wow... This was the fluffiest author's note I've ever written which is really cool because #NotGoodAtFluff Anyway, keep Klaine-ing and harass Ryan Murphy on Twitter until he gets Klaine back together! Okay, I'm so done now because I probably sound drugged to a lot of people XD Until next time, my fantabulous, Klaine-ing readers!

Disclaimer: When I publish my first novel and get a million dollars (as if :p) I will buy Glee. For now, I'll settle on some very attractive posters of Klaine in my room.

* * *

"Kurt?" Blaine called, tromping through the endless hallways. "Kurt, babe, where are you at?"

Nearby, in a bathroom across the hallway, a contractor giving Carole a tour of the home, poked his nose out and narrowed his eyes at Blaine, either for calling another boy _babe_ or for shouting. Blaine put his money on the first. Then, before Blaine even had a chance to snap at him to mind his own business, Carole laughed and patted one of the walls, "Oh, Blaine! Come look at this wallpaper! Isn't it just lovely?"

He couldn't have given one less damn about that wallpaper. Shaking his head, Blaine waved her off, "Um… not now, Carole. I have to find Kurt."

"I'm right here," squeaked a small voice from a few doors down, and Blaine whipped around. As if to give Blaine a guide of where to go, a tiny, yellow bird waddled out of the last door in the hallway, out-of-the-way from the rest. Also exploring, Pavarotti paced himself into a different room and went about his examining.

Stepping past the bird while he darted back out into the hallway, obviously disinterested in that room, and right under his feet to return to Kurt, Blaine followed him into one of the bedrooms.

He found Kurt stretched out on the long windowsill, gazing in a bored fashion at the moving trucks parked on the length of driveway below him. Nearly everything in the bedroom was untouched—not that there was much to look at yet—but Blaine noticed that the walk-in closet chosen specifically for him was left alone, which was a dead giveaway to Blaine that Kurt didn't want to be here.

Kurt only tore his eyes from the window after Pavarotti had made a noisy sound and flapped his wings desperately to get his attention. Not changing his solemn expression, Kurt scooped the bird from the floor and perched him on his stomach, and Pavarotti happily puffed himself up and nestled into the silky fabric.

Without once acknowledging Blaine, Kurt started humming to himself as he always did when he was tired. After what felt like forever of watching Kurt stare at the working men below, Blaine finally chose to shut the door and slide down until his butt was on the carpet.

At last, Kurt moved. He reached down to stroke Pavarotti's bobbing head and his lips parted in a long sigh. His enchantingly beautiful voice startled Blaine out of his daydreaming, just ogling Kurt and admiring him; he could never get used to how charming Kurt actually was, "Sometimes I think I can smell my mom's baking," was all he said, and Blaine's brows furrowed as he put his chin on his fist, "and that I can hear her voice. I can feel her arms around me. When I was scared as a child, she would always take me on her knee and sing me to sleep."

It took another while for Kurt to speak again, as he slipped back into his humming after that, and Blaine was left to just ogle him. He didn't comment on what Kurt said, and he didn't ask questions, either. He didn't have to because he understood.

When Kurt's quiet voice drifted over to Blaine's ear, Blaine started scooting toward Kurt, longing to touch him and hold him, "Have you ever loved someone so much, Blaine, that even when they're not with you, you can still remember the scent of their perfume, and the pretty tune of their voice, and how you always felt when you could fall asleep in their arms? That you remember it so well… it's almost like they're there beside you and you just want to reach out and pull them against you to make sure you aren't imagining it?"

Kurt knew the answer to that. Once Blaine reached Kurt, he plopped beside the windowsill and inched his hand up to Kurt's thigh, stroking and petting him. Kurt tilted his head at Blaine, and Kurt leaned down to kiss his forehead, "When you're away from me or… I'm in bed or I shower alone, I… touch myself and pretend it's you. I've memorized the sound of your singing so I don't have to be without it, and I can't sleep without you in my arms, and no matter how well I know the way your body fits against mine, no amount of pretending or hugging pillows that are just as soft as you to my chest can make up for you."

Parting his pink lips, Kurt slid one bare foot off the windowsill and pressed it to Blaine's chest. Blaine's neck flushed as he stared at Kurt's pretty face, his blond lashes fluttering over the blue of his eyes. He really was lovely. Entertaining a sudden fantasy of his, Blaine touched the top of Kurt's foot and slid his fingers to Kurt's small toes. He wiggled them one at a time to tease, and Kurt swallowed a giggle at the tickling. "You have beautiful feet, Kurt." Blaine admitted, peeling the pale foot off his chest and bringing it to his lips to kiss the arch of it.

Kurt's round eyes smiled that time, and he bent to kiss the top of Blaine's head while Blaine sucked on his toes, "You always know how to make me smile." Kurt whispered into his gelled hair, and Blaine's heart thumped unusually hard, "Even when I feel so close to crying. But don't make such a fuss, Blaine. Someone might see. They're only feet, and you'd look rather odd kissing on them to onlookers."

Blaine laughed against the pad of Kurt's foot, and Kurt jumped at the vibrations on his sensitive skin, "You're always so decent, angel. But you are very wrong, and that's unusual for you. First of all, I don't care if someone sees. Your feet are perfect and deserve to be treated as such. And, they're not just feet, Kurt. Every part of you is so stunning and sexy, and your feet are soft and delicate. They turn me on."

When Blaine dragged Kurt's foot to his hard groin and pressed, Kurt laughed and tried tugging away from him to no feat. "Blaine, you're a silly man!" Kurt squealed, shrieking with laughter when Blaine swept his arm around Kurt and knocked him from his perch. Luckily, that was long after Pavarotti had hopped away for more exploring and wasn't jostled around with Kurt.

Kurt collided with Blaine and they both fell backwards, and Kurt instantly squirmed away from Blaine in favor of resituating himself. Blaine would have nothing of that. Climbing to his knees and prowling after Kurt, Blaine knelt at his feet and pulled a foot to his face. He swiftly lapped his tongue over the bottom and put a hand on Kurt's stomach to still his wriggling, and Kurt burst into the prettiest laughter Blaine had ever heard.

It made him forget pain.

Hooking Kurt's leg over his shoulder, Blaine leaned over Kurt and held his face just centimeters from Kurt's, their lashes brushing with every blink. He could feel Kurt's breath on his face and felt himself getting harder. Opening his mouth, Blaine stuck his tongue out and lapped it across Kurt's rosy, bottom lip, and Kurt quivered. His fragile hands moved to cup Blaine's face, and his thumbs stroked the stubble on his jaw. "You're amazing," Kurt murmured, lifting his head to touch their lips. Blaine quickly slipped an arm where Kurt's head had rested to cushion him, and he eagerly returned the kiss, "and beautiful. _Beau, beau._"

Blaine smiled into his kiss, and he deepened it with a nudge, "Thank you," he poked his tongue at Kurt's, and Kurt responsively ran his tongue along the length of Blaine's. "Listen, Hummel—"

Kurt's lips immediately stiffened, and he parted from Blaine with a pop. Checking over Blaine's expression, he realized Blaine was playing with him and his brows arched, "Hummel? Not a very romantic endearment, Blaine Anderson."

"Like I said," Blaine stroked Kurt's chin, "I love every part of you, Hummel. You have a very pretty last name, like those Hummel collector, porcelain dolls. It suits you. I'd be happy to take it as mine one day. But… really, Kurt. I need you to know something. Until you tell me to go away, you don't have to cry alone. You'll always have my shoulder. No matter what happens, we're always going to be here for each other."

Kurt nodded and started to sit up, pushing Blaine back on his heels, and Kurt reached to hold their hands between them. "I agree… except one thing that you're wrong about. I would never tell you to go away." Scooting toward Blaine, Kurt placed his hands on his shoulders and pressed until Blaine went easy under him and collapsed on the floor, leaving Kurt on top. He had nothing to say, but he made his point very clear as he nestled his lips into Blaine's, kissing him with every bit of energy in his body.

Groaning, Blaine sought the backs of Kurt's thighs and squeezed firmly, then searched for his round globes. Perfect, little arse that he wanted so badly. While he placed his hands on it and fought to wiggle his finger underneath the waistband of Kurt's capris, Kurt anxiously whimpered and reached for his zipper. He tugged it open then pawed at his button, and that came free. Blaine yanked the capris away from his arse and his hands slipped into Kurt's spankies, and a loud moan burst from his lips as warm ass and Kurt's silky skin spilled into his palms.

"Blaine," Kurt hissed, covering Blaine's noisy mouth with his own. "Quiet, quiet—"

"You feel _so _good!" Blaine shrieked, "I've missed you!"

Rolling Kurt onto his back with a bump of his thigh, Blaine grinded his hips into Kurt's and swiveled them. Kurt helplessly rutted while Blaine sloppily rubbed his lips over Kurt's mouth. Succumbing to Blaine's seduction, Kurt went limp in his arms and his hand crept to Blaine's stomach. Blaine growled at the touch of Kurt's hand even through the fabric of his shirt, and, even worse, when Kurt's fingers caressed under his shirt, an animalistic whine rumbled from his throat.

Kurt wasn't deterred by the grunting and barking coming out of Blaine; in fact, it might have encouraged him to stroke up Blaine's chest to a red nub. He flicked his nail over the pointed nipple, and a harsh wail ripped out of Blaine. Blaine's entire body convulsed as Kurt dotted and peppered his face and neck in kisses. Kurt licked his way down Blaine's brown neck to the hollow of his throat, and he opened his lips on Blaine's neck and sucked like he permanently wanted to mark him with a purplish hickey.

It wasn't as if Blaine didn't want Kurt's kiss tattooed on him, either.

Kurt's cheeks hollowed out he suckled so firmly, his fingers still pinching Blaine's nipples, and Blaine wasn't far from being totally engrossed. Writhing underneath Kurt, Blaine's hands tightened on Kurt's ass cheeks, and he lifted one to slap a pink orb. Kurt jerked, his hips popping. A mewl rang from his parted lips, and his pink tongue traced Blaine's throat.

Blaine was done.

Exploding, Blaine arched from the ground and screamed, his come shooting out of him and wetting his jeans and boxers. Kurt also followed him, digging down into Blaine and holding on tight as their bodies shuddered and twitched.

It took a few moments for the two of them to gain their breath back and come down from their stupors, their thighs still sawing and their hips spasming every couple of seconds. But they felt good, which was something they hadn't been able to say for a while.

Curling into Blaine's chest, Kurt shuddered and smiled, appeased, "You're right. This is most certainly something to miss."

Blaine chuckled, his body rumbling under Kurt's, "I can't wait to have you naked again, little love. You are the most pleasuring, little vixen I've ever held in my arms. You're not very shy anymore. I've been a bad influence on you."

Kurt looked up at him with big, blue eyes, his face glowing. He opened his mouth to assure Blaine that he'd been well ravished into nothing more than a tease, but before he had a chance to let Blaine in on what he was already well aware of, Blaine's mouth clamped over his, and the two rolled across the floor until their shoulders bumped a wall.

It was a long time before either parted for a breath, both of them so happy.

They wanted to relish it.

After some time, Kurt hummed and Blaine shouted in pleasure, the pair reaching their highs again and again.

* * *

"Blaine?" Kurt lifted his nose from Patti LuPone's new book, and he crossed his legs while his brows furrowed.

Grumbling, Blaine pushed up the bar with twenty five pound weights on either end of it and it clinked heavily as he set it down on the hooks. He panted and bent for his bottle of water to squirt it in his mouth, then narrowed his eyes at Kurt. "Yeah, babe?"

Kurt hopped up from his seat on a cushioned bench and skipped across the room, plopping into Blaine's lap. Blaine wrapped his sweating arms around Kurt and tugged him to his bare chest, his heart pounding against Kurt's elbow. Kurt pointed at his book, "What is this word?"

Blaine looked at it for a moment, "Extraordinary," he sprayed his water again, watching Kurt slowly sound the word out on his tongue as he examined what it looked like.

Kurt flicked his eyes to the next word, and immediately there was a scrunch to his nose. He burrowed into the book, verbally mouthing, "Spec… Spec…" He gave up, then pointed again, "And this one?"

Blaine grinned, "Spectacular, just like you. Baby, you'll give yourself a headache reading like that. You should have just asked me to pick up the French translation."

"But I'd like to get better at my English," Kurt pouted, running his fingers over the book, "I think I speak it well. It's the… reading… that troubles me. It's embarrassing never being able to read signs or write notes in class. I'd like to be able to be normal, Blaine, and not feel so… left behind… when it comes to reading and writing in English."

"Oh, sweetheart," Blaine ran his hand over Kurt's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "you have nothing to feel embarrassed about. You speak and read English better than half the kids at McKinley. I'll help you translate whenever you need me to. You don't need to stress so much."

"Sometimes…" Kurt sighed, wrapping his arms around his knees after he pulled his legs up onto the weight bench, "I don't feel smart enough to learn it. I've spent quite a few months in Ohio and I'm still not catching on."

"Kurt, you're the smartest person I've ever met," Blaine hugged him warmly, "If your intelligence is anything like your beauty, then you have nothing to worry about."

Kurt flushed and stroked Blaine's jaw, "Your flattery is impressive, Blaine Anderson. Warming me up for something you want?"

Blaine chuckled, but he didn't say a word. The devious glint in his eye told Kurt everything.

In the background, the creaking of the locker room door swinging open startled them both into turning their heads and distracted them from batting their lashes and smirking at each other. A fond smile curved Kurt's lips as Finn strode into the room, and he waved his hand, "Hello, Finn—"

Finn's face turned a deep purple, and he jabbed a finger at the two on the bench, "What the hell is your problem?"

The playfulness left as suddenly as it came, and Kurt recoiled into Blaine. "Shh…" Blaine soothed him, winding his arms around Kurt, then he looked at Finn as if he was absurd, "What are you talking about? I haven't done anything! And do you mind not talking that way in front of him?"

Rolling his eyes, Finn crossed his arms over his chest, "Oh, as if you have no idea. But, you're right, Blaine! You haven't done _anything!_ I just got here ten minutes ago because I was helping out at the house, and I find out that you put _Puck_ in charge of this? Why did you even stay at the school if you're not going to care enough to take responsibility in the first place? You're lucky Figgins isn't here, or else he would have docked us a day and assumed we were giving up on this Booty Camp. You know, I thought you actually started to love glee club enough to want it to continue. And, Kurt, why haven't you said anything?"

Blaine's body stiffened, and he drew his lips over his teeth, "Don't you dare bring him into this. He has nothing to do with being in charge of the football week. It was my decision to put Puck in charge because he actually wants to do it, and I do like glee club. Maybe I just hate the entire football team—"

"Schuester put you in charge of this, though—"

"And I don't want to do it!" Blaine shouted, and Kurt covered his ears as he moved aside, not liking the idea of being in the middle of the battle. "What, you think I don't get tired of the constant ridicule? I got forced into something that puts me up as _bait,_ Finn! Is it not understandable that I don't want to stand in front of an entire group of people that make it very clear that I'm a total _fag?_"

"They don't think that, Blaine!"

Blaine rose to his feet, his body shuddering that not only was Finn challenging him but he'd also destroyed what little happiness Blaine had felt in weeks. "You'd be the most naïve person in the world to deny that. I put Puck in charge. I didn't skip out. They can't dock us a day just because I wasn't standing in front of them and shouting orders."

Finn made a gesture with his hand, "But what about when Figgins finds out that you're letting Kurt and Santana sit out? Given that Santana has informed us that she won't be here the rest of the week because of Brittany, but Kurt can't keep this up. He needs to work just like everybody else."

"You can't make him do anything. If he's happy on the bench, so be it."

"Blaine, the entire glee club is counting on you!" Finn shrieked, stepping forward. Blaine immediately positioned himself to defend, so Finn moved back again. "You can't let it end just because you're scared to death of a football team and because Kurt needs pampered! I get it, Karofsky screwed up your entire view of people and you can't bare seeing Kurt unhappy, but _get over it and stop being so freaking cynical of people like you've been raped or something!_ You're acting like a total freak!"

That seemed to strike the wrong nerve, and Finn instantly realized he'd done wrong. Clapping a hand over his mouth, Finn shook his head, "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I—"

Blaine was too far gone by then, and forgetting that he and Finn were something like friends and that Kurt was watching them, he charged forward and rammed Finn into the lockers. There was a clash of metal and skin, and Finn cried out, or maybe that was Kurt. At that point, everything froze and there was only the quiet sound of breathing and the dull beating of hearts. Blaine's quivering hands took time to release Finn, and it wasn't until Finn lifted a hand to the back of his head and pulled it away that Blaine noticed the damage he'd done.

Blood dripped from Finn's fingers, a startled look upon his face as he studied it, but Blaine's expression was even worse. He tore off of Finn and bumped into Kurt, who had gotten to his feet once Finn had hit the lockers. Blaine whipped away from Kurt, who called after him when Blaine darted toward the exit and the locker room door slammed shut behind him.

"Blaine!" Finn shouted desperately, reaching out and touching nothing, then he looked at an alarmed Kurt who had his hands over his mouth and tears in his eyes. "Kurt, I didn't—"

Kurt wildly shook his head, releasing his face and spinning away. In a matter of seconds, the locker room doors were thrown open, and then slapped shut again. He could hear Kurt screaming for Blaine as he went, but Blaine never responded.

* * *

Blaine wasn't sure how far he ran, or where he ran to. All he knew was that it was nighttime, and he was alone. He couldn't get it out of his head, one or the other, Ryder's face right after he punched him, or Finn's face after he knocked him into the lockers. They were both the same, that doe-eyed, distrusting expression of shock. Not that it surprised Blaine any.

Then again, he thought he was doing alright for a while. He hadn't Slushied, insulted, or hurt anyone since he met Kurt. He thought he could start over with Kurt's help. And then Finn had pushed him, mocked Kurt, harassed him about one of his vulnerabilities, and then mentioned rape. That was when Blaine snapped.

Maybe this was just proof of what he'd already guessed at several times. Karofsky had done his damage, and there was no going back. He was dangerous, and it scared him that one day Kurt might provoke him, and he would never be the same if he acted out violently against Kurt. He had a horrible temper, and it took little to egg him on.

Perhaps it was time he distanced himself from Kurt, but he didn't want to.

He had no idea of what to do with himself.

* * *

Finn put his hand on Kurt's lower back as he led him up to the door of their emptying house, furniture still decorating the lawn and most of the windows darkened. It no longer felt like home to Kurt, and it devastated him. Opening the door for Kurt, Finn nudged him inside and the two found Burt and Carole making do with lawn chairs and microwavable dinners at the TV set.

Managing a smile for them, Finn hung his coat on the rack and helped Kurt with his, and Kurt immediately started wandering dazedly toward his bedroom door. "Hey, kiddos," Burt said through a mouthful of Chinese noodles, "why are you guys so late?"

"And where's Blaine?" Carole added as an afterthought, then pursed her lips, "Oh, honey, the Packers scored another one! Shoot!"

"Trouble with Booty Camp," Finn lied, as he knew they'd spent the last three hours roaming the entire of Lima for Blaine, who seemed to have vanished. They both had made their cell phones go dead with calling him, and when nighttime had fallen, Finn had decided that was enough for the day, and that Blaine would come home on his own. Kurt had fought him tooth and nail and cried the entire way home, but Finn saw that there was nothing more they could do. "Blaine's staying after to help a few guys with their throws."

"At nine o'clock?" Burt chuckled, but showed no signs of true doubt. "Alright. I hope he's not out too late. Dinner's on the stove. Kurt, Carole picked up a salad for you."

When Kurt didn't reply and didn't even start to head toward the kitchen, Finn towed him in that direction and covered for him, "Thanks, guys. We're kind of tired from working today so we're going to head in early."

"Okay," Burt barely looked away from the screen, but that's all the time it took for him to notice the gaping gash of red on the back of Finn's close-cut head. For the first time ever, he wished he had long hair to hide the wound. "Hey, Finn, what's going on with your head, buddy?"

Finn froze, but Kurt didn't bother and continued on his way to his bedroom, and then Carole murmured, "Finn, honey, you're bleeding. Was everything okay today?"

"I… hit my head." Finn muttered, "Yeah, me and the guys were roughhousing and I got smacked up pretty good, huh?" Finn knew what this meant to Kurt and Blaine. Kurt had already begged him about a thousand times not to tell that Blaine had done it, because they both knew that if Burt thought Blaine was violently hurting family he'd be on the streets before Kurt could even beg his dad for him to stay. So he decided to keep his mouth shut for the sake of his little brother and his closest friend.

"Huh," Burt stroked his jaw, "Be careful, buddy. You'll give yourself a concussion. Kurt, how was your day?"

Kurt turned his tear-streaked face and nipped his worried, bottom lip, when the sound of footsteps on the walkway out front alerted him. His face washed of color, and then there were keys in the lock and the door pressed open carefully. An Armani shoe slid inside and Kurt suddenly darted across the room, flinging himself into Blaine. Blaine nearly fell backwards at the force but swiftly caught Kurt as Kurt smothered his face in kisses, "Oh, Blaine! Don't ever do that again! You frightened me so much!"

While Burt cleared his throat uncomfortably, Carole tilted her head, "Do what?"

Burt seemed so involved in that moment, too involved, "Blaine, what happened to your hands? What is going on with you three? You're acting funny."

Kurt peeled slightly away from Blaine, and he gasped at the sight of blood dribbling down his scraped palms, maroon pools under his broken fingernails. Remaining silent, Blaine drew Kurt into his arms again and Kurt went weak against his chest, and his golden eyes flashed over to Finn. As if it were only he and Finn in the room, Blaine whispered, "Did I hurt you too badly?"

Finn's mouth fell open wide, and he tensed up as Burt leaned forward in his chair, "Hurt you?" he repeated, stunned at Blaine's wording, "Blaine, what the hell are you talking about? Were you and Finn goofing around and he hit his head?"

"No, Burt," Finn quickly blurted, "I mean, Blaine was… in the group of guys messing around… that's what he means… He didn't hit me!"

"Can I hear the truth?" he muttered, staring each of them down before focusing on Finn. Burt knew the group of boys well and who would break first. As expected, Blaine didn't admit anything either way and went about checking over Kurt that he was okay, while Kurt snuggled into Blaine and refused to disclose that Blaine had attacked Finn.

Finn, the pleaser, however, was a different story.

After a moment of struggling, Finn blurted, "We weren't goofing around but I upset him first! Burt, it's okay! I shouldn't have been saying the things I did to him and—"

Burt's eyes snapped over to Blaine, "Is that true, that you hit him hard enough to leave that kind of mark?"

Blaine's expression didn't change, his finger steadily tracing up and down the line of Kurt's back, and Kurt nuzzled into Blaine's chest even deeper. "I pushed him into the lockers. I didn't directly leave that mark."

Carole's mouth dropped open, and she turned to Finn, "Oh, sweetie…"

No one bothered asking what Finn might have said to Blaine to provoke him.

Burt closed his eyes, and he hummed to himself before muttering, "You know, I always thought there was something about you that I wasn't hearing or seeing. You're not normal, Blaine. You may or may not have a violent past. All us guys have punched around, huh? But I don't want this in my house. Ever since you and Kurt started this… relationship… my son hasn't been acting like himself. You're both secretive, neither of you talk to me anymore. Blaine, I'm only going to say this once, and it kills me that I have to. If I ever hear about you hurting someone I love again—and, I swear, if it's Kurt, I might have to shoot you—you're going to have to leave. You're an emotional nightmare, that's obvious enough, but if it starts to get physical, I won't put up with it. So, I'm done here. We're spending tomorrow working on the new house. Rest up tonight. Goodnight, all of you."

Without a word, Blaine stepped away from Burt and started tugging Kurt toward the basement, past a rigid Finn who threw them apologetic glance, when Burt clicked his tongue, "Kurt, I want you to stay up here for a minute. Blaine, Finn, get to bed."

Kurt stopped at the top of the stairs, and with a pleading gaze at Blaine who nudged him away encouragingly, Kurt looked over his shoulder at his dad. Burt motioned with his finger, "Come on over here."

Hesitantly, Kurt padded across the floor and stopped at his dad's chair, and Burt tugged him down onto the armrest, "You want to tell me some stuff?"

Kurt shook his head. "There's nothing to say."

"I think you've got a lot on your mind," Burt countered, stroking Kurt's shoulder, "Can you tell me what happened today? Why Blaine hurt Finn? Those two are best friends, and I expect more out of them."

"Because Finn hurt Blaine," was all Kurt said, his eyes staring ahead blankly.

"Did Finn touch on some hard subjects for Blaine?" Burt assumed, and Kurt briefly nodded his head. "Blaine's had a rough time, hasn't he? Listen, bud, I don't want to punish either of you, so I need you to be more honest and open. If Blaine needs help, let me know. I'll get him what he needs to get better. You know I love both of you… but you and Finn are my sons. I can't have either of you getting hurt."

"I understand," Kurt whispered, his hands folding and unfolding in his lap, "but you'll do none of us any favor if you make Blaine leave. I want you to know that if you did I would go with him. I'm an adult now, and I'm making adult decisions, and no matter where Blaine goes, I'd go with him." He finally looked at his dad, and he murmured, "Blaine is a part of this family, Dad, and you don't just kick family out when times are hard. You love them and support them. Blaine and I have plans to marry one day, and I expect you to treat Blaine with the respect that you would any son or daughter-in-law."

Burt laid his hand over his son's, and he muttered, "You put up a fight, I'll give you that. I just want you safe, Kurt, whatever you choose. I'd be happy to take Blaine as a son-in-law, as long as he treats you and your family right."

Kurt looked as if he knew something that Burt didn't, "Blaine has been and will be the glue of this family, Dad. What he needs is a chance to show who he truly is because he is amazing."

* * *

Blaine laid flat on the mattress of his bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Pavarotti's quiet purring from his perch on Kurt's pillow. Nothing made sense anymore, not since he'd destroyed everything he built up. _An emotional nightmare…_ How terrible was he that even Burt called him that? Had he not changed at all? Was he the same man he used to be when he was firmly under Karofsky's rein?

What if he hadn't changed at all?

He didn't know what terrified him more, finding out he was just as he used to be or learning that within a few months' time he'd only changed the slightest bit, and that he still had years more of progress to go before he undid the damage that Karofsky had done to him?

Hearing the bedroom door crack open and the soft thumping of feet on the stairs, Blaine cracked his eyes and lifted his head to find Kurt emerging through a mere slit of light from the moonlight cascading through their window. "Kurt—" he started, but Kurt swiftly crossed the floor and put a finger to his lips.

"Shh," he whispered, standing straight again, and without further ado, tugged his shirt off his body. It was a graceful process that Blaine enjoyed watching, his hands seeking the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head, then he carelessly dropped it to the floor.

He turned away and toyed with the zipper of his capris, his fingers tugging the front of them apart then shimmying them down his thighs. They pooled around his ankles, and soon after his spankies followed. Kurt stepped out of them and kicked them aside, then turned to Blaine completely naked. He was glorious.

Kurt placed one knee on the bed and sank in, then the other and fell across Blaine. More exposed than ever, Kurt spread his legs and straddled Blaine, his hands coming to Blaine's and their fingers linking. "Wait, I'll get blood on you—" Blaine admonished, tugging his hands away.

"You have beautiful hands," Kurt bowed over Blaine's left hand and nuzzled his lips into his palm, kissing away the drying blood, "You've never been told how beautiful you are, have you?"

"_Kurt,_" Blaine writhed and arched, "what are you up to? Get your nightclothes on. You can't be acting this way—"

Kurt, to his surprise, denied him and took his face in his hands, "You're the most gorgeous man, Blaine. You're perfect."

"No, I'm not—"

Kurt ignored him and suddenly reached for Blaine's zipper, yanking it down without a second thought. "You're the love of my life and the man I dreamed about marrying since I was young. As I got older I had wet dreams about a man. I never saw his face or heard his voice, just knew that his hands were so strong and he pleasured me so magnificently, but now I know. I know that you're my soul mate, the man of my dreams."

"Kurt, _please,_" Blaine struggled to escape his needy lover's hands when they delved into his zipper to fish for his pulsating cock, "you need rest. You always get so emotional when something terrible happens. You're out of your headspace right now."

Kurt sat back on his heels, his face pink and drenched with tears. His lips trembled, "I am. I'm out of my mind in love. So, take me, Blaine. I don't want you to hold back. I could have chosen any man, Blaine. I could be in anyone's arms right now. Considering how they talk about me in the media, I'm anyone's pick. But I chose you, Blaine, because I love you and I need you. I may sound mad right now, and that's because I am. I can't stand the thought of losing you, not to being kicked out of our home, or to another man, or to Karofsky's wicked hands. You're mine and I need you to return the favor. Make love to me, Blaine. I'm giving myself to you, Blaine, so take me how you've always desired. Make me yours so that no other man can have me. I know how you long for me, to stay inside me forever, and the way you touch yourself and think of me. Don't you see how I need and want your touch? So, touch me."

Blaine had been stunned stiff at Kurt's admittances, so Kurt took it upon himself to grasp his hand and bring it to his naked ass. Kurt moaned at the touch, and Blaine lost it. He'd never seen Kurt this dominating before, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't so, so turned on. Tugging Kurt's head down to his, Blaine almost painfully smashed their lips together, and he pushed his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs and bent his knees to expose his puckered hole and testicles. He grasped his steel cock in his fist, twining it through his fingers and giving himself one stroke to hold himself steady.

"_Oh…_" Kurt moaned, lifting his ass from farther down on Blaine's thighs. He didn't bother with getting stroked and opened first, and held himself just inches above Blaine's throbbing cock.

"Take it easy, baby," Blaine grumbled, and released his stiff cock as Kurt's ass lowered. The tip wedged up against Kurt's scrotum, and Kurt flushed and closed his eyes as the pre-cum soaked his sac.

Blaine repositioned himself and pushed up on Kurt's hole, and a small whimper slipped from Kurt while he was stretched wide. "Shh…" he watched Kurt's determined face fall apart, and before Blaine knew it he was staring at an uncertain and bashful Kurt once again. "Easy, baby. Easy. Move your hips a little."

Kurt wiggled and another inch of Blaine slipped into Kurt, and Kurt's face blushed rosily, a pretty pink blooming on his creamy skin. His fingers dug into Blaine's shirt, his lips pursing. "This feels marvelous…" he murmured, and Blaine ground another two inches into him. Kurt's mouth fell open.

"You are amazing, little love," Blaine reached up to stroke Kurt's small, furrowed face. "Tell me what to do."

"You can move a little," Kurt opened his blue eyes and Blaine went under at his striking gaze, his hips pumping up and down inside of Kurt.

There was a sucking sound as Blaine pushed himself deeper, and Kurt collapsed over him and their two mouths met. Cupping one hand over Kurt's ass, Blaine stroked him and completely engulfed himself in Kurt's warmth, his walls squeezing as if to hold on to Blaine forever. Kurt made a broken sound of mewling and his face flushed bright red. Blaine brushed Kurt's sweet spot again. "Come for me, angel," Blaine whispered in Kurt's ear, smoothing his hair, and that was all the praise it took for Kurt to close his eyes, a sexy sound slipping out of him as he leaked on Blaine's chest. "So beautiful…"

Kurt squeezed around Blaine as he finished, which sent Blaine over the edge. Blaine convulsed and the bed shook with his climax, his come dripping out of Kurt's asshole as he sprayed.

Exhausted and satiated when they both came back to themselves, they crumpled to the bed and Kurt curled into a tiny ball, his cheek on Blaine's chest. "Tell me how mad with love you are, angel," Blaine whispered into his dark blond hair, and he felt Kurt smile against his heart.

"Mad enough to fall for a scoundrel like you, my love."


	45. I Won't Give Up

Author's note: Merry Christmas, Klainers! I updated tonight just so I could say that *w* Tonight will be the last night I update on my main computer, as tomorrow I'm getting my own laptop which means more frequent updates! I wrote on my old laptop so much that it now sits dusting away on my chair, totally dead :/ So, hopefully I won't overwork this one but I probably will. Anyway, just thought I'd mention a little of my personal life because I can, but my brother is home on leave for Christmas :D I know a few of you have asked about him so... there's my update on him! As always, I would like to thank all of you fabulous readers for your unending support! Every review/favorite/alert/PM/poll answer makes me smile :) Annnnd, big surprise here, thanks to my perfect and wonderful beta, JMarieAllenPoe. All of you can look her up and I'm sure she'd be ecstatic to help with any stories, but she doesn't have her own account and we've been talking about a Klaine!fish!crackfic that she's planning on writing. If or when she does, I will be posting it on my account because her computer isn't private, so in case I do put it up I hope all of you read it! She's a fantastic writer! :D Okay, done with the babble so carry on with the story! Love all of you and enjoy! Fluffy Klaine throughout! Also, Kurt gets a new, sweet petname so... cute! :3 (Warning - mentions of "child" abuse/suicide. Do not read in case of trigger.) Wow, what a terrible way to end an author's note... Sorry about that...

Disclaimer: I'm giving up on these.

* * *

"Why are you such a hard-ass, Blaine?"

Kurt's head snapped up from one of the hundreds of boxes on the living room floor, and he released the sticky tape as he watched the kitchen door carefully. As expected, the scraping of a chair on the linoleum was the only response Finn got, followed by clunking boots. The door swung open, revealing a stern Blaine who glanced once in his direction then continued out of the house and onto the lawn to join the workers unloading the vans.

Finn, who had been abandoned at the kitchen table, scoffed and jumped from his seat. He tore into the living room and threw open the door that Blaine had just walked out of, shouting, "Blaine! Come on! I'm trying to apologize—"

Realizing he was still under Finn's attention, Blaine turned his back on him and moved across the lawn, ducking beds being hauled toward the house, and slipping around dressers being dragged through the grass. Finn narrowed his eyes and snorted, slamming the door and whipping away from it. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I said I was sorry. Kurt, can you talk some sense into him? He won't listen to me!"

Kurt's brows arched and he briefly looked back down at his box of things that went in his dad's bedroom, then he pushed the box away and murmured, "You have nothing important to say, Finn. That's why he won't listen."

Finn looked at him as if he was insane, "_What?_ I've spent the last ten minutes grappling with him and practically kissing his ass and now you're telling me it wasn't enough? What does he want, flowers?"

"Finn." Kurt chided, pulling a new box from the ones he hadn't sorted through yet, "You must respect him."

When Kurt silenced himself and busied his fingers with yanking tape off the box, Finn fathomed that he wasn't going to be receiving any more help with the impossible Blaine. So, he resorted to an apology to Kurt, as well, who luckily didn't hold grudges as easily. "Look… I'm sorry. It's just been so long since I've been around him and I don't know how to handle him anymore. All my friends just take a slap on the back and a shoulder shake and everything's forgotten."

Kurt looked up again, "Finn, you cannot treat Blaine as you have. Calling him those crude names, aggressively approaching him and asking for a heart-to-heart. It won't help. What he needs is emotion… and he needs to feel like you mean what you say. And then he needs to come to his own terms. You can't chase after him all day expecting forgiveness. Blaine can be the most loving man if you don't provoke him. I know him well and know his capabilities and weaknesses, so follow my advice."

Finn moaned and threw himself down on the only couch in the room, his head lolling back on the cushions, "He used to be so much easier to apologize to."

They both went about their own quiets, Kurt peeling apart the flaps on the box he'd been working with then pushing it toward another three boxes almost the same size as it, and Finn propping his feet up and longing after the TV still stored away in one of the moving trucks. Now his source of entertainment was a small bird bundled in one of the boxes with Blaine's clothes, a sleeve of Blaine's jacket in his mouth and the entire box rumbling from his purring.

After a time, Kurt set a new box aside and reached for another, and that was when he spoke, "Finn… what was Blaine like…" He didn't have a good word to describe what he was trying for, so he hoped Finn knew what he was getting at, "before?"

Finn opened his eyes, and Kurt almost felt bad for interrupting what appeared to be the starts of a nap, but he just had to know and couldn't ever ask Blaine about it. If Blaine hadn't told him yet, he probably didn't want him to know.

Finn shrugged a shoulder, flipping his shoes off, "I dunno. Just a regular guy, I guess. A lot like me and Puck. Not a lot to say about that."

So, Finn knew exactly what he was talking about.

Nodding his head, Kurt burrowed back into his work and barely lifted his head to check out the window. Blaine seemed to be ignoring everyone out there, keeping to himself and helping in the process of unloading the trucks from behind the scenes. He also didn't look like he was coming in any time soon, so before he could stop himself, the question he'd always wanted an answer to blurted out of him, "And what about during?"

Finn peeped through the small slit his eyelids made, and he rolled onto his side to face a guilty Kurt. His thin brows furrowed, his throat hollowing out as he cleared it, "What do you mean? When Blaine and Karofsky were still…" He didn't finish that sentence.

Kurt nodded, "Yes. What was he like?"

"He hasn't talked to you?"

Kurt shook his head, "_Oui et non…_ I know about his junior year. Everybody does, but what about… before that?"

Finn glanced back at the door, then to the window, and finally at his little brother. Kurt had stopped touching the boxes altogether, his focus entirely on Finn. He must have really wanted this. "There has to be a reason why he won't talk to you, then." Finn admitted, just as Kurt had guessed. "Listen… Kurt… if I talk to you, you can't ever talk to Blaine about it. Blaine's freshman and sophomore years… Nobody likes to think back on what happened."

"What do you mean?"

Slowly sitting up on the couch, Finn pursed his lips and patted the spot beside him, "Come here." Once Kurt rose to his feet and padded across the room, Finn pulled his brother right onto his hip and wrapped an arm around him, and Kurt crossed his legs. "Blaine and Karofsky met freshman year. Puck and I thought it was cool at first, you know? New guy in town who loved football and parties… That was awesome to us. We had him over a few times for our sleepovers, and just to hang out, and he was cool at first. But… eventually we noticed Blaine starting to distance himself. We talked to him about it and everything, but we could get nothing out of him. About a month into hanging out with Karofsky, Karofsky started pulling Blaine aside and making up lies about how we offended him or insulted him or something." He made a face of disgust and rolled his eyes, "We didn't but they both stopped coming to sleepovers, and they wouldn't hang out, either. They started eating lunch outside, and Blaine would avoid us in the hallways." Finn paused to make a circling gesture with his hand, and he pushed his lips to one side of his face, "At the end of the year, Karofsky approached Puck and me and told us to leave Blaine alone—that he wanted nothing to do with us. Puck and I hadn't stopped trying to get Blaine back to himself, but… we didn't want to start anything so we… dropped it, the friendship… everything. We were done fighting for something that wasn't going to happen."

Finn swallowed and fought to gain his breath back, and he shifted slightly against an absorbed Kurt, "Summer came and we didn't hear from Blaine once. We… eventually caved because we were going insane over losing him, and we tried calling him a few times. Once we got his dad and he told us that Blaine wasn't available, but other than that we never saw him. Our sophomore year started up and Blaine was there, but he wasn't… Blaine. He looked… awful. He'd grown his hair out and lost about thirty pounds. Besides Karofsky he wouldn't speak to anyone. Karofsky and Blaine got into a fight immediately after school started, because it turned out that Blaine had been hiding that he got an afterschool counselor. Karofsky didn't like that Blaine wasn't sharing a part of his life with him, and when he found out because Blaine switched over to the school counselor at lunchtime, he blabbed all over school that Blaine was such a fag and a crybaby. Well… Blaine heard and he… quit counseling and there was this big fight after school between him, Karofsky and some of the football players. He got hurt… badly… because Karofsky stabbed him… alot… with a shard of glass… and he stopped coming to school for a while.

"He got back a month later and nothing happened for a while. Somehow, he just slipped back in beside Karofsky and no one thought anything of it. But I noticed for a long time both of them were coming to school bruised and bashed each morning, and they seemed to be constantly arguing. Karofsky was frustrated that Blaine wouldn't cower down to him, so he started saying these petty insults and spreading them all over school. People believed him and started mocking Blaine and Blaine lost his self-esteem. And just like that, the bruises and fighting stopped. Around winter time, I really started worrying for Blaine because he wasn't acting like himself… or how he used to be. He was so secretive, and he was taking his bag to the bathroom every lunch period and he'd spend the longest amounts of time in there. What I did… was very wrong, Kurt. I got so afraid that he was doing something harmful in there, so I went through his bag. I found anti-depressants and went to find Blaine to talk to him, but Karofsky caught up with me along the way when he noticed I had Blaine's bag. He figured it out on his own that the anti-depressants were Blaine because I obviously wasn't taking them, and he didn't do anything at school but… Blaine quit coming for months and I assume it was because of something Karofsky said to him.

"Later on… a rumor was started about Blaine… while he was still… away. Luckily, only a few people know about it and—" Finn paused, suddenly remembering who he was jabbering on to, and then withdrawing from Kurt. "No, I can't. This is Blaine's privacy—he doesn't want you knowing these things, Kurt. I've talked too much about it… Just don't tell Blaine."

When Finn wriggled from underneath Kurt, Kurt lashed out and snatched his wrists, "Wait!" he pleaded, "Tell me! What was the rumor—?"

Finn jerked away from a swollen-eyed Kurt, his pink lips damp from his tongue swiping them and the tip of his nose a cherry color. He really was bothered by how beautiful Kurt was. "It's just a rumor, Kurt. I don't even know if it's true. Like when everyone was calling you a slut—it's not true. You don't need to worry about it."

At the rejection—something Finn doubted Kurt had ever experienced before—Kurt's eyes filled and his bottom lip quivered, "Finn, Blaine might be my future husband! Don't I deserve to know? Do not tell me I don't. He knows everything of me, Finn, and I barely know what he was like as a child. I'm putting my foot down and demanding you continue."

Finn's eyes widened slightly. Had Kurt always been this bold, or was Blaine rubbing off on him? Shaking his head, Finn rubbed his temples and remained standing, not sure if he had it in him to not bolt at Kurt's first tears. "Kurt… I don't want you thinking less of him because of a stupid rumor. I don't doubt that Blaine's good to you, and he has changed, so don't… don't freak out."

Kurt raised a brow, daring him to question him any more of his loyalty to Blaine, "I will not. What is it?"

"Fine," Finn sighed and considered that he had lost the battle, "Karofsky… started a rumor that Blaine attempted suicide with a knife."

Kurt's composed face fell apart in seconds, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. In his panic a ramble of French words fell from his lips, but he quickly switched over to English, "What a monster to tease so. That is a terrible rumor, and Blaine would have told me—he would have. He would trust me enough to take me in his arms and whisper in my ear that he—"

Kurt seemed to be forgetting that his older brother was beside him, so Finn cleared his throat before Kurt babbled too many explicit details, "Right. It's just a rumor, Kurt. And only Karofsky, Azimio and Brittany know."

"Brittany?" Kurt's brows furrowed. "How would Brittany have heard?"

Finn made a place for himself beside Kurt, and he bundled him in his arms, "Karofsky told Azimio first, and then I overheard Azimio trying to hit on Brittany and seem like he was involved in the rumor committee. As you probably know, Brittany loves to gossip. But Brittany didn't know what suicide meant, and thought that it had something to do with Blaine getting a cat, so she didn't talk to anyone about it. Not juicy enough, I guess." Kurt nipped his bottom lip and leaned into Finn's shoulder, resting a delicate hand on it, and he seemed to be thinking of something. After a moment of leaving Kurt alone, Finn soothingly stroked a fallen hair out of his eyes, "You okay, bro—Kurt?"

Kurt glanced at him and made a sound, "I guess I must be… because I can't let Blaine know, can I?"

Finn shook his head, "Don't tell him I talked to you. But… I mean… are _you_ okay? Blaine's life is a lot to take in, I know. He's so… much. So, you think you're alright?"

Kurt dipped his chin up and down and pressed his cheek into Finn's chest. "Yes," he whispered, his eyes drifting and glassing over beautifully, "I think so. It's only a rumor, and Blaine is better now. Thank you for talking to me, Finn. You are the best brother."

Finn flushed and ducked his head, almost unable to speak after the compliments, "It's nothing, Kurt. I'm happy to be here for you. Like I said, I want to be involved with you."

Only smiling at that, Kurt lapsed into quiet once more and suddenly Finn heard a pretty purring out of him, almost as if he was humming. His eyes closed and he looked near to falling asleep on Finn, so Finn swiftly wriggled his body free and jolted Kurt. Kurt's blue eyes popped open. "Sorry," Finn muttered, clearing his throat, "I just don't want Blaine to catch you sleeping on me. He gets jealous. You should lie down if you're tired."

Stretching his body one limb at a time, Kurt shook his head and rubbed his eyes, "No… it's much too early for sleeping. I suppose I'll get back to sorting. Where will you be?"

Finn pointed to the ceiling, "Upstairs. I'm choosing a color for my room. Will you be alright alone? I can hang out with you if you need someone to talk to."

"No, please," Kurt scooted away from him, "do as you need. I don't want to be a burden. Finn, before you make a final choice, though, come see me and I'll approve. It'd be best to consider blues or ivories. Those would be flattering to you."

Finn quirked one corner of his lips, heading for the stairs, "Thanks, Kurt. That narrows down my choices. You're really good at fashion, you know? Picking colors, fabrics, all of that."

Kurt gave him a smirk, "Not a very debatable claim, Finn."

Once Finn finally disappeared with a closing laugh on their conversation, Kurt sighed and put his chin on his hands, doing a brief count of the boxes he had left. He hadn't made much of a stride in picking through them before Finn and Blaine had their falling out, and he wondered if he'd make much more of one before Blaine returned.

He figured he might as well busy himself with something, though, so he got to his feet and stepped past Pavarotti's vibrating box, sparing his bird a single glance and an amused smile. "Silly bird," he cooed, and Pavarotti's eyes barely slit open before he tucked his head into his wing, exhausted just from watching everyone else work.

Kneeling by the group of boxes, Kurt chose a small one from the bottom of the stack and plopped onto his bottom. He noticed that a few scrambled letters were printed on the front, and he made out a couple of them, but the rest blurred into gibberish. Ignoring his frustrations with himself for not knowing those letters, Kurt peeled the top of the box open and saw that the only thing within was a small trinket, a picture of a lovely, dark haired woman modeling by a tree. She had catty, blue eyes and his smirk, her pink lips curved into a pair of dimples, just like him. He knew who she was, and the picture delighted him. "_Maman,_" he chirped at the familiar photo, cupping it in his hands and bringing it to his face to kiss the dusty glass. "_Mère,_ oh,_ Mère. _If you could see the life I've made myself. If only you could see him."

Boosting himself onto his feet, his butt resting on them, Kurt glanced around the room for a place for the picture. He spotted the fireplace, the main attraction in the family room. "_Oui,_" he decided happily, hopping to his feet and prancing over to his selection. He checked to make sure the mantel had been dusted then perched the picture in the perfect place. He curled his hands on his hips and stood back to admire his work. "There, _Maman,_" he whispered to her, "now whenever I come in here, I can always see you."

His brief and far-and-in-between moment of really focusing on his mom vanished when the door slammed behind him, and he peeked over his shoulder to find his dad peeling a jacket off his shoulders, "_Salut,_ Dad. How was the store?"

His dad lifted a bag, and he pointed to it just to make sure that Kurt was acknowledging it, "Got what you wanted—a pastel color palate, whatever the hell that is."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Kurt clapped his hands, "Now Blaine and I will be able to paint our room a color that we're both happy with!"

Burt rolled his eyes, waving his son off, "Kurt, you know Blaine would happy if you painted your room neon pink."

Kurt flushed at what he couldn't deny as the truth, and he twisted away to return to adjusting the picture. His dad wandered into the kitchen to unload his buys. After a few minutes, Kurt was aware of his dad lumbering back into the room and adjusting his belt, when suddenly Burt showed an interest in what Kurt was doing, "Hey… Kurt… what do you got there, buddy?"

Kurt proudly stepped aside to show off his find, "A picture of Mom, Dad. Wasn't she pretty in this one? Maybe we could have your wedding picture just a touch to the left of this one, and then on the right a picture of—"

"Kurt," Burt sounded concerned, and he wasn't sitting down yet, which caused Kurt a hint of concern, "no. No wedding pictures. What are you doing going through those boxes right there? I want those in storage."

Kurt released the picture he was constantly playing around with, angling in different directions and sticking his tongue out with concentration over, "Is that what those boxes said?" he murmured, flicking his eyes back to a few of the emptied boxes he had pulled old pictures of his mom from.

Burt groaned, walking across the room and approaching Kurt, "Kurt, don't play dumb. You know English, you're just trying to get your way. It's not happening this time. I've spoiled you too much and we're not arguing over this. Where'd you put the other pictures?"

Kurt pulled away from his dad, who held his hand out expectantly, taking his mom's picture with him, "But, Dad, why are all of those pictures of Mom?"

"Kurt, _don't._" Burt barked, his face turning a bright red. "Blaine's right outside, Finn's upstairs and Carole will be home soon. Do you want them seeing you throw a fit? You said the other night that you're an adult, so act like it—" When Burt lifted his eyes to Kurt's face, he moaned and covered his forehead with his palm, "No, absolutely not. You're not crying your way out of this one. Do you think adults act this way? They don't. We have a million other pictures. Put those around the house, but tell me where the ones I want in storage are."

Kurt shook his head, not bothering to blink away a tear flirting with his eyelashes then trickling down his flushed cheek, "No, these are of Mom. Why do you want them in storage, Dad?"

Tires rolled across the gravel outside, and someone honked. Both of them turned their heads to meet Carole's face through her windshield, and she waved at them as she bent to collect whatever groceries she had. Burt looked frantically at Kurt, half annoyed and half irate. "Kurt, _now._"

"No, it's of Mom." Kurt took another step back, his hands trembling as he clutched the picture to his pounding chest, his heart beating his rib cage.

"_Kurt—"_ Burt made a grab for the picture, and the next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. Kurt ripped it away from his dad, and he couldn't remember what he heard first, the door popping open and Carole's cheerful voice hollering at them or the blow to his face.

Crying out, Kurt dropped to the ground and instantly curled in on himself. He covered his ears as a sharp ringing burst in his head, and he wondered if something inside of him had ripped. He hurt so much, and he suddenly wanted Blaine to hold him and kiss him until he was better. Although he wasn't sure if he had started screaming or not, his own noises muffled by the shrill sound in his ear lobes, he seemed to have alerted someone as pounding footsteps jerked through his entire body, exaggerating the flames in his head to a point of almost unbearable agony.

"Hey!" he heard someone shout through his muffled ears, his hands squeezing them tight, "What the hell's going on? Kurt? Kurt!"

"I didn't—!" someone pleaded, "I didn't mean to! I just… snapped! Kurt, are you alright? Honey, I'm so sorry!"

The voices blended together in one aching blur in the front of his head, and he pressed his face into the carpet. He wanted to ask them to be quiet, to stop all the noises, and he might have, but he couldn't hear himself think, let alone talk.

Abruptly, another pair of feet treaded dangerously close to him, and a door slapped shut, but he was too focused on numbing the pain by burying himself in the carpet to drown out the escalating sounds to check on who it was. At first he thought the person would just be another shouting, ignorant pain to his headache, but suddenly all of his pain vanished when someone stroked his fingers over the back of his head. "Shh…" the person soothed, and Kurt assumed he must have whimpered, "there. I've got you, sweetheart. I'm right here."

Someone else started to pipe up again, and now that the voices were a little clearer Kurt thought it was Finn arguing what he had seen Burt do, but Kurt's rescuer all but snarled for him to shut his mouth.

Kurt went limp as his writhing body was lifted from the carpet and draped across a warm, hard chest, and he curled into it desperately. A pair of warm lips brushed a pattern over Kurt's stinging forehead, then a tongue lapped at his ear. "Don't cry," the man cooed, running his finger over Kurt's sticky eyelids, "you're okay now."

Kurt pinched the man's shirt in his fingers, "Blaine…" he sobbed, "Blaine, Blaine."

"Open your pretty, little eyes." The man whispered hotly against his eyelids, kissing them until Kurt's lashes fluttered. "I've got you, Kurt. Don't be afraid. Come on, open for me."

Kurt's lids lifted, exposing his brilliant, blue eyes, electrified by the saltiness of his tears. At first all he noticed was Blaine's face hovering so close to his, his dark skin highlighted by shadows and streaks of light. Then he turned his head a little to the left, and jumped at the sight of Finn bent over and narrowing his eyes at Kurt as if studying him. Carole was just behind him, her eyes wide with sympathy, with Burt beside her, absolutely emotionless.

Kurt wanted out of the room, so he swiftly lifted and held a hand to his head when it throbbed in response. At the screaming, Pavarotti must have climbed onto him in an attempt to comfort him, because he almost threw the tiny bird from his lap at the jerky movement. Overwhelmed by the situation and the amount of people looking at him as if he was just a little boy who had thrown a temper tantrum, Kurt pushed Blaine's chest and struggled to his feet, collecting Pavarotti as he went.

"Kurt—" Blaine took his hand, trying to calm him down, but before he could get another word out, Kurt darted out of his grip and up the stairs. Only moments later, they heard a door click shut.

"Kurt!" Blaine also launched to his feet, ignoring the gathered family jabbering to him about nonsense in favor of chasing Kurt.

Ignoring Finn who was following on his heels, Blaine stormed to the stairs and got about halfway up them when he realized Finn was just as into checking up on Kurt. He stopped only for a second and twisted around to face a wide eyed Finn, "No," he snapped, needing to be alone with Kurt, "get away."

Finn stumbled back a step, not wanting to face the wrath of Blaine.

Blaine continued up the stairs, his legs carrying him two steps at a time. He reached the top and jogged to the end of the hallway. His and Kurt's bedroom door was shut, and he didn't hesitate to spin the knob to no feat. "Kurt," he rapped his fist against the wood, "Kurt, open up. It's me."

"No," came the weak reply, followed by a sniffle, "you can't see me like this. Please, leave."

There was a quiet chirp and blankets rustling, but no footsteps padding on the carpet in the direction of the door. Blaine was furious, and he violently shook the knob. "Kurt! If you don't open this door, I'm breaking it down!"

Kurt didn't reply, so Blaine took a step back as he wondered if he really had it in him to break a door. From below he could hear muttering voices, Carole showing her concern and Finn spitting his anger at Burt, but other than that there was silence in the house. Suddenly, though, he could hear soft cries from behind the door, which told him everything he needed to know.

He was doing this the hard way, then.

Backing up about a foot, Blaine inhaled sharply and brought his foot up, then smashed it into the bottom of the door. The wood vibrated so spastically that even the wall around it trembled. From within, he heard Kurt shuffling around, "Blaine, wait! Don't kick the door!"

Sucking another breath, Blaine drew his foot up again and beat the exact place he had before, and the wood quivered in response.

"Blaine, stop it!"

Blaine closed his eyes and smashed the door once more, and that time there was a sharp, splitting sound and the door burst open, pieces of shattered metal falling to the floor. Reopening his eyes, Blaine reached out and opened the door the rest of the way, stepping over the busted lock and then attempting to shut the door behind him.

He lifted his gaze to Kurt's small face, eyes red and damp and his forehead scraped and bloody. His lips were puffy from the crying and one cheek was swollen and bruised. Blaine slid his eyes down Kurt's body, one curvy hip against the mattress with the other toward the ceiling. He helplessly licked his lips at the sight of his round butt pressing on the back of his navy, hourglass dress, wrinkling the fabric he was so tight.

Kurt flipped his body around so he faced Blaine, and he slid a leg off the edge of the bed. Blaine knew he wasn't trying to tease or seduce, but Blaine was a teenage boy with a sexy boyfriend writhing and needy on the bed. He would be a complete idiot to not focus all his attention on that leg.

Kurt gave him a face, his cheek brushing the pillow as he moved, "You just… broke our door."

Blaine returned himself to Kurt's face, even though he was damn well tempted to stare at that leg dangling off the bed, "Forget the damned door. Are you alright?"

Lifting his hand, Kurt touched it to his cheek and winced, "Does it look terrible? I was hoping I could put some makeup on it first and fix myself up but you're a very demanding man—"

"Kurt." Blaine paced himself across the floor, and he jumped onto the bed beside him. "I asked if you were alright, not if you could cover it up. Talk to me, honey. Let me take care of you." When Kurt tilted his head to retrieve Pavarotti, who was pawing at Kurt's thigh and chirping anxiously, Blaine growled at the sight of a pool of blood drying on a cut spot of skin. He slid off the bed and held a finger up when Kurt looked at him, troubled, "It's okay. I… Stay here. I'm going to wet a washcloth. I'll clean you up."

Blaine almost resented that he had to leave Kurt alone to find a bathroom, and he went across the hall to warm up the sink. Luckily, Kurt had already gotten around to filling their cabinets with cloths, soaps and a few bottles of lube, so he snatched a cloth and held it under the steaming water. As it heated, he glanced over to his open bedroom door and spotted Kurt curling up in the middle of the bed, Pavarotti held close to his face as he nuzzled the twittering bird.

He was the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen, pink faced and kissing on his happy, puffed up bird, a lovely laugh ringing from his mouth as Pavarotti returned the favor and playfully nipped his nose.

Blaine couldn't have loved him more.

When the cloth was heated and drenched, Blaine pulled it away and squeezed the water out of it, then carried it into their room. Blaine began to sit on the end of the bed and gesture for Kurt to come near, but Kurt swiftly climbed into a doggy position that had Blaine hard in seconds, his eyes captivated by Kurt's ass pointed at the ceiling.

"Wait," Kurt backed off the bed, still unaware of what he was doing to Blaine. "I don't want the sheets getting damp. I just did them nice and tidy."

"Okay," Blaine muttered, standing to follow him over to the mirrored dresser. Kurt sat in the chair and his eyes met his face in the mirror. There was an immediate quizzical expression about his face, and he leaned forward to touch his fingertips to the left side of his face in the mirror, the side that Burt had slapped.

Kneeling beside the chair, Blaine firmly tugged him around, and he pressed the cloth to his forehead. He dabbed the blood until it was a soft pink, but couldn't bring himself to stop touching Kurt. Kurt's eyes didn't waver from Blaine's concentrating face, nose wrinkled and lips pursed as he tried not to hurt him. Round, blue orbs focused entirely on him, pink lips parted, and cheeks rosy.

Dropping the cloth to the floor, Blaine bent and nudged his lips into Kurt's ankle. Kurt's toes flexed and he lifted his leg, and Blaine took it in his palms. He glided one up Kurt's thighs, taking the hem of his dress with it and exposing Kurt's lower half. Blaine kept his face pressed in Kurt's knee, and he pushed the leg up higher to get access to the bottom of his thigh.

Dipping down, Blaine swept his tongue along Kurt's silky skin, leaving a shiny path of saliva. He kissed up the trail, lips growing moist by his own hot breath and spit. Blaine worked his way down the leg, and his quivering hand grasped the other and lifted it up just as high. He noticed Kurt didn't have any spankies on, and all he could see within the dress was a pink sac drooping over a white ass.

He felt Kurt jump when he went for what he most desired, his lips puckering and finding Kurt's open hole. "Oh, _Blaine,_" Kurt hummed above him, his legs stiffening and spreading farther.

Blaine bumped his nose on Kurt's sac, his mouth sucking at Kurt's hole. He tightened his cheeks and buried his face in Kurt's ass, breathing in his personal perfume and getting so hard his cock brushed his zipper. Pointing his tongue, Blaine slid it between his teeth and touched it to Kurt's hole. Fuck, was he tight. He played around Kurt's opening and poked it a few times, watching him become redder and wetter with every lick.

He replaced his tongue in his mouth and pressed his drying lips to Kurt's hole again, his lips popping. Flattening his tongue out, Blaine opened and stuck it out. He covered Kurt's hole with his pink tongue, flicking it up and down Kurt's crack.

Kurt squeezed Blaine's shoulders and he released a noisy mewl, his teeth gritting together as Blaine tightened his tongue once more and urged the tip onto Kurt's hole. Sliding it against the dark red anus, Blaine growled when he slipped the tip inside. Kurt cried out and his muscles contracted. His ass almost lifted off the chair, his fingers clawing Blaine's shoulders.

Blaine wiggled his tongue around and another centimeter pushed into the tightness and, damn, did Kurt taste and smell like ass. He was almost gone.

Kurt shuddered around him and Blaine briefly flicked his eyes up to Kurt's destroyed face, his skin a deep pink and his lids squeezed shut. His lips were trembling and his throat was hollowing out with thick swallows. He wasn't too different from Blaine's situation, obviously.

Suckling on Kurt's ass, Blaine wedged his tongue deeper until his lips were flush to Kurt's soft skin, and with one hiss he stroked his tongue over the tiny nub radiating heat within Kurt. Kurt jolted and contracted, his muscles clenching Blaine's tongue and a spray of come soaking Blaine's gelled hair. Blaine exploded in his pants just at the sight of Kurt reaching his height of pleasure.

Both of them remained quiet while they came down from their ecstasies, Blaine's tongue still deep inside Kurt and Kurt with his head tilted toward the ceiling. Shiny layers of perspiration cooled on them, and Kurt's come was drying on Blaine's dark chocolate curls, but neither of them wanted to move. It felt too good.

Finally, when Kurt's legs started to cramp from being held like that, he lowered them to the floor and reached down to clasp Blaine's cheeks. Blaine slid his tongue out and licked his lips, causing Kurt to blush an even brighter pink, if that was possible.

"Was it good?" Kurt's silky voice whispered, and he ran a finger over Blaine's lips.

Blaine nodded weakly against his thigh, his eyes closing. "So good. You feel so soft…" he cradled his cheek on the top of Kurt's thigh, his lashes fluttering but never opening.

Kurt realized that Blaine was sleepy, and he patted Blaine's lower back. Blaine yawned, but didn't move as he snuggled into the rumpled bottom of Kurt's dress. "Don't fall asleep on me, silly." Kurt giggled lowly, wrapping his arms around Blaine's broad shoulders and squeezing him to his stomach. "Come on, let me get you into bed."

Blaine yawned again, then tilted his head to press a small kiss to Kurt's stomach. Stroking him, Kurt pulled on his shirt to lift his massive body up, and he struggled to his feet with Blaine clumsily getting to his. Kurt guided Blaine over to the bed and set him down at the end, and Blaine flopped backwards and curled up in the middle of the bed.

"Under the blankets, you stubborn man of mine," Kurt chided, pulling the blankets up and watching Blaine throw his legs under them then curl up again. Once satisfied with Blaine's position, Kurt scrambled onto the bed. He cuddled into Blaine, who immediately stretched himself out and threw a strong arm around Kurt, dragging him to his chest. Kurt was squished into Blaine's rising and dropping chest, but he could think of no other position he'd rather go to sleep in.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, balling his shirt up.

Blaine opened one eye and looked down at Kurt, "Mm?"

"Hold onto me until I wake up."

"I'll never let you go. Not ever."

* * *

Blaine woke up hours later to shrill shrieks beside of him and a hard kick to the knee. Startled, Blaine rolled to the right and almost off the bed, but quickly caught himself. He whipped around and squinted through the faint light in the room to find Kurt squealing and tangled in the sheets, his feet and hands flying as he struggled against an invisible force.

Comprehending that Kurt was having a terrible nightmare, Blaine reached out to touch his shoulder and then turned to flip the lamp on. The room was lighted instantly and Kurt squinted, as if aware of it, but his squeaking and crying carried on. "Kurt!" Blaine jumped to pin Kurt so he couldn't move, and he clamped a hand over his mouth as he prepared to scream. "Kurt! Wake up!"

Kurt's fears suddenly blurted from his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks, "No! No! I can't! Blaine! _Blaine!_" Kurt's squeals overcame his words, and he started up his heartbreaking shrieking again.

"Kurt!" Blaine desperately huddled Kurt to his chest, rubbing his back and shushing him. "Wake up, sweetheart. It's a bad dream. It's only a—" he froze when Kurt suddenly ripped away from him, alert and lively as he lifted his head and touched his knuckles to his lips. His breathing was heavy and he looked frightened, like he didn't know where he was, then his quiet was consumed by a burst of tears from his eyes.

Blaine quickly sat up with him and pulled him back against his chest, and Kurt curled so desperately into it that the force almost knocked him down. "Oh, Blaine!" Kurt burrowed into his shirt, his runny eyes and nose wetting it. "I was so frightened! Tell me you'll never leave me. I wouldn't be okay without you, just like you wouldn't without me. Tell me you need me like you need air, Blaine. Tell me those things!"

Blaine's eyes flew wide, and he took Kurt on top of him as he rolled to his back, "Kurt, you know those things, and that I need you _more_ than air. Sweetheart, you know I do. Was that what your nightmare was of, angel? Me not needing you? What can't you do, Kurt?"

Kurt shuddered atop him, his lips suckling Blaine's nipple when he sought it out, but quickly remembered what he had to say when Blaine pulled his chin back up, "I can't be without you." he whispered so faintly Blaine almost didn't hear him. "You don't understand, Blaine, how it would be like living without my heart if you went away."

"What does that imply, Kurt?" Blaine ran his hand over Kurt's head, and Kurt sobbed against his neck as he laid flat on Blaine. "If I went away… how?"

"In any way," Kurt whimpered, peppering his collarbones in kisses, "It breaks my heart, Blaine, thinking of spending one second without you in my life. I don't know how I went on before I met you. Promise me…" his eyes swelled with tears and his throat clamped, choking off his words, and before he could continue, another flood of tears drenched his cheeks. "Oh, Blaine! I can't! Can't imagine my life without you! Don't make me ever go through something like that!"

"Kurt!" Blaine begged, hugging him until he worried he might snap him in half, "It's okay, my little love! I'm not going anywhere. What's got you so worked up? What has you thinking about me leaving?"

"I tried," Kurt babbled, tears streaming uncontrollably at that point, "I tried so hard, Blaine, to keep it inside but then I saw it in my dreams and I couldn't stop. The depression and the pills and the fighting and the knife and—and it's too much, Blaine! What a cruel man he was, putting you through that. I'll never make you unhappy."

Far gone in the head by then, Kurt anxiously lifted his head and planted his lips on Blaine's. He worked his lips like it might be their last kiss, but before Blaine went under at the pleasure of Kurt's kiss, he tore away and put space between them. Another riot of tears tore out of Kurt, and Blaine was shocked how many tears a tiny person like him could hold.

Beyond confused, Blaine took Kurt again and cupped a hand over his mouth, "What is the matter, Kurt? I don't understand! Calm down and talk to me. No more crying, Kurt. Everything's alright. I'm not leaving you."

Kurt blinked away his next round of tears, and he looked Blaine directly in the eye, his gaze so alert and knowing, "Have you ever wanted everything to end?"

Blaine pulled away slightly, alarmed by the statement. When Blaine remained silent, Kurt insisted, "Have you?"

Again, Blaine didn't respond. His lips parted but no words left his mouth. He felt stripped bare and like he could keep nothing secret any more. Kurt continued to probe, "Finn told me you were sad, Blaine, and that you took a knife and tried to kill yourself."

Blaine swiftly looked away, his jaw clenching. "Finn told you that?"

He felt Kurt nod against his skin, "He told me you took pills, and that you saw a counselor, and that you didn't feel right. So you tried to end what I absolutely love."

Blaine still wouldn't meet his eye, "I didn't want you knowing that, Kurt. My life is… so wrong. And I tried keeping you from it. It's very true… that I took a knife to my throat… and wanted to kill myself. I stopped, though, and other than telling Karofsky, I… didn't want to think about it again. I pretended it never happened, and luckily it never got out. I have no idea how Finn might have heard it."

Kurt thought about telling Blaine that Karofsky blabbed it to Azimio, who gossiped it to Brittany, but he didn't. It would only wound Blaine. "What happened?" Kurt whispered into his neck, relieved to finally get it off his chest and that Blaine wasn't reacting too negatively to his secret being spilled. "Did someone catch you before you could finish?"

Blaine swallowed, and he hugged Kurt against his heart, "I… suppose so. I caught me, Kurt. Or… you did. As I was standing there with the knife pressed to my throat, I looked in the mirror and I tried to find the guy I used to be… before Karofsky showed up. At that time I didn't know that Karofsky was the problem, but I knew… something was wrong with me. I wasn't the same anymore. I didn't find the boy I used to be, though, and I saw… you, instead. It sounds insane, and maybe it is, but some part of me… knew. Up until then I'd never seen anything beautiful in my life, Kurt. I'd been to other countries and… saw models in magazines every day… and lovely flowers, like roses… but I wanted to see something more beautiful before I…" He cut himself off there, unsure if Kurt was able to handle such a word as _died,_ so he switched his train of thought, "I thought I somehow deserved it, Kurt. I was so scared and confused on why my friends were leaving me, why I had to be on medication just to feel happy, and I thought if I saw something beautiful I'd feel better again. It'd… fix me. So, I gave up on… ending everything and wanted to wait to see how I felt after seeing this beautiful thing. My scratching came around soon after that…" he turned his palm toward the lamp and showed off his white scars, a few fresh cuts still scabbed over, "because I still felt unhappy. But… then I met you, Kurt, and I saw my beautiful thing and I felt… fine. More than. I was happy. You made me so happy. When Karofsky is near or I think of him or something bad happening to you, I… can't stop myself…" he looked at his palms again, and this time he noticed Kurt had placed his fingers on them and was tracing the scars so lightly, tickling him, "but… I feel so happy, Kurt. I could spend forever with you and still be happy."

"That's what I'll do, then," Kurt smiled, kissing his palms, "spend forever and ever with you. Anything to make you happy. I didn't have to fix anything, though, Blaine. You were perfect when I met you, and you still are. Like you said, you're only… happier. You haven't changed, Blaine. You're always wonderful."

"I have changed," Blaine insisted, clenching his fist around Kurt's fingers, "I've changed so much. I want to improve, Kurt. I want to get over my past and just be happy with you, always. I want to make you as happy as you make me."

Kurt met gazes with Blaine, and one brow arched, "If you want to make me happier, don't hurt me any longer."

Blaine looked shocked, and he loosened his grip on Kurt, "What is wrong? Was I hurting you physically? Am I too much for you to take in? Or was I somehow offending you with a pet name—?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, still rubbing Blaine's palms, "you are hurting me by hurting yourself. Your clawing. It devastates me to see your palms so bloody. Can I ask something of you?"

"Anything." Blaine unclenched his fists.

"Whenever you feel pain, cry on my shoulder instead of punishing yourself. It isn't fair, Blaine, to either of us. You want to make me happy?" Kurt leaned in to press their lips once more.

Blaine nodded swiftly, "I never want to hurt you. Ever."

"Blaine…" Kurt took his face in his hands and bumped their noses, his breath steaming on Blaine's cheeks, "you are beautiful. You're a kind, loving man and I adore you. You are the greatest love of my life. Your hands are perfect, and you need to learn to do the right things with them." Sliding his hands down Blaine's chest, Kurt clasped Blaine's wrists and brought one hand to his hip and the other to his groin, and he moaned and hissed, "Mm…"

Blaine was hard again, and he knew Kurt felt it.

Kurt closed his eyes, his hips grinding down into Blaine's touch, "You are so pleasuring. Your hands are so strong and know just how to touch me." He reopened his eyes and gave Blaine a fiery, excited face, "Touch me wherever you desire, Blaine. Feel my skin. I'm your beautiful thing, aren't I? It shouldn't be a pain to grope me, then."

Blaine let a soft sound out of his throat, his hips bucking at Kurt's seductive words. Where the hell had Kurt ever learned to talk like that, and what had happened to his shy, little Kurt who blushed when Blaine said the word _cock?_ Fuck, he was like steel under Kurt's silky touch.

Growling, Blaine took Kurt up on his offer and slipped both hands under his dress, one hand squeezing a round ass and jiggling the cheeks, and his other cupping Kurt's cock. Kurt released a sweet sound and shakily rose to his knees, straddling Blaine and putting his face just over Blaine's. "I love how you touch me."

"I want to touch you everywhere," Blaine whispered hoarsely, sliding both of his hands in opposite directions, one slipping between Kurt's cheeks and playing with his hole, and the other over his contracting stomach and a nipple. "Beautiful thing, beautiful thing. Clothes are wrong on you." Blaine shakily reached for the back of Kurt's dress, and he yanked the zipper. He would have completely ripped the article, but he found that he absolutely loved this dress on Kurt. Especially what it did for Kurt's ass and hips, making those the main attraction of his body.

Kurt kissed wetly under his jaw, his moist cheeks brushing Blaine's neck, "So are they on you. Touch me with your hands while I'm naked, Blaine. I'll show you how beautiful they are, and how they make me melt. You'll never hurt them again."

"No," Blaine muttered, slipping Kurt's dress off his body and tossing it aside. Once Kurt had his clothes on the floor, the two of them rolled across the bed and Blaine vowed to never scratch his palms again. Not when he finally knew how happy they made Kurt.

Whatever would make Kurt, his beautiful thing, happy.


	46. Don't Dream It's Over

Author's note: Cliff-hanger chapter! :D And Regionals next chapter! I'm still winging the song choices, so if you have a last minute suggestion I'd love to hear it! Here's the first of my earlier updates so I hope you enjoy it, even if it is a shorter chapter. As usual, thanks to my marvelous beta, who I think by now is a few sentences in to her Klaine!fish!crackfic. And thanks to all of my wonderful readers, who I couldn't appreciate more. I'll update again soon!

* * *

Blaine streaked behind the bleachers with Kurt on his arm, both of them silently perusing their surroundings, some of the fans garbed in McKinley High wear, some in Thurston High attire, and a sparse amount buried in books or cellphones, probably just there because their boyfriends or girlfriends appreciated the game. Kurt caught a peek within a break between two sets of bleachers, and he briefly stopped walking to check out the other team across the field.

Pulled to a halt, as well, Blaine nudged Kurt up to the cool bleachers and watched him stare at the boys bumping chests and hooting noisily. Blaine couldn't make out what they were yelping, but at every word another of them burst into laughter, like they were the funniest things they'd ever seen.

Kurt didn't seem pleased with the display they were carrying on, his small mouth twisted and brows furrowed. He lifted a finger to point, "Who are they?"

"Thurston Dragons," Blaine explained, rubbing his back when he shivered against a cold breeze, "I've never played them. The only game McKinley ever had against them was in the eighties, and they won by thirty points but later got disqualified in the Finals for steroid abuse. They're the grungiest team in the league. If we want to beat them, we'll have to play dirty."

Kurt turned his head, half his face highlighted by a streak of light from the spotlights overhead, "Are they any good?"

"Without any way of cheating, no." Blaine muttered almost sarcastically, "But anyone would be good with steroids pumping through their veins. See that guy over to the left?" Kurt tilted his chin in that direction, and followed Blaine's finger toward the biggest guy on the team, a man at least a foot taller than Kurt and three times as wide as Blaine. "That's the defensive end. He's the only good guy on the team because he needs a football scholarship and has to impress the recruiters. He'll also be the hardest to get offense past because… obviously…" Blaine put two hands in front of his hips and spread them, making it clear that he was referring to his size.

"Oh," Kurt pursed his lips, trying to understand what Blaine was saying, "So, he's like how you were for the Titans? The only threat?"

Blaine hated that he felt his cheeks getting redder and hotter with every second longer that Kurt ogled him with those big, blue eyes, and he cleared his throat, "You think I was the only threat on the team?" Damn, his voice was a pitch higher than usual. Kurt really got to him.

Kurt smiled, delighted that he'd made Blaine squirm, "Please, you and I both know that the team is nothing without you. I'm sure they've lost every game since you left them."

Blaine laughed at that, but he was still as red as a cherry as he pulled Kurt to his chest, "You little pleaser, you haven't ever looked at the stats of a football game. You don't know if they've done better or worse without me. You're just trying to flatter me."

Kurt flushed that time, and he nipped his bottom lip, "But I am positive you were very good at playing." Lifting his hand, Kurt cupped the back of Blaine's head and stroked his fingers through his gelled curls.

Blaine crooned at the affectionate attention, "Mm… Thank you, baby." He clasped Kurt's cheeks in his hands and brushed their lips, only to growl and rip away when his phone vibrated on his hip.

There were few people who called him, and the most important one who he'd always answer a call to even if it was three in the morning was right in front of him. Santana, however, was also an urgent case, so he fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, "San? What's up?"

Kurt stepped back only an inch from him to allow him his privacy, but Blaine swiftly tugged him forward again. Squeezed to his chest, Kurt laid his cheek on Blaine's heart and looked out at the field through the gap. Blaine winced when a hurricane of shouting nearly deafened him, and he jerked the phone away when someone shrieked too close to the speaker that someone else was just a sore loser. "Blaine! Bro!" He heard Puck holler, followed by a smashing locker. "Get your ass over here! The locker room is a mess!"

"What?" Blaine almost felt like yelling himself, just to be heard over the background noise on Puck's side, "What the hell's going on?"

"I dunno!" Puck admitted, then said away from the phone, "Finn, go get Schuester. Hey, guys, no punching!" Puck returned to the phone, "Would you just get over here? You're supposed to be in charge of this. If you bail again I will kick your ass!"

Blaine moaned, "Something came up yesterday—"

The line went dead after someone screamed in the background, and Blaine snarled and snapped his phone shut. "Dammit," he hissed, pocketing the phone and grabbing Kurt's hand. "Come on, sweetheart. Puck said no one's cooperating and some fight is going on."

"Between the football team and the glee club?" Kurt assumed, trotting to keep up with Blaine's ground-eating strides. "Oh, that's so terrible! I figured they would have gotten over their differences by now!"

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, taking him past the field and onto the lawn where the locker rooms were, "I doubt they ever will if they haven't by now. Stay close to me, honey. I don't want you taking a punch to the face."

Kurt reached up and brushed the mark on the side of his face as if reminded of yesterday, "It would be nothing I haven't been through before." He whispered bitterly, and Blaine glanced at him but pretended he didn't hear him. He couldn't bear acknowledging that Kurt had been slapped by his own father who Blaine thought he could trust to not hurt him, at least physically. Blaine hated that he'd been so selfish and not even brave enough to stay in the same room as Finn, and because of that he hadn't been there to stop Burt when he'd raised his hand wrongly against Kurt. He took part of the blame, but had he been stupid to believe that Burt would never hit Kurt? It didn't seem like it at the time.

When they reached the locker rooms, both could hear sounds of pushing, skin slapping skin, angry hoots, and bodies hitting the floor. From inside, someone screamed an injustice against gay people, that whoever he was fighting was a fag. Rolling his eyes at the overused insult and wondering if their vocabulary for invectives would ever expand past fag or Lima loser or ugly, Blaine threw open the door and it almost smacked Phil, their tight end, in the ass. He glanced up from trying to strangle Sam, who he had pinned to the floor.

Bending without much of a second thought, Blaine grabbed Phil around the collar and hauled him to his feet, then shoved him aside. He bumped into Mike, who had been exchanging slaps with a football player who Blaine couldn't remember the name of, and soon enough Mike and Whatshisname took Phil in and started going for his throat, as well. Blaine hissed from deep in his throat, but quickly tucked Kurt behind him when two guys who had been going at it on a bench fell backwards and nearly knocked into them.

Kurt squealed and hid his face, his heart racing on Blaine's shoulder blade. When the two boys who almost squished Kurt rolled onto Blaine's feet and continued tossing punches, Blaine flicked them off and raised his head, "_En_ough! The next person to throw a punch is getting stripped down and shoved into the middle of that field bare ass naked!"

Bobby—at least, that's what Blaine thought his name was—wiped his bloody nose and spoke up through the tense quiet, since everyone had shut up after Blaine's interruption, "I'm sure you'd like that, faggy ass." He stuck his tongue in his cheek and earned a few snickers and high fives.

Blaine held his hand up in his general direction, "I'm not interested in what you have to say. Would someone else like to speak up and tell me what's going on?"

"Maybe you'd know if you actually came to practices," someone in the back muttered, and a few heads bobbed, arms crossing.

They weren't at all entertaining the idea of Blaine being in charge. He was losing them one by one.

"Yeah," someone else agreed, and a couple of the football players stood up. Kurt swiftly wrapped his arms around Blaine from behind, trying to protect him if they tried anything funny. "What makes you think you can step out on us then show up on game night and try to boss us around? Who died and made you king?"

"Guys," Finn, who had been up against one of the lockers with Puck beside him, waved his hands, "don't do this. He just wants to help."

Another football player pushed Blaine to his limit, "Well, I don't think a couple of fags really know anything about football."

Blaine's mouth fell open, and he was sure Kurt was looking the same from the sharp breath he inhaled, "Just because I'm with a boy means I can't know sports?" When the accused person didn't speak up again and show his face, Blaine spoke to the lot of them, "You are all _so_ stereotypical. You've seen me play football, and I'm not trying to be arrogant but I was good. Maybe even better than all of you, as someone I trust very much to always tell me the truth has claimed. I watch college football and I know the positions like the back of my hand. No, Kurt doesn't watch or play football. He has no interest in it, but he has nothing to do with this week of Booty Camp. This is all on me. If what you—and I'll just assume for lack of better judgment on all of you that this view is reflected from almost everyone in this room—just said really shows how naïve, insecure and prejudice you are, then I hope that you're forced to go through what I've been through this past school year. I was just like all of you and you know it, but now I know better." Stepping away from the lot of them, Blaine shook his head in disgust then pointed at the lockers, "I'm going to check on the girls. I want all of you in gear in five. If I come back and you're fighting, I'll send all of you home and you'll forfeit this game."

Blaine spun away to exit the room with Kurt, but one of the football players—as if Blaine's admittances hadn't even fazed him—reached out and snatched his arm, "Oh, no. You don't get to threaten us, Anderson. We'll do as we please because we're knocking you and your faggy, defensive ass out of the job. We don't want to hear you plead your case for your fellow fags."

Blaine drew his lips up over his teeth, and he bit out, "Don't you?" He whipped around and lifted a fist, needing to knock the hard-heads down a peg, but Kurt swiftly reached out and yanked Blaine away from the brewing fight.

"Blaine, don't!" he squealed, hugging Blaine to his chest, "Stop it, all of you! This is getting ridiculous! If you don't like us, that's fine, but don't lower yourselves to this level! You all have potential because you want this so badly. Football is your lives, so make it more important than getting a few punches in. Don't any one of you know how important a dream is? When I was only sixteen years old, I walked into Vogue a nobody and now look at me. I've made myself better and I never gave up, even if I wasn't fond of one of the models I was working with." Sighing, Kurt ran his hand over his hair in frustration. Normally he wouldn't allow himself such a crime to his hair, but the helmet was going to mess it up, anyway. "Since none of you are willing to listen to Blaine and he doesn't appreciate the rude glares you seem so keen to give him, I'm taking charge. I'm going to get my Beyoncé and gear, and, like Blaine said, all of you are going to get dressed. Gentlemen, I have a plan that will satisfy us all."

* * *

Blaine had never doubted that Kurt was totally insane. First of all, he was in love with Blaine, a madman himself. Secondly, he aspired after the crazy Lady Gaga too heartily to not be influenced by her in some way or the other, either through fashion or taste for music. But what really did Kurt's case in was when he came stumbling across the field, trying to stay upright as his heavy helmet weighed him down, with the football team tracking along behind him. The glee girls attempted to worm their ways around the large bodies of boys, but failed to meet Kurt up front. Kurt didn't appear bothered by handling the football team all on his own, anyway.

Reaching the center of the field, Kurt earned the confused smirks and snickers of the Dragons, and even the audience who showed no interest in the game of football was starting to put away their books and phones, each fascinated by Kurt's show. Kurt handled the attention in a way that Blaine never could, popping his hip out and pointing to the DJ by the stands. The boy nodded and flipped through his tracks, and soon enough Beyoncé was blaring through the loud speakers.

Kurt, who often danced to this track in their bedroom when he was feeling especially playful and seductive with Blaine, easily slipped into the finger-points, jutting and swinging hips, and waist slapping. Of course, he obviously went for the ass smacking when he was alone with Blaine—how could Blaine not want to see that?—but Blaine hadn't expected anything more than decency and bashfulness out of him when facing a mass of men.

The football players clumsily worked their ways through Single Ladies, some of them missing finger-point entrances, and a few tapping their asses a second too late. But they were trying, focusing on Kurt, listening to his instruction, which amazed Blaine. Kurt's talents to bring anyone to his knees riveted Blaine.

Never tearing his eyes from his wiggling boyfriend once, Blaine backed up and straddled one of the benches. As if somehow aware of Blaine's movements, Kurt briefly distracted himself and turned all the way around. He met Blaine's eye, and Blaine winked and held up a thumb to encourage him, but it wasn't enough for Kurt. Kurt waved him over, briefly throwing the football players off as they mocked Kurt's wave, but Kurt brushed them off and pointed to his finger again. They instantly got back into the swing of things.

Shaking his head, Blaine swept his gaze over the crowd of people, many rising to their feet and taking videos of the scene. Luckily, before he had much of a chance to reject Kurt and admit to himself why he couldn't walk over there and join the dance party, someone tapped his shoulder. "Blaine," a man snapped, voice almost guttural, "locker rooms, now."

He lifted his head and squinted against the glaring spotlights, and he screwed his face up at Schuester's horrible expression. He'd never seen Schuester so irate, teeth grinding and nose wrinkled. Schuester grabbed his shoulder and ripped him to his feet, shoving him in the direction of the locker rooms. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Blaine. And I expect to get it in full. No more hiding things from me."

* * *

Schuester planted Blaine onto one of the benches, then went across the room to drag another bench closer and plopped down. Blaine started to scoot away, "Schuester, the game is about to start. I have to coach them and give Kurt signals. He's depending on me—"

"Kurt won't be playing," Schuester bit out, crossing his arms and putting his elbows on his knees, "None of the New Directions will, except the guys on the team. Artie's staying for the game, and maybe Quinn, but most of the girls are going home. Finn knows Kurt can't be left alone so he's sitting this game out and taking Kurt home early."

Blaine couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What?"

Schuester shook his head, "I'm so disappointed in you, Blaine. I expected more out of you. You missed two out of the four practice days, you let glee kids sit out if they wanted, you never spoke to the football team, and you didn't come up with any kind of game plan. Then, on game day, you let Kurt turn the biggest game of the year into a joke. You saw him having his little, dance party and didn't say a word? I won't punish Kurt because he did his part with the first week of Booty Camp, but Coach Sylvester, Coach Beiste and Figgins are all requiring that if I discipline the football players for acting up, you should also serve your time."

Putting a finger on his bottom lip and biting the nail, Blaine craved to simply curl his fingers only a little and satisfy his needs, but instead he simply chewed his nail raw and jagged. "So… what is it? Grades cut in half? No senior prom?"

Schuester shook his head, his cheeks brightening, "You're a smart student, Blaine, and even if your grades were cut in half, you'd be able to get them up in a matter of weeks. And none of us expected you to come to your prom, anyway, so… except for me, it was a unanimous vote… to cancel Regionals for you."

Blaine almost choked on his own air, his eyes growing wide, "Are you saying I can't perform in Regionals? Mr. Schuester, Kurt and I have our routines picked out and we've practiced them. You can't change that this soon before competitions. Who would Kurt perform with, then? Can't there be anything but Regionals? Kurt is counting on me. I'm his dance partner."

"You should have thought of that before you skipped out," Schuester sighed, beginning to stand, "Blaine, I don't like this any more than you do. Besides Kurt, you're my strongest voice, and you are his partner in everything. But we did make a deal, and you backed out. There have to be consequences. I'm sorry, Blaine. I really wish I could fix things, but what's done is done. I haven't told Kurt… if you want to break the news to him. You might want to do it now, as hard as it will be. Give him time to prepare a new set list."

Blaine remained silent, still in shock at the news, and as if pitying him, Schuester shook his head and bent to rub Blaine's shoulder. Blaine shrugged him off. "Get home, Blaine. Be honest with Kurt. I'll see you Monday. Goodnight."

Alarmed at the sudden break in his future plans, Blaine didn't clamp his open mouth shut for a long time, even after Schuester walked out and left him broken hearted and queasy in the stomach.

Regionals was everything he'd been looking forward to, and now it was gone.

* * *

Blaine shrugged his coat off when he walked in the door of the quiet house, and he hung it up on a rack. Kicking his shoes off, Blaine sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes squinting. How could he ever tell Kurt what he'd lost? But, like Schue said, he had to. It was only fair to give Kurt as much time as possible to replace his duets with solos—probably a few ballads—and the glee club to plot new choreography.

He suddenly felt very immature and childlike for his punishment, and for letting his fear of the football team consume him. He'd been taught a lesson, a finger had been wagged at him, and that left a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn't even remember the last time one of his parents had scolded him.

Fighting the urge to act out against his punishment, make a scene, claim it was unfair because he hadn't known that his punishment would be so severe, Blaine shook his head and figured that might make things worse.

Blaine tromped upstairs and was instantly confronted by rustling blankets, and soon after soft feet came padding across the floor. Kurt poked his nose out of their bedroom door, a relieved noise escaping him. He held his arms open, the sleeves of his silky robe fanning out and dangling. "Oh, Blaine," he moaned, taking Blaine in his arms when he reached him and kissing the tip of his nose, "I'm so glad you're home safe."

"I'm fine, sweetheart," Blaine breathed into his shoulder, blindly walking the two of them into the bedroom and shutting the door behind them. "Have you been alright by yourself?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Kurt tugged Blaine toward the bed, and when Blaine threw himself down Kurt knelt at his feet and started unlacing his shoes, "Finn was great company in the car, and Pavarotti greeted me at home. I haven't been lonesome, but you have been missed. What is the matter, Blaine? What has Mr. Schuester said to you? I haven't heard a word."

Blaine looked down at the top of Kurt's head, and he smoothed his hair as he peeked down his opening robe. He spotted a shadowed nipple brushing the robe with every movement of his hands. Hissing when Kurt pulled the shoe off and pressed his sore foot, Blaine flopped back, "You're so good with your hands."

Kurt lightly laughed from below him, "_Merci, _I've learned only from the best massager in all of the world. But, Blaine, please don't switch the subject. I'd like to know."

Blaine grew serious again, and he swallowed, "Honey… I can't perform at Regionals."


	47. Mine

Author's note: Regionals! Woot! Thanks so much to my wonderful beta, JMarieAllenPoe, for the amazing ideas she gave me, as always :) I don't have much to say about this chapter except it's a lot of borderline crackfic. I'm not sure how I feel about the lack of plot in this one but a lot of you were asking for a fluffy chapter so here it is! West Side Story up next :) which means the clash of Blaine and Rachel. If anyone has suggestions about the fights/annoying things Rachel should do to Blaine, just review or PM!

Klaine forever and ever 3: Your reviews made me laugh really hard :) Blaine's rubbing off on Kurt, so expect to see more of the inner vixen. I might actually have to dedicate this chapter to you because I rewrote the last scene about twenty times trying to perfect it just to have some implied smut for you, and the beginning scene is definitely for you! :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I tried not to make this chapter too terribly depressing about Blaine not getting to perform :/ I like to think of it as Blaine getting to sit back and watch Kurt swish around on stage in his sexy costume :D I really liked your song choices, but in the end I thought about what Kurt would want for Blaine and how Blaine LOVES disco so much, so I decided to put your songs in my repertoire for later :) Call Me Maybe sounds like a Unique/Kurt duet, and Love is Easy and I'll Stand By You I'm considering for Nationals :) Thanks for mentioning those and I hope to hear more song suggestions out of you for those random moments when Blaine feels like busting a groove in Gap :D

P.S. Happy New Year, Klainers!

* * *

"You are the best thing that's ever been mine," Kurt hummed through the notes, watching his reflection in the mirror. "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter." Smoothing the front of his leotard, Kurt sighed and wiggled his feet into his glass slippers, "I'll never leave you alone…"

Eyes on his flushed face, Kurt startled at a round of quiet applause behind him, and he spun around to find Blaine poised against a wall, a pretty bouquet of flowers in hand, the perfect image of casual as he crossed one leg behind the other, arms over his chest. Smiling at the acknowledgement, Blaine shook his head and whispered, "Don't stop. Your voice is beautiful."

Kurt brightened to a cherry shade, and he stepped toward Blaine, "You are the best thing that's ever been mine."

Blaine blinked and swallowed thickly, "You're gorgeous, Kurt. Look at you."

Kurt boldly spun to give him a full view of his body, and Blaine purred. Arrayed in a glittery, white leotard with drop sleeves, a dip in the back and silver strings of fabric dangling over his thighs and butt instead of a skirt, and a pair of clear tights, Kurt was the loveliest thing Blaine had ever seen.

Turning back around to face Blaine, Kurt sighed with satisfaction and took his hand, "Would you like to sit down? I have a vanity just over there."

"I only have a few minutes," Blaine shook his head, "Besides… I don't think it'd be best for you to sit in my lap right now." Checking to see if they had any onlookers, Blaine smirked, "I've been really turned on since I first got a look at you, and your perky, little butt rubbing on me would be the end of me."

Kurt put his hands on his hips, "I'm glad you approve so much. Since you can't perform tonight, I wanted this to be all about you… so you could enjoy it more."

Blaine shook his head, "Baby, I love anything you do, you know that."

"Well… yes." Kurt nodded, "But you do have a few favorite things. I know you love disco, so I have a few of those up my sleeve, but I also chose Taylor Swift for myself… because I love that song. It's very close to me."

Backing up against the wall, Blaine looked directly at Kurt, "Sing me another lyric."

Kurt smiled, and he shuffled himself closer to Blaine, holding out his hands, "You are the best thing that's ever been mine."'

Wrapping his fingers around Kurt's small palms, Blaine tugged him forward and planted his lips on his. His mouth opened as he wound his arms around Kurt, the petals on his bouquet tickling the back of Kurt's thigh, and he mumbled on his lips, "He is the best thing that's ever been mine."

Kurt helplessly giggled at Blaine's affections, his cheeks rosy as Blaine's warm breath fanned onto them. Blaine kissed every inch of skin he could see on Kurt, his ears, his eyelids, his cheekbones, his chin, and only hesitated when Kurt murmured, "I have to go. I'll look for you in the audience. Know that I've dedicated every song to you, and I mean every word. Kiss me again for good luck."

"You don't need it," Blaine hummed, finding his mouth and sucking his bottom lip, anyway, "but I love kissing you. You taste sweet."

Kurt laughed, "That's my lip blush you just ruined, silly man. Blaine, Blaine, the lights flashed. I have to be on stage in two minutes. You must let me go."

Blaine took Kurt's face in his hands, and he looked him directly in the eye, "I love you, beautiful thing."

All amusement on Kurt's tiny face was overwhelmed by a need to stay close to Blaine, and he nuzzled under Blaine's chin, "I love you, too."

Slipping his hand from Kurt's back, Blaine took one of his hands that were around his neck, and he opened the loose fist. He placed the bouquet in his palm, then curled the hand back up. "These are yours. They're not as beautiful as you, but every pretty performer deserves to get a bouquet of flowers. I gave you a rose at Sectionals. You remember?"

Kurt nodded against Blaine's chest, "How could I ever forget such a wonderful gift? I still have it. It's wilted and has only a few petals left, but that's one of the first gifts you've ever given me, and it was one of the first things that proved you loved me so much."

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered into Kurt's hair, his eyes swelling with tears at Kurt's sweet words. At the time he'd thought the rose had just been something that would get stuck in a vase and when it eventually dried out tossed in the trash, but knowing that Kurt had kept it all these months caused a lump in his throat. "You _are _the best thing that's ever been mine."

* * *

Behind the curtains, Kurt pranced to the middle of the stage and froze. He took one deep breath and assumed position, straightening his back and humming to himself to warm up his vocals. Kurt, both anxious and excited, twisted his lips into a beautiful smile and listened in to the announcer, "…for our final act of the night, let's give a warm welcome to the New Directions!"

He heard the audience erupt into applause, a few whistling, and it thrilled him to know that Blaine was somewhere among them. Still, Kurt knew where Blaine's rightful place was—next to him—and he felt beside himself without Blaine near during a performance, but he was relieved he'd come, anyway, to support him.

The curtains started slipping apart, slowly revealing, inch by inch, a packed audience of people. Recomposing himself, Kurt tossed his shoulders back and put a hand to his hip, trying not to blink when a bright flash from someone's camera temporarily blinded him. Somewhere near the left side of the auditorium, someone else screamed how much he loved him.

While he waited for the music to kick on, Kurt distracted himself by focusing on the individuals in the audience, scanning the rows one by one. _Blaine, Blaine, Blaine…_ He almost twitched when his eyes fell upon the familiar face in the front row, golden eyes gleaming up at him, so focused and alert. His smile broadened and he wiggled his fingers in the slightest of waves, and a smile curved Blaine's lips, also.

"I love you," Blaine mouthed, seconds before the loud speakers jolted to life and Taylor Swift's guitar trilled out of them.

Heart pounding, Kurt briefly flicked his eyes from Blaine's face to the rest of the audience to check their reactions, and he was gladdened that they seemed pleasantly surprised. He returned to Blaine and the loving words poured out of him, so naturally and perfectly, like love songs were his second nature.

Kurt suddenly wanted to leave the stage and go to Blaine, take his hands, and sing it only to him, let everyone else disappear, but he knew he'd have plenty more love songs to sing to him. He hadn't even started on Katy Perry's repertoire.

Lifting his voice an octave when he reached the chorus, Kurt threw one hand in the air and swiveled around, his hips swaying to the beat of the music. He sashayed over to the piano—which he would play for his next number—and boosted himself onto the white lid, keeping his eyes on Blaine, who looked totally fascinated by that point.

Blaine unconsciously tapped his knuckles on his thigh, his ankle shaking and shoulders moving. Kurt, amused by his intrigued boyfriend, giggled as the song came to a close, his voice shrieking the last few notes.

After the hushed guitar faded to silence, the audience absolutely exploded, a mass of people jumping to their feet and clapping heartily. Flushed with embarrassment, Kurt bit his bottom lip and kept his eyes on Blaine, who managed to stop his seat grooving and got to his feet, his hands thudding together. A proud smile tugged his pink lips. Giggling at Blaine's appreciation for the song, Kurt touched his fingers to his lips and blew him a kiss.

He hopped from the top of the piano and rushed around it, plopping onto the white stool perched in front of it. Resting his fingertips on the keys, Kurt pressed down and a melodic string of notes chirped at him. Kurt slid his fingers to another set of keys and pushed, and he crooned out a lyric. A slowed-down, piano version of If I Can't Have You drifted through the loud speakers, and soon enough he noticed people beginning to clap along.

His voice soared up two octaves, and by the second verse he was joined by the humming of the New Directions, who sauntered onto the stage in one group. "If I can't have you, I don't want nobody, baby…"

_"Know that I've dedicated every song to you, and I mean every word."_

"I gave it all so easily to you, my love…"

_"I'm not a virgin anymore, Blaine."_

"Don't know why I'm surviving every lonely day…"

_"…he hadn't been holding the pillow for the comfort—a substitute for Blaine, but the picture he'd laid against it. It was one of Blaine…"_

"When there's got to be no chance for me, my life would end…"

He repeated that last verse once, and suddenly Finn was there at his side, holding his hand out. Swooping into More Than a Woman, Kurt jumped from his seat and put one hand at Finn's shoulder, the other raising to the height of his jaw. Finn took his waist and his lifted hand, and they circled into the middle of the floor. Both of them kept their distances, a foot of space between them, which was very unlike how when Kurt and Blaine had rehearsed it.

Swinging his hips, Kurt watched Finn whine into the chorus of the song, his own voice piping up to sing back-up. Kurt kept his steps very simple as Finn struggled not to squish his toes, hips shimmying to make up for the lack of footwork.

He gripped Finn's shoulder tighter when Finn bent to scoop him up from under his thighs, and he lay back the moment he felt his butt brush the edge of the piano. Pulling his knees up, Kurt straightened one leg until his stick heel was pointed at the ceiling. His string skirt drooped and fanned around his thighs as he writhed his hips, a gorgeous display that had the audience on the edges of their seats.

Putting one hand to his hair and running his fingers through it, Kurt rolled onto his stomach and crossed his legs above him, his chin resting on the backs of his folded hands. He looked at the awestruck audience and searched for Blaine's face. Blaine, as he was before, was almost sitting on the floor he was bent so far forward, his eyes huge and his mouth gaping. Kurt was pleased with the reaction.

Twisting onto his back once more, Kurt leapt off the piano and back into Finn's arms for the closing note. He held nothing back in hopes that giving it his all would earn a win and Blaine a chance to experience Nationals, so he tossed his head and screamed the final note. As soon as he finished, his voice the last sound in that auditorium before everything became pen-drop silent, an outburst of clapping hands and a wave of people launching to their feet fanned the New Direction's egos as most of the audience was very vocal in telling them how magnificent they were.

They all stood for a moment to accept the applause, and Kurt especially had no desire to leave the stage as Blaine all but ran on stage to kiss him for a job well done, his hands reddened from how hard and how many times he clapped. A grin broke out on both of their faces, and Kurt blew another kiss from the tips of his fingers and even winked, which seemed to provoke Blaine more.

Before their playful eye lash batting could continue, though, Finn wrapped an arm around Kurt and tugged him off the stage, where the rest of them started their whooping and fist pumping at what a great show it was.

Kurt was jostled around and embraced warmly by several people, and handed some kind of sparkling juice then patted on the back, which nearly spilled his drink, but Kurt wasn't in the mood for clinking glasses and holding hands with his friends as they shouted and hollered and chest bumped.

He was only interested in finding out if Blaine had Nationals, and then another kind of celebrating.

* * *

Blaine knocked on the panel to the New Direction's door, and he entered without much of a welcome. A group of girls—Rachel, Mercedes and Tina—glanced up at his entrance, but none of them said anything. Artie, however, rolled past him when he walked about a foot in, and he waved casually, "Hey, Blaine. Want some juice? We have a bottle over there."

Before he had a chance to reply that he already had a Coke during the performance and wasn't thirsty at all, Finn approached him and clapped his back, "Hey, dude. How'd we do?"

"Um…" Blaine scrunched his brows, still busy scanning for Kurt, "good. You sounded… great during More Than a Woman."

Finn smiled, satisfied, "Thanks." He started to pull away, not wanting to push it in case Blaine still wasn't completely ready to forget their falling out. Kurt had told him to let Blaine do most of the work on his own, so he was going to take his hands off the situation and give Blaine the time he needed.

Blaine didn't seem bothered by Finn speaking to him, though, "Uh… Whe—?"

Sam, who was perched at one of the tables with Quinn and obviously listening in, nodded his head toward the other side of the room, "Over there."

Blaine took a step in that direction, "Okay. Thanks."

Clearing his throat, Blaine played with his collar and looked toward the back of the room, where the vanities were set up. At a lone one in the middle sat the one person he'd been prowling after for the last ten minutes, and a small smile curved his lips as he realized that Kurt hadn't noticed him.

Nursing a purplish drink in a plastic cup quietly, Kurt combed his fingers through his hair and pinched his cheeks to color his pale face, which was shimmering with a thin layer of perspiration. He looked so beautiful that Blaine wanted to taste him.

Blaine crept toward his unknowing boyfriend on the fronts of his feet, almost guilty for his desire to startle him. Coming up on Kurt, who appeared to notice a flash of movement in the mirror at the last second, Blaine bent and covered his eyes with one hand. "Surprise."

Kurt jumped and pushed Blaine's hand away, and he turned in his chair to wrap his arms around Blaine's stomach, "_Blaine!_ I thought you were still with the audience! What did you think of the show?"

Blaine smirked and knelt beside his chair, "You were flawless, honey. You have this one in the bag."

Blushing, Kurt took another sip of his drink and shook his head, "I fell a little flat on my A-sharp during If I Can't Have You, but thank you. I only hope it was enough for you to perform at Nationals. It'd be such a shame for Sectionals to be the end for you."

Blaine stole Kurt's drink from his hand and downed the rest of it in one shot, "It was my mistakes that got me kicked out, baby. Don't think you went to all of that work so I could perform at Nationals. I adore that you do, but… what you just did was for you. You looked so happy out there. Take pride in the voice you have… Don't use it to cover my tracks."

"I guess I can be a little selfish and say that I enjoyed it for myself," Kurt sighed, tugging at his tights to smooth a wrinkle, "but I do want Nationals for us, Blaine. I would turn down performing with Barbra Streisand to have a duet with you because it feels so… right."

"Me over Barbra?" Blaine chuckled lowly, "Impressive, little love. I didn't think you had it in you to turn down Barbra. You must really love me."

Kurt opened his mouth to assure Blaine that he did, but Blaine's buzzing phone interrupted them. Sitting back, Kurt watched Blaine fish in his pocket and pull out his phone, then smile at the screen, "It's Santana." He muttered, putting the phone away again. "She's been texting me all through the performance. I was just telling her how perfect you were before I got in here and that we're bringing home a trophy."

Grinning, Kurt leaned an elbow on the vanity and put his chin against his fist, "You're too arrogant, not giving the other clubs a chance, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine leaned in for a kiss, "You're everything to be arrogant about, my pretty, little angel."

* * *

About twenty minutes later, the New Directions were called back to the stage. So, Kurt walked hand in hand with Blaine, behind the rest of his friends, down a few hallways to reach the auditorium. Eventually, Sam propped open the stage door and the group of them filed in one at a time, spilling onto the stage and lining up. Kurt ended up in the front row, squished between Rachel and Blaine, the latter wrapping his arm around his waist.

There were a few clearing throats and camera flashes as the rest of the groups found their places. Kurt leaned against Blaine, who rubbed the small of his back and kissed the top of his head, as one of the judges strode onto the stage. He made his way up to the microphone and tapped it a couple of times, sending off shrill screams through the speakers. Many people winced and covered their ears, while Kurt hid in Blaine's shirt, not just because of the sound but because he was shaking so badly he feared he might fall over if Blaine didn't hold him up. Not only was his group relying on me, but so was Blaine's future—and his own.

Eventually, Kurt tuned into what the judge was saying, "…thanks for coming out to this year's Regionals competition between Vocal Adrenaline, New Directions, and the Rosedale Mennonites. The winner will proceed onto Nationals. Good luck to everyone competing."

The judge split the card and Kurt clenched Blaine's hand to his stomach, and it seemed everyone else waited with that same bated-breath reaction. No one wanted this quite as badly as Kurt, though. "Third place goes to… the Rosedale Mennonites."

Skimming over the rest of the card, the judge nodded and looked between both groups remaining. Blaine clenched his teeth, wishing the judge would just announce it already, both to ease his and Kurt's—especially Kurt's—nerves, and because if Kurt squeezed his hand any tighter, he'd lose circulation. "It was very close—almost a tie. But we do have a winner, and that is… the New Directions! Congratulations!"

Kurt released his hand and spun toward him, and Blaine swiftly boosted Kurt up against his body. His legs and arms flew around Blaine, and their lips met in the middle. Their tongues danced, and the sweetness of the juice, the tartness of sweat and Kurt's strawberry lip blush burst very flavorfully between their mouths, and Blaine only wanted to taste more.

* * *

When they arrived home, Blaine tossed Kurt onto their bed, and after stripping of his shirt, pants, and boxers, Blaine lunged on top of him and straddled him. Kurt giggled and reached for Blaine as the latter rolled them across the bed. Their mouths opened and their tongues wrapped around each other, soft sounds slipping from their throats. A hand brushed his groin and Blaine groaned, and two fingers pinched his nipple and Kurt whimpered.

Suddenly, though, a yawn slipped from Kurt's lips and Blaine laughed against them, keeping his voice hushed, "Tired, little love? You must be exhausted after that performance. Go to sleep—we can celebrate later."

Kurt shook his head, still moving his lips on Blaine's, "You're more interesting than sleep, but if I do doze off, I give you permission to ravish me in my sleep. I won't mind. But if I'm too tired to respond to your seductive hands and mouth, then it's your own fault your manhood is getting wounded."

Blaine ducked down so Kurt could feel his gelled hair rubbing his collarbone, and he felt Blaine smile against his skin, "I'm perfectly okay with that, my talented, little sweet."


	48. Uptown Girl

Author's note: Hi, readers! Here's the start of West Side Story :) This chapter was fun to write and the next few will be a lot like it, so enjoy it and review with any suggestions or comments :D Some of you who have seen West Side Story might be able to tell that I've never seen the movie or the Broadway show and I'm going by The First Time, but I plan on getting the movie soon so I can write this correctly :) Sorry in advance for anything I got wrong in this chapter, and feel free to point out corrections I should make. Thanks to my awesome beta and all of my wonderful readers!

Klaine forever and ever 3: As usual, your review made my day :) I speak English and I know a little Spanish, but pretty much no French :P Soo... hope you like this chapter! I tried adding some fluffiness, but I'm better with angst and Rachel kind of ruined it... I'll get back to the fluff soon, though! :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Your review was really awesome and I'm glad you plan on thinking up more songs! Your first suggestions were really good! I could use some help with songs for West Side Story so if you come up with ideas for those (who sings them, when they sing them, etc.) I'd appreciate it!

* * *

Kurt bundled the blankets around his chirpy bird and watched Pavarotti puff his feathers out, patting his talons on the mattress before finding the softest spot and sitting down. "There," Kurt cooed, bending to kiss the top of his head, "you're the handsomest bird around after your grooming. All you need is a Louis Vuitton bowtie and you'll be the most fashionable, too. Your daddy will stop by the mall tomorrow and pick you out a nice, black one to flatter your yellow feathers."

Pavarotti chirped at him and bobbed his head sleepily, trying not to nod off. From at the vanity, Blaine set his hand moisturizer aside and chuckled, "Honey, I hate to disappoint but I don't think Louis Vuitton makes bowties in Pavarotti's size. I'll check Rue La La and see what I can do."

"Good," Kurt stroked his bird again, ogling Blaine out of the corner of his eye. "Because my birthday is coming up, and he'll need a party outfit. Don't worry, Pavarotti, you and your daddies will go shopping soon and we'll each look so fabulous." He returned his attention to Blaine, "This year I want big and extravagant, Blaine. I haven't had a birthday in Ohio since I was eight. I didn't expect to make friends this year, Blaine, so I want to invite everyone and for everything to go… perfectly. I want this to be the party of the year and… for it to really mean something… to make a memory for me—for us. You know what I mean?" After a moment of recalling all that he'd rambled, Kurt shook his head with a poignant smile, "I must sound so silly for such wishful thinking for a _birthday_ party."

Blaine's face visibly changed in the mirror, his eyes growing slightly wider and his mouth firming up, and he cleared his throat, "No… Big and extravagant. I can do that. Whatever you want, sweetheart."

Kurt smiled and focused on his bird, who now had his head buried in his chest and was snoozing, when he suddenly jumped as the silence was broken by a shrill ring. Blaine reacted to it, too, pausing in his moisturizing routine and picking his phone up, "Hello?"

Brows furrowed, Kurt leaned forward in curiosity of who would call them so late, and Blaine also seemed just as stumped, as he turned around and leaned against the vanity. He crossed one arm over his chest, his hand lifting to rub his stubbly jaw with his knuckles. He nodded at whatever the person on the other line was saying, then glanced at Kurt, "Yeah… He's still up. Can this wait until tomorrow? We were about to head to bed." Blaine paused, and this time shook his head, then stepped toward the bed, "Fine. Just… don't be long."

Handing the phone over to Kurt, Blaine mouthed something Kurt couldn't understand then turned away, giving Kurt a good view of his small butt, and Kurt hesitantly put the phone to his ear, "_Salut?_ This is Kurt."

"Kurt!" Rachel piped up, and Kurt almost put a finger in his ear to muffle her noisiness, "I'm glad you're still awake. I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Kurt's brows furrowed, his mouth going stiff, "No… nothing. Is something wrong, Rach? Can you talk to me in class tomorrow? I-I need my beauty sleep… and I don't want to wake anyone up with all this talking."

"Oh, I just got off the phone with Finn," Rachel chirped, "He's not asleep. He's either playing video games or masturbating. I couldn't tell the difference… there's a lot of grunting involved in both—"

Kurt was still tempted to plug his ears, "Oh! Rachel, please! I don't need to hear things like that!" When Blaine quietly walked around the bed and pulled the sheets back on his side, and slid in beside Kurt, Kurt hurried her babbling along, "I don't mean to sound rude, Rachel, because I do enjoy talking with you, but I fear I'm rather tired and…" He paused as Blaine curled his body around his, and reached under the covers to yank off his boxers and toss them aside as he bundled Kurt in his arms and pressed his face into his neck, "Is there a reason you called?"

Rachel finally got to the point, "Yes, we have an issue with glee club. We don't have a Tony. Well… we do, but he's being stubborn and won't answer any of our emails about his necessary attendance at tomorrow's first play practice."

"Tony?" Kurt shook his head, feeling Blaine shift behind him and push a leg between his. "You mean… West Side Story?" He swallowed and thought back to the journal he'd found on the night of the sleepover, and how she'd mentioned West Side Story somewhere in it. But then he'd given the journal to Blaine, and for weeks he'd neither seen nor heard anything about that journal. "Is that our school play this year?"

"Yes," Rachel was oblivious to the fact that he'd found that out from her journal, "How'd you know? Did Blaine talk to you?"

"Blaine?" Even though he knew something Rachel didn't, he felt like the clueless one. Peeking over his shoulder, Kurt looked at Blaine's emotionless face and noticed that he wasn't meeting his eyes, "Does Blaine know about West Side Story?"

"I told him over the New York trip," Rachel said, as if it should have been obvious, "Schuester wanted our opinion on the play so he told us early—must be a privilege for his favorites, which is why it's hard to believe he didn't tell you. You're so _good. _Then I thought I should let Blaine know since he was the only runner for Tony, but now he's ignoring such a great opportunity. He must feel that he's not… adequate for such a demanding role. I would feel that way, too, if I only got into glee club to screw a boy."

Kurt turned a bright red, and he sat up slightly. "_Rachel._ Be nice. Blaine did not join glee club just to be with me. He loves singing. Why haven't I heard anything about this? The first play practice is coming up and I haven't even auditioned? Performing in West Side Story has been a dream of mine ever since I heard my mother belt out a rendition of One Hand, One Heart in front of thousands of her adoring fans."

"There were no auditions," Rachel nearly sneered, "I was a shoo-in for Maria and none of the girls were brave enough to compete, and since all of the other guys have after school jobs, probation or wheel chairs, Blaine was our only option. We would have chosen you since you're more experienced, but… Mr. Schuester said you were too feminine. We asked Blaine not to fess up about it, either, and he agreed because he didn't want to hurt your feelings. But now that Blaine's backing out, the coward, you might be our Tony."

Kurt tried to not let it bother him that Blaine agreed that he was too feminine for a role like Tony, "And if Blaine accepts? What about the other roles?"

"Oh, those can just be scattered around to anyone. Trust me, Kurt, we're not lacking on the Jets and Sharks. Even the jock brains could be rallied up for those. Any man with half a brain could spin on his heel, snap his fingers and doo-wop behind me while I sing my big number. All eyes will be on me, anyway." When Kurt didn't instantly respond to Rachel, she laughed, "Oh, you meant for you! I guess you could be Officer Krupke. It wouldn't be that difficult a part to learn on such short notice. You'd have about… three or four lines and no musical outbursts, that way you can't steal the show from the rightful, main characters… like you always seem to do."

He wondered if she was out to insult him because she didn't like him or because she felt threatened. "Officer Krupke is… fine… I suppose. With any luck, I'll get plenty more lead roles on the Broadway stage. I'll talk things over with Blaine, but I'm sure he just hasn't checked his email in quite a while. He's not a man to be intimidated, Rachel."

That last seemed to cause her pause, but then she covered with, "I'm sure. Yes, think about things and come to the play practice. We'll be handing out scripts and running the songs once or twice. It'll be a great show! And, Kurt, you'll be a _fantastic_ Officer Krupke."

The line clicked off and Kurt was left stunned, so many secrets and rumors and insults thrown at him he wasn't sure where to look first. Blaine, who must have noticed that he could hardly move a muscle, reached across him and took the phone from his hand, then put it aside. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "Okay, baby?"

Kurt moved against Blaine, pressing deeper into his chest, "You didn't tell me you were asked to be Tony."

Blaine sighed on the nape of his neck, "I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't expect it to come out like this. The girls… Rachel, Tina and Mercedes… asked me not to mention it to you because they thought you were too delicate. I didn't agree or disagree with them. I've always thought you could take any role and play it to perfection, but… I never told you because… for one thing, I forgot all about it. It wasn't that important to me then, and it isn't now. But… Schuester told me there are kissing scenes… and I guess I was so jealous and I never want your mouth anywhere near Rachel's—"

"Don't fret so," Kurt reassured him, "I'm not interested in playing Tony. I suppose… it only hurt when Rachel mentioned that _you_ thought I was too feminine for a role like that."

"No," Blaine shook his head, "I've never told Rachel anything like that. You… do have more feminine qualities and I very much so appreciate them, but, Kurt, you are definitely a boy with masculine needs."

Appeased, Kurt rolled until he faced Blaine, and Blaine began tracing patterns with his fingertips on Kurt's naked back. "I just needed to hear you say that, Blaine, and I'm glad I can trust you to never say such backstabbing things about me."

Blaine smiled and squeezed Kurt, "But, sweetheart… if you don't want Tony, what role is it?"

"Please, Blaine," Kurt rolled his eyes, "gang fights, knives and flirting with women doesn't get my heart racing. It's Maria… She's the role I've always wanted to play. She's inspiring in herself, besides her terrible fashion sense… but it's my mother who makes me think so highly of her. While I was young and my mother was touring France, I would sometimes turn on the TV and sit in front of it, and watch her perform. She played Maria in West Side Story, which was the first show I'd ever seen my mother in, and I thought she was lovely. It's been a dream of mine ever since to step into her shoes and play Maria as well as she did."

"You want to play Maria?" Blaine nudged Kurt's chin up so he could meet his blue eyes, "I think you'd be a better Maria than Rachel. You're more beautiful and talented than her. I'd be your Tony any day, but… I can't with Rachel."

"Oh, you should, Blaine," Kurt cupped his face in his hands, "You'd be a wonderful Tony. Would you like to be him?"

Blaine shrugged, "I guess I would. I've never really considered it before. But, I think I could pull him off. We have a lot in common. He's a reformed asshole, and so am I. And he has a beautiful girl on his arm, and I have a beautiful boy on mine."

"Blaine, this part is meant for you!" Kurt thoroughly agreed, "No Jack Wagner nor Don McKay could have possibly done it better than you could." Blaine only sighed and ran a hand over his hair, so Kurt arched his brows, "Blaine, it isn't like you to let someone get in the way of something you want. You said this to me at Regionals… What you just did was for you. So, let this be for you, Blaine. You may not like Rachel, but don't let avoiding her be more important than doing what you love."

After a moment of considering things, Blaine finally nodded his head, "Fine. I'll… be Tony."

"You will?" Kurt looked startled, as if he hadn't been expecting Blaine to accept. "Blaine, that's fantastic! You'll be the greatest Tony!"

Blaine swallowed harshly, but then smiled and rolled Kurt underneath him, "One day you'll be Maria, Kurt, and I can't wait to watch that performance. But, for now you can just be my Maria." Wrapping his arms around a giggling Kurt, Blaine flipped over so Kurt was poised on top of him, and he tried not to gag in disgust as he dreaded the days ahead, of Rachel rubbing his arm, batting her lashes at him, planting her lips on his skin…

Or worse, the devastated look on Kurt's face when their lips met.

* * *

Blaine propped open the auditorium door for Kurt and nudged him inside, both of them slipping in silently as they heard Schuester muttering, "…are the scripts. Go through them and pick out your lines. Finn, you'll be a stand-in for Tony today. Can someone call Santana to see if she'll be available to do the play?"

While everyone bent over the stacks of papers and started highlighting lines, Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist and hollered, "Schuester, I'll play Tony."

Schuester's head snapped up from helping Sam decide if he wanted to play Diesel or Indio. He was so relieved that the color washed from his face, "Blaine! I'm so glad you showed up! It's been a mess recruiting a new Tony. Oh!" He twisted around and pointed at Finn, who was going over one of the scenes with Rachel. "Never mind, Finn! Blaine's here! Blaine, Finn has your script and… your costume is backstage if you want to have it fitted by dress rehearsal. For the last ten minutes, you and Rachel will be warming up with Tonight."

He trailed off as he noticed Kurt under Blaine's elbow, and he smiled awkwardly, "Hi, Kurt. If you want to take a seat over there, you can watch—"

"Actually, Mr. Schuester," Kurt pointed at a stack of scripts, "if I may, I'd like to play Officer Krupke. May I have one of those to memorize my lines?"

Schuester abruptly appeared very flustered, and he rubbed his nape, "Um… Kurt… Artie already has the role of Krupke. Those scripts are for the students who need extra credit and signed up to play the minor Sharks and Jets. I'm afraid everything's taken. Finn's playing Riff, Sam's either Diesel or Indio, Mercedes and Tina are Estella and Margarita, Quinn's Minnie, Puck's Chino, and Mike's Bernardo."

Kurt tried again, trying not to look as dejected as he felt, "And what about the role you wanted Santana for?"

"That's Anita." Schuester shook his head, "No, Kurt. You're not playing a girl." Without giving Kurt much of a chance to think up anything he could do backstage or any small part he could play, Schuester pointed at a lone set of rows again, "Go sit over there. I can't waste any more time." He spun away from them and clapped his hands, "Krupke, Jets, Sharks, on stage! Let's run the first scene!"

Blaine immediately started after Schuester, "No, he can't treat you like this. You're getting some part in this play and that's final—"

"Blaine, please," Kurt snatched Blaine by the back of his coat before he got very far, "don't make a scene about this. I'll enjoy watching you perform from the audience. I'm used to this kind of treatment. During my first Broadway play my name was forgotten quite a few times, and once someone even thought I was sneaking in to record the dress rehearsal. I'll be fine, Blaine."

Blaine ran a hand over his hair, which clued Kurt in that he might be distressed, "I don't like it, Kurt, you being left by yourself out here. Just… come find me if you get lonely or…"

"Blaine," Kurt pressed their lips, "you'll just be up there, not a continent away. Don't worry so much." Kurt smoothed a palm over Blaine's wrinkled forward, then lifted on his toes to press a kiss to it, "I swear, with how much you worry about me, you should have permanent lines all over your face. Go try on your outfit, Tony, then let me see. I'll make the adjustments and add the right…" He swirled his hands as he thought of the best word for it—probably a mere confusion of English words, "pizazz to it."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine laughed, "Well, if I'm not the best Tony in history, I'll be the most bedazzled one."

Both Kurt and Blaine turned their heads as Rachel, who had been abandoned when Finn went to practice his first scene, pranced up to them with a beaming smile. "Blaine, I'm glad you decided to be Tony. You'll be great, but I do have a few adjustments for the script… Like this scene… Tonight. Now, when it says that you enter first, I want to change that. I think I should enter first to give the scene a more feminine—"

"Rachel," Blaine shrugged her off, "I'm going backstage to try on my costume. Kurt wants to see it. We'll go over the scenes later."

Rachel stamped her foot, putting her hands on her hips, "Blaine, you can look at your costume after rehearsal! We don't have time to mess around now! This is an important production for me because it's showcasing _my_ voice, so do what you want with your costume later but right now focus on me! We need to perfect this!"

Blaine's eyes slightly widened, and he automatically yanked his wrist away when Rachel snatched it, "Rachel… do what you have to with the script. I don't care about the changes. If you don't need me right now, I'd rather stay with Kurt."

Furious, Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, "Let's just slack off, then, Blaine. I should have known this would happen! You can't spend two seconds out of the company of Kurt! Let me tell you this. Carmen Tibideaux might be coming to this performance and that means my entire future hangs on opening night, so don't mess this up for me! We need to practice Tonight."

Opening his mouth to refuse again, Blaine glanced at Kurt when he nudged him, "Blaine… it's alright. I'll look at your costume at home."

Rachel gladly took Blaine's arm again and pulled him away, only to pause to acknowledge Kurt for the first time, "Sorry, Kurt, about not getting a part. They must have all been taken while you and Blaine were ditching school for, like, the thousandth time. You have to really want this and be there every day, even choosing it over your boyfriend, to get big opportunities. Maybe next time you won't have a man in your life and you'll get the part of Meat Loaf in Rocky Horror Picture Show… you know, that ex-delivery boy that no one really remembers or likes, which is exactly where your Broadway career is headed if you keep this boyfriend-crazed behavior up."

Blaine went for another escape, nearly falling over a music stand behind him he wrenched away from Rachel so forcefully, "_Rachel._ Don't you _ever _talk to him like that again—"

Rachel smiled and patted Blaine's back, "Good intensity, Blaine. Keep that up for the fight scene at the end. Okay, for Tonight… so, I enter and say…"

Kurt stood there by himself until their voices faded away, then he blinked to clear his head of the hopeful thinking that he was only dreaming, but when he came back to himself, everything was the same. He was alone and his boyfriend was in the hands of Rachel, probably getting scolded at the moment for breathing the wrong way. He flicked his eyes around and realized that the seats were completely vacated, and that everyone was either backstage or onstage.

On the stage, Finn was throwing a faked punch at Sam's head, and there was an incoherent shout as someone else attempted to speak in what sounded like a New Jersey accent, even though the story was set in New York City. Schuester cut everyone off and instantly corrected the mistake, then told them to start again.

Already lonely, Kurt padded over to one of the chairs on the edge of a row and plopped into it, his eyes watching the scene they were redoing. This time, the scene flourished and Schuester waved everyone away, shouting, "Tony and Maria, to the stage!"

A moment later the curtain flew open, and out stormed Rachel firing off the corrections she'd been making to the script. Schuester batted her down and told her he'd think about what she said, then demanded to hear their first take on Tonight.

The music cued, a slow, beautiful melody that Kurt couldn't help singing along with. He'd been humming the tune since he was very young. "Tonight, tonight…" he purred along with Blaine, his emotionless boyfriend staring at something on the wall, but nothing at the same time.

At last, he flicked his eyes away from what had his attention, and he scanned over to Kurt, while his eyes should have been on Rachel, the supposed object of his affections in this scene. Blaine seemed interested in Kurt, because he didn't tear his eyes from him, "There's only you tonight…"

Kurt's heart thumped unusually hard, and part of him believed that Blaine was singing the lovely tune to him, "I saw you and the world went away…"

Blaine was extremely engrossed in Kurt at that point, "Sleep well and when you dream, dream of me…"

Kurt and Blaine grinned at each other, the first time Blaine had shown an emotion since leaving Kurt, "There's only you tonight…"


	49. A Boy Like That

Author's note: Another West Side Story chapter! I watched the movie so now I know the plotline better than what searching the internet gave me, and I also used some WSS dialogue in this chapter. If you find the Grease reference, I'll give you a cookie :P So... this chapter was really hard to write but thanks to my lovely beta I managed to get through it. It's still not perfect because I couldn't write it the way I had it in my head, but it's better than my first fifty drafts. What came out was Rachel acting psychotic, Blaine having a meltdown and Kurt crawling under his bed while Finn tries to not get punched, so... enjoy my awkward chapter! :D

CraftyBynamite: Thanks for your review, it really got me thinking on new ideas I could work with. I know this story isn't that realistic, but I feel like even though Kurt and Blaine are in high school, they should act more like adults since Kurt is a celebrity and starting a career, and Blaine just doesn't seem like the type to act childlike. I get what you mean about Schuester switching so quickly from Kurt being his favorite to having Kurt sit out of the play, but that just has to do with him thinking that Kurt's too fragile for a play like West Side Story. Yeah, I agree that the grade drop was a lot, but I think the teachers had good intentions in putting that big of a threat up if the football players didn't show. It wasn't really about them cutting the grades in half, but hopefully forcing the football players and glee club members to work together. I've gotten suggestions about Blaine going to the police, but I also don't think he's the type to rely on someone else to fix his problems. I'll take other ideas and suggestions if you have them :)

* * *

Kurt knelt next to his bed and bent over until his stomach brushed the carpet, and with wide eyes he searched the underneath of his bed. A few boxes of Blaine's things that he hadn't the time to unpack had begun to build up, which Kurt kept in mind for later. But he had an eye for his pale pink chest, and finding it he sighed happily. Wiggling farther under the metal rails, Kurt snagged the edges of it and gave it a tug.

Sticking his tongue out at the corner, Kurt squinted and yanked again, but the chest was wedged between the floor and one of the rails, absolutely stuck. "Oh, _s'il vous plaît._" He moaned, as if pleading with it would make any difference.

From behind him, his curious, little bird chirped at his writhing legs, and he felt Pavarotti nip one of his wiggling toes. "Oh, Pavarotti!" he flicked his foot, obviously startling the tiny chirper when Pavarotti beat his wings hard enough for Kurt to hear them hitting his body with every flap, and he made a throaty, squawking noise. "Go get your papa! Go find Blaine!"

His bird, who couldn't understand a word he was saying, proudly twittered and climbed onto the arch of his foot and made himself a seat. Kurt sighed and thought about hitting his head on the floor, then considered it less after picturing the red print that would be left on his face. "Pavarotti, you're of absolutely no help right now."

His bird chirped at him and started his humming that made Kurt think he might be purring, but he didn't budge an inch.

"Okay, we're doing this the hard way," Kurt decided, sliding deeper under the bed until nothing but his knees and lower would be visible to anyone who might happen to walk in, and he tried pushing on the chest.

Kurt tilted his head and pressed on one of the rails hovering above the chest. With another nudge to the box, he was relieved when he scooted it a little. He found the next rail and pushed on it, and soon enough he had the chest halfway out from under the bed.

Breathless and sore, Kurt boosted himself to his knees but kept his cheek close to the floor, and he wriggled his way out butt first. Making sure he wouldn't knock his head, he stretched his legs and sat up slowly. Kurt glanced over his shoulder at his bird, who perked up as he discovered that Kurt had drug something interesting out, and he quickly hopped off his foot and scurried around the bed. After a moment of brushing the dust off, Kurt wobbled to his feet and followed him.

He found Pavarotti already perched on the chest and pecking at it, and Kurt struggled to pick it and his bird up. Spinning on his heel, Kurt placed it on the bed sheets and plopped beside of it. Kurt took his noisy bird on his finger and unlatched the hooks, carefully opening the chest and sitting back to admire the interior. "This is all my childhood," he whispered to Pavarotti, smoothing his fingers over a photo album, "Oh, Pavarotti, isn't it lovely? I was such a spoiled child to have my own music box, and so many photos and videos of me doing the silliest things… like eating cookie dough or playing in the snow. My parents must have adored me."

Pavarotti inspected the things within the chest, his head bobbing as he examined every piece. Then, without a second thought, he hopped from Kurt's finger and fluttered onto one of Kurt's baby outfits. Chirping, Pavarotti curled up and buried his head in his chest. Kurt helplessly laughed, "At least some of us can appreciate memories."

Kurt pulled out a few photo albums and Barbra Streisand records from her prime, and he grinned as he found exactly what he'd been wanting after. He lifted the precious fabric from the chest and held it up to his face, breathing in the faint hint of raspberries and spices, the fragrance nearly overwhelmed by the rank odor of dust and aged cottons.

"It's still so beautiful," he ran his fingertips over the intricate pattern at the collar, "and smells just like her. Do you think it would fit, Pavarotti?"

The only answer he received was a snore, which caused the corners of his blue eyes to wrinkle with a beautiful smile curving his lips, "_Men._"

Getting to his feet, Kurt reached for the back of his shirt and unzipped it, then he flicked it to the floor. Next he unbuttoned his frayed shorts and those dropped from his thighs, and he stepped out of his riding boots. Left only in his spankies, Kurt checked the door to assure that it was closed and finally relaxed, lifting the dress above his head.

The cool material slid over his body and he poked his hands through the sleeves, lowering his arms and straightening the dress over his hips and smoothing the skirt. Although the bodice was baggy, the dress fit snuggly over his waist and butt. The skirt fell just past the middle of his thighs, an inappropriate length for the modest character of Maria and not the intended length when his mother wore it for the play, but it wasn't terrible for Kurt.

Glancing up once he'd batted most of the age off of it, Kurt turned to his mirror and was delighted for the most part, except for that one out-of-place hair from when he'd been jostled around under the bed and, of course, the bulky bodice. Other than that, he felt… pretty.

He smiled as the song popped into his head, and quietly, so he didn't stir Pavarotti or be heard by anyone, Kurt hummed, "I feel pretty…" Stepping to the side, Kurt reached up to his sleeve when it dropped from his shoulder and he brushed it into place, "and witty and bright!"

Laughing at his own ridiculous behavior, Kurt returned to the chest and scooped up the matching heels, an old-fashioned, stiletto pair. He slipped his feet into them, pleased with the light squeeze on his soft skin, just tight enough without having to fear red lines. "And I pity any girl who isn't me tonight."

He looked down at the tops of his pale feet, spinning in a circle and catching his skirt between two fingers. "I feel pretty—"

Twirling, Kurt smiled and pivoted around for a dramatic finish when his body bumped into something very hard, and he heard a quiet, breathy laugh from his onlooker. Kurt gasped in surprise and his eyes flashed to Blaine, who slid one hand down to Kurt's waist and pressed their fingertips together on Kurt's open hand. When Blaine shuddered, Kurt squeezed his palm, "My hands are cold…" he felt the coolness of Blaine's fingers on his knuckles and the center of his palm as Blaine rubbed the spot, "Yours, too."

Shivering at the chill of Blaine's hand, Kurt slid his fingers out of the spaces between Blaine's and reached for his face. He stroked his jaw, cheekbones and sideburns, "So warm."

Blaine smiled at the adoring attention he was receiving, and he ached to kiss the place just above Kurt's furrowed brows, his mouth dry for a taste, "So beautiful…"

Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck, and unaware of Blaine's longings to kiss him, Kurt stretched to press his lips to Blaine's, "Beautiful."

Laughing at that, Blaine rolled his eyes, "It's so much to believe. You're not making a joke?"

Kurt shook his head, lowering his hands and twining their fingers between them, "I have not yet learned how to joke that way. I think now I never will."

Blaine froze on the spot, captivated by Kurt's charm and loving affections. Taking Kurt against him, Blaine hummed into his shoulder and swished their hips side to side. "This dress," Blaine pinched the back of it, "you got it out of that chest?"

"Uh huh," Kurt pressed his cheek to Blaine's heart, "It's vintage from when my mother played Maria. Is it not beautiful?"

Blaine swallowed, and he held Kurt tighter, "It's… very pretty, Kurt. You're a precious jewel in it." Pressing a kiss to Kurt's shoulder, Blaine stiffened when he felt someone pat his arm, and with an animalistic snarl he whipped around and snapped at the intruder, gathering Kurt so close to his chest that they could have counted as one person.

"Whoa!" Finn stumbled away, almost dropping the paper in his hand. "What's your problem, Blaine? I thought we were cool again."

Blaine realized he had prickled at the wrong person and gulped down air, humiliated that he'd reacted so negatively to the guy who'd been as good as a brother nearly all of his teenage years. Kurt understood what had happened a moment later, and he patted the side of Blaine's neck while pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Shh… Blaine, calm down. He's not here."

"Who's not here?" Someone chirped behind Finn, unaware of Blaine's harsh panting as he sucked wet breaths in and out, his eyes almost black. Even Finn figured it out a second after he'd tried to cool Blaine off, and he threw the oblivious person a harsh glare.

"Sorry, man," Finn held his hands up to show that he would do no harm, "I… forgot about…" he didn't dare say the name, "you know."

"Finn." Kurt cut his brother off and rubbed his hands over Blaine's back and nape, "Shh… everything's alright."

Blaine shuddered and stretched against Kurt, finally snapping out of his panic and embarrassment, and he squinted at Finn, "What is it, Finn? I'm busy."

Finn kept his distance, guilty that he'd aggravated Blaine into a tetchy temperament, "I just… wanted your help on this thing."

Despite his affections he'd shared with Kurt just moments ago, Blaine was relentless in biting and hissing, "What thing?" he growled curtly, his pupils dilating so only specks and flicks of gold sparkled in his black eyes.

Finn made a gesture with his hand, then pointed at the paper, "I'm… birthday present shopping for Kurt. I didn't want to ask him and you know a lot about him—"

Kurt opened his mouth to assure Finn that he didn't need any presents, but Blaine already moved forward and snatched the list from Finn, still ignoring the surprisingly quiet person behind Finn. "Fine," Blaine flicked his eyes to Kurt, and they softened as he looked at him. He returned to him and cupped Kurt's face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "I'll be back in a minute. If you need me I'll be in Finn's room."

"Cool," Finn said, unsurely taking Blaine's elbow in his hand and luckily receiving no explosion of emotions or more spitting and violent outbursts out of Blaine. "I guess… Kurt and Rach can hang out while we're gone. I'll only need a moment. I won't keep him long, Kurt."

"Good," Kurt smiled, fretfully watching his boyfriend stride out the door under Finn's arm, still having never acknowledged Rachel, who stared after the two boys longingly.

It bothered Kurt that he didn't know which one she was batting her lashes at.

"Hi, Rachel," Kurt said politely, and she twisted around to grin at him, "what are you doing here? Finn didn't tell me we were having company."

"He invited me over," Rachel mumbled, her eyes sliding down to his dress then back up to his face, "I hope you don't mind. When Finn wasn't living with you, I was at his house _all_ the time so we'll probably be seeing much more of each other."

Kurt's first reaction was to drop the smile from his face, but he struggled not to, "Oh… that's perfect, Rachel. I'm so glad because you're so nice to talk to when I need girl time." Rachel didn't respond, her eyes on his dress again, which made him the slightest bit uncomfortable as he checked to make sure it hadn't slipped down to his stomach. "So… how is the play? The rehearsals are marvelous, Rachel. Your rendition of One Hand, One Heart is breathtaking."

"It should be after all the work I've put into it," Rachel twisted her lips into a toothy smile, and she cocked one brow, "It's such a shame Blaine isn't putting in half the effort. He still sounds so monotone. And, get this, we haven't practiced the kiss scene once! He's so unprofessional. It's not like it's _cheating_ on you. I bring it up and all he wants to do is watch the Jets and Sharks rehearse fight scenes or stare at you from behind the curtain—"

Kurt tilted his head, "He stares at me?" Kurt felt rather flattered and suddenly shy about grooving to the music and mouthing the words from his seat.

"Mm hm," she bobbed her head, crossing her arms. "The other day I spent ten minutes hunting him down so we could rehearse Somewhere and guess where I found him? Hunched over one of the ladders, on his phone, having a conversation with Santana! He said he was just talking about West Side Story with her and I believe him about that because I talked to her and she said she is coming to opening night and that she's practicing her lines and songs at the hospital. I have no idea how she's getting away with that—"

"She's coming to opening?" Kurt repeated like a little parrot, his dimples popped and lips tugged to each ear.

Rachel sighed, and she jutted a hip out like she'd broken it, "Yes, Kurt, I already mentioned that. Anyway, so I find him, and later on he tells me _that,_ but what do I hear when I approach him? Him talking about some big, extravagant party that he's so nervous about! Unless it's a party to celebrate opening night that he's all frantic over, he needs to be focusing on the performance."

"He was talking about a big, extravagant party?" Kurt resisted bouncing on his toes. This was all working out in his favor, his best friend he hadn't seen in so long coming to perform in his favorite play, and his boyfriend planning a birthday party for him.

Rachel looked annoyed, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Rather than cover material she'd already blabbed about, Rachel finally revealed her issues with his dress. "Kurt, haven't I seen that dress before?" She answered her own question, "Yes, I have. It's West Side Story material."

"Oh," Kurt ran his hands over the fabric, "yes. This was my mother's dress when she performed as Maria—"

"You're posing as Maria?" Rachel scoffed, her eyes widening to the size of saucers, "Kurt, are you jealous of me and trying to look better than me in that knock-off dress?"

"What?" Kurt wrapped his arms around himself, eyes huge with concern, "Knock-off? Rachel, my mother played Maria on Broadway and kept this dress. She let me have it when I was only young. When I used to put it on for my fashion shows, she would tell me that she filled out the dress a little better but that I made a prettier Maria than she ever did."

Rachel put her hands on her hips, "Are you saying you're prettier than me, too?"

"No!" Kurt shook his head desperately, "I'm not trying to compete! I just like staying close to my mom—"

Rachel wasn't listening, and she tugged at the front of his bodice, "Because you're not, Kurt. This dress is tacky and old and the material is all wrong. It's cheap, just like you. See, it's already unraveling at this sleeve. Do you actually think you can buy some worn out dress at a thrift store and be better than me? Is that how ugly you think I am?"

Tears swam in his eyes, and his bottom lip quivered, "Rachel, stop! You'll ruin it!"

Yanking at the sleeve, Rachel jumped herself as the material tore right in half, as if deep down she knew Kurt wasn't lying, but then she irately wagged a finger in his face, "You're not better than me, Kurt! You can't steal Maria from me and you can't steal Blaine, either!" In a state of irrational loathing, Rachel drew her hand back and slapped Kurt's cheek, not hard enough to do any damage, but hurtful enough for him to cry out Blaine's name, needing him, and press his own hand to it.

At Kurt's distressed sound, there was a thud from somewhere downstairs, and then someone incoherently yelling. Thundering footsteps up the stairs caused Kurt to recoil uneasily and hold his aching cheek against his shoulder, the ripped material of his sleeve growing damp with his tears. Rachel seemed stunned, as well, as she wouldn't stop staring at her hands then looking at Kurt.

Within seconds, a massive body bolted into the room and nearly knocked Kurt down with the force that it enveloped him against his chest. Knocked breathless, Kurt didn't make a sound but went soft against Blaine, who immediately had him up in the air and their noses level. "Shh…" Blaine ran his fingers over the apparently visible mark, and Kurt hoped it was only red and not swollen and bruised. "I've got you. Don't cry, Kurt."

Finn arrived after Blaine, panting and wild eyed. "What happened up here? Kurt, did you bang your cheek on something? Dude, talk to me."

Blaine peppered kisses over the raw skin, then snapped out of cooing over Kurt to roar at Finn, "They're in the shapes of fingers, the red spots!" He whipped around to Rachel, who had never seen Blaine look so terrible, "You hit him."

Finn didn't like that accusation, "Now, Blaine—"

Rachel covered her face and shook her head, "I didn't mean to! It's just… Kurt takes everything from me and I panicked! He took you and now he's trying to take Maria—!"

Finn's mouth dropped open, "What? Kurt took Blaine from you?" He anxiously considered Blaine for his opinion, "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Blaine? Have you been with my girlfriend?"

Blaine arched one brow at Finn, his lips curling over his teeth, "Don't ever accuse me of cheating on Kurt again. You know better than that, Finn."

"I don't know what to think right now—!"

Blaine cut him off, carefully putting Kurt on the ground and patting him toward Finn, "Take Kurt to the bathroom and ice his cheek. If you hurt him once—if he makes the tiniest peep of discomfort—you'll face worse than your obsessive girlfriend wanting to cheat on you!" His eyes flashed toward Rachel, and he lunged at her and snatched her wrist, yanking her out of the room, "You're coming with me."

"Blaine!" Finn shouted after him to no feat.

Blaine thudded down the stairs with a sobbing Rachel trailing behind him, which quickly alerted the attention of Burt, who was sitting in the living room. "Blaine! Hey!" he shouted, "What are you doing? Hon, are you alright? Where's Kurt at? And where's Finn? You can't just drag a crying girl outside like that—"

Blaine made a sound so horrific that Burt's butt quickly met his seat again, "She hit him!" he yelled, "Just like you did! And if you cared about him at all you'd go upstairs and comfort him like the dad you're supposed to be!"

Leaving it at that, Blaine continued to the door and ripped it open, storming onto the lawn without much care to any onlookers. Blaine thought that after walking a little his temper would recede, dull down, but he was just as much in a rage as he had been when he'd first seen the red fingerprints on Kurt's cheek. He feared how he would have reacted had he seen the slap happen, the palm across Kurt's precious, rosy cheek, seeing the panic on his face, the tears leak from his eyes… He wondered if Kurt had wanted him to come for him, if he'd cried out his name.

Once he was far enough from the house so that Kurt wouldn't be able to see them out the window, Blaine shoved Rachel in front of him and found no pity for her runny nose and eyes, her pink cheeks, her weepy apologies. He felt only… a white fire deep in his stomach, a knot in his throat, something far worse than wrath.

Throwing his hands, Blaine grabbed her shoulders and put his face inches from hers, "You were jealous because of me so you hit my boyfriend?"

Rachel whimpered, but didn't say a word.

He tossed her away, unable to even look at her, "You have Finn, Rachel! He loves you! I never did, but you follow me everywhere during rehearsals, and you almost stomped on my phone because I was talking to Santana, who isn't even my _girlfriend,_ and then Kurt found that fucking diary—!"

"Diary?" Rachel's head shot up, "That's where my diary went? He stole it?"

Blaine shouted so loudly he almost blew his vocal chords out, "As if you had any right to it! He took it to me because he was afraid! What you're doing is inappropriate, Rachel! We both have boyfriends—!"

"Stop saying that!" she shrieked at him, "You don't love him or respect him and you're just using him like you used the rest of us! I don't know for what reason yet but you need to stop, Blaine! Kurt's fragile—he can't defend himself against you! I know how you are. You're a selfish, cruel jock block who's setting up the prank of the year! You and Karofsky aren't even fighting, I bet. You're just planning the meanest trick ever on a naïve, gay kid who doesn't know a real man from someone like _you!_"

Blaine grinded his teeth together and his fingers twitched and, damn, did he want to satisfy his cravings and… He stiffened his fingers, desperately fighting it, and he shook his head, "Rachel, I'm gay!" he blurted, startling even himself. "You heard me at Booty Camp… Karofsky raped me. He's dead to me. I'm Kurt's now—"

Blaine was silenced when Rachel leapt on him and cupped his face, her lips covering his. She worked his mouth for a few, minimal seconds before he came around to himself and took in what exactly was happening. Instantly shoving her off, Blaine spat and wiped his sleeve over his mouth, "Rachel, stop! Take _no _for an answer! I'm in love with Kurt and I'm gay and I will _never _be yours!"

Blaine whipped away from her and jogged up to his house, relieved to leave her behind and even more so to return to his precious jewel… his Maria.

* * *

Finn patted the cotton ball over Kurt's sore cheek, wincing when Kurt mewled, "Sorry. You won't tell Blaine that I hurt you, right?"

Kurt shook his head, "No… of course not. You're hardly brushing the spots… I'm just too sensitive. Thank you for helping me, Finn."

Both of them were alerted by the door smashing open, and in charged Blaine, who once again gathered Kurt up with enough power to knock him from his perch on the sink counter. "Oh, my sweet…" Blaine moaned and kissed the side of Kurt's head, "Sweetheart, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm perfect, Blaine," Kurt returned Blaine's kiss and stiffened only for a moment when he tasted a hint of cherries, something Blaine's lips never tasted like and a lip blush flavor that he didn't own.

Blaine ducked his head and kissed Kurt's neck, his lips decorating anywhere he could find his skin, "I agree wholeheartedly with that."

Before Blaine forgot there were others in the room—if he even noticed them in the first place—Burt, who had taken Blaine's advice and went to pacify his son, cleared his throat, while Finn tapped Blaine's arm, carefully and gently this time so he didn't come off as aggressive, "Hey, dude… where's Rach at?"

Blaine sat down on the edge of the sink counter and pulled Kurt onto his lap, cradling him, "She's outside," he said, turning his attention to Kurt to check his fading red spots. Once Finn walked halfway out the door, Blaine cleared his throat, "Finn… Rachel kissed me."

The color drained from Kurt's face, so he swiftly added, "I pushed her away." Running his fingers through Kurt's hair, Blaine kissed the top of his head to soothe him, "Finn, do as you want as far as your relationship goes, but I don't want Rachel back here or anywhere near Kurt. Understand my terms?"

Finn, recovering from what he'd been told, feebly bobbed his head, "Yeah… dude… I'll, uh, talk to you later. I'm going to find Rachel and talk this out with her, then I'll probably spend the night at Puck's."

"Goodbye, Finn," Kurt chirped as Finn walked away in a daze, his eyes flickering and his lips parted as he mulled things over.

Burt moved from the corner and patted Kurt's knee, "I'll have Carole pick something up, kid. I can see that now's not a good time for you to fix something up."

Kurt blinked at his dad, "Okay."

Swallowing, Burt patted his knee again and looked strained, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what, then nodded, "I'll call you down when she gets home."

"Thank you, Dad." Kurt watched Burt lumber from the room, then turned his head to focus on Blaine. "Oh, poor Finn…" he whispered, "I can't imagine how terrible he feels. Are you alright, Blaine?"

"Yeah," Blaine pressed his face into Kurt's neck, "Kurt, I didn't kiss back. I wouldn't cheat on you. You know that, right, baby?"

Kurt looped his arms around his neck and sighed, "Of course I do. I've never doubted you. You're far too hopelessly devoted to me to even consider it, aren't you? Oh, Blaine, everything around us. I feel like… someone's always trying to take you from me."

Blaine flicked Kurt's nose, then bent to press his lips to the pointy tip, "As if I don't feel the same about you. I'll take you away where nothing can get to us, not anyone or anything."


	50. One Hand, One Heart

Author's note: Last chapter of West Side Story :) One more chapter until Kurt's spectacular, _magnifique_ birthday! If anyone can guess what Cooper's surprise will be and what Blaine will get Kurt for his birthday, you get a cookie :) Thanks to my lovely beta who I couldn't have gotten this far without, and thanks to my wonderful readers who make me smile with every review/favorite/alert! I love all of you! :D

leahmo34: Thanks so much for sticking with this story! I'm sure you figured most everything out in my chapters, but just to be sure, no, Kurt didn't lose his virginity to Sebastian, and during the party chapter, Karofsky didn't do anything to Kurt. He just pinned him against the wall and that was it before Blaine showed up. I didn't write any smut in the beginning because I heard rumors about FanFiction kicking people off for writing it, but then another of my reviewers told me it was just for a lot of smut and I don't really think I write "a lot." Blaine is refusing to go to Paris with Kurt because he's going to have Coop's baby and wants to keep him in a secure, permanent home and also doesn't want his brother worrying too much about him flying the baby to different continents. He also doesn't think he's cut out for Paris and that he was born a Lima loser and has no way of changing that. But he also wants Kurt to spend some time away from him to figure out if Blaine is really what he wants. If you have anymore concerns or questions about my story, just review or PM me :)

P.S. I'm going to see Struck By Lightning tomorrow :D I'm so super duper excited for this! "Two... four... six... eight... Heard you like to fornicate!" Chris Colfer = Beautiful

* * *

Blaine adjusted the collar of his shirt, then pushed the curtain aside only an inch to get a peek at the action onstage. The play was only ten minutes in and already a hit, the Jets and the Sharks snapping their fingers, prowling circles around each other, some of them breaking into leaps, jolts and shimmies that had the audience in an uproar of both laughter and amazement. Soon enough, the wild dancing came to a finish and the Jets gathered in the middle of the stage while the Sharks darted off, and the audience swiftly hopped onto their toes and applauded heartily for the boys.

Managing to clap his own fingers together for his friends, Blaine watched them glide easily into the next scene, the Jets discussing how badly they wanted to knock the Sharks down a peg, and how they needed Tony to get the job done. Finn put on an excellent façade as Riff, despite how beaten up and out of it he'd been ever since he found out that his girlfriend kissed Blaine.

Blaine thought distastefully of Rachel and twisted around to watch her at her dressing table as she threw a fit about how Tina had grabbed the dress in the wrong shade of blue or something of the sorts. He didn't care that much, and turned back to the stage right as Finn burst into a rendition of Jet Song.

How could he ever compete with their heartfelt performances? He was beginning to long after just being one of the minor Jets or Sharks, not the main role of Tony. Besides killing Bernardo, Tony's plot revolved entirely around Maria, and Blaine barely had one scene without Rachel in it. He doubted he'd make much of a Tony since he felt nothing for Rachel, and could hardly glimpse at her without grinding his teeth and peeling his lips back.

A noise distracted him from his terrible thoughts, a pretty sound like a high-pitched bell, the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard… He whipped around and met Kurt face to face, his boyfriend rosy and smiling. He was lovely in a knee-length, white, lamp skirt and a white jacket with a rose pinned to the lapel, and a glittering top underneath that.

"Hi, Tony," Kurt held up a small flower, the stem curled slightly around his finger, "I want to give you a flower."

Blaine's eyes were focused on that flower as Kurt swished up to him, and then as Kurt drew near to tuck the flower into Blaine's breast pocket, he looked over Kurt's shoulder at his round ass, so tight and perfect as it pressed against the fabric of his skirt. He was dazzling in that little skirt that teased Blaine's mind in such an arousing way, but he couldn't wait to peel the thing off Kurt and squeeze those ass cheeks—

"There," Kurt patted Blaine's chest once he was finished—Blaine thought he might have touched him for a little too long, but he'd been so caught up in Kurt's ass he hardly noticed anything else, "Every gentleman should have a boutonniere on his tuxedo," Kurt slid his fingers under Blaine's chin and lifted his head so their eyes met, "and no gentleman should stare so boldly in public."

"Blaine, a gentleman?" Scoffed a voice from nearby, and both of them turned their heads to find Santana strutting up to them, beaming as she opened her arms, "Tony is a proper man, Blaine, whose eyes never wander. It'd be smart of you to practice up on getting into character, since you and him have so little in common."

Blaine chuckled at Santana's teasing just as Kurt slipped from his grip and tossed himself at Santana, "Oh, Santana, we've both missed you so much!"

Santana embraced Kurt tightly, then moved onto Blaine and pulled him close. Blaine returned her hug, grateful for her supportive presence, "He's right… I'm glad you're here. Are you going to stay for long? At least until the West Side Story performances are over. You'll be a better Anita than any of the other girls who auditioned."

Shrugging, Santana massaged her nape, "Thanks, but… I don't know, Blaine. I don't like… being away from her. I might commute between the hospital and here, but it's a pretty exhausting drive."

"Blaine and I wouldn't mind driving you," Kurt offered quietly, twining his fingers through Blaine's.

"That's really nice of you, Kurt." Santana twisted her lips into an appreciative smile, then checked over her shoulder at the stage, "Hey, Blaine, I think you're almost on. We can talk about this later. Maybe the three of us can get dinner after the show."

Kurt grinned, "We'd love to, Santana. That sounds delightful. I should go find my seat before all of them are taken… It's a full house tonight and all of them are here to watch you, Blaine." He lifted on his toes to kiss Blaine's cheek, then winked, "I'm so proud of you, Blaine." He looked at Santana again, acknowledging her for the first time since he started praising Blaine. "You'll both be marvelous!"

Before Kurt skipped off, he pressed one loving kiss to Blaine's lips and quickly embraced Santana again, then disappeared behind the curtain.

As soon as Kurt was gone from his view, Blaine stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced at the stage, clearing his throat and running through the number for his first scene. But, he tore his focus from that for a moment and flicked his eyes to Santana, who seemed just as uncomfortable. Both of them had a million things to say, and neither knew how to say them. "Have you heard?" Blaine whispered, assuming she would know what he meant.

And she did, her nose scrunching and lips pursing, and she lifted a pair of weary eyes to his face, "Not tonight, Blaine." She refused him, "If it helps you sleep at night, no, I haven't heard anything. But that's all I'm going to say. Tonight is about this performance and me seeing you and Kurt and…" she shook her head, "no, it's not about him."

Blaine pressed his lips together, then tore his gaze from her when a herd of Jets darted past him, clapping his back and hooting at him that he'd be great, that they were counting on him, that he'd steal the show. Blaine sighed and stepped into the flashing lights, the spotlight zooming in on him, "Something great is coming…"

* * *

Blaine returned backstage with fading applause on his heels and he smirked as Santana tugged him into her arms, "You were great, Blaine. Have you seen Kurt in the audience? You had him on the edge of his seat through the entire performance."

Chuckling under his breath so he didn't disturb Rachel, Tina and Mercedes, who were sashaying on stage to the beat of I Feel Pretty, Blaine looked over his shoulder at the rows of seats and instantly zeroed in on Kurt, "As if I took my eyes off of him for one second. Do you really think he looked happy with the performance? This play means so much to him and it's a lot of pressure knowing his mom—"

"Blaine, you sang it like the song was made for you," Santana looped her elbow around his arm and they both watched the three girls on stage, Tina and Mercedes cooing over Rachel as she skipped around and flung prop hats, scarves and shoes everywhere. "Oh, this is painful to watch."

Santana grimaced and turned her head, embarrassed for Rachel while she decorated herself in jewelry and wiggled to the music. Blaine kept his eyes glued to the stage, his brows furrowed as he noticed Rachel's shrill voice catching on the higher notes. She ignored it, still flaunting herself, but even Tina and Mercedes seemed to notice the scratchiness to her usually powerful voice.

Blaine slid his eyes to Kurt, a comically startled expression on his face, which clued Blaine in that he wasn't just imagining things.

Suddenly, Rachel attempted the highest and longest note in the entire song, as Blaine had seen Kurt sing yesterday like it was his second nature, but the higher Rachel went, the squeakier her voice got. She reached the peak and held onto the note as tight as she could until a noisy croak rumbled from her throat, and then she was making only a low hissing noise, her voice a strained wreck most likely because of hers and Blaine's ear-splitting fight of who could yell louder.

If Blaine was a good man, like Tony—a gentleman and a gentle man—he would have felt bad for Rachel. He would have offered her a cup of water, asked if she felt alright, walked her to her dads so they could take her home to rest, then called her later that night to make sure she was still okay. But Blaine wasn't a good man, wasn't a gentleman or a gentle man, hadn't even begun to forgive Rachel, and he let Rachel suffer with her own mistakes.

It was all she deserved after slapping Kurt.

He briefly tuned in to what Schuester was nervously rambling, "… any girls who want to play Maria?"

All of the girls either didn't know Maria's lines, or they were anxious about facing Blaine so intimately, so none of them spoke up. Blaine broke the silence, "Kurt."

Everyone was puzzled by the random mention of Kurt, not connecting him to the part of Maria in any way. Schuester dragged a hand through his hair and threw him a frustrated glare, "What, Blaine?"

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, his mind made up and his heels digging in, "I want Kurt to play Maria." Not one person looked the slightest bit swayed, making Blaine wonder if Kurt wasn't the obvious choice to them because they were intimidated by putting a boy in a girl's shoes, or if Kurt himself and all of his experience and talent threatened them. "I don't see why I have to convince you—is it not clear that he's absolutely gorgeous, a beautiful singer, and knows this play and nearly every line in it like the back of his hand? Besides, he's my boyfriend… We already have the right chemistry. If what's bothering you is his gender, then I can assume that putting down a boy who's willing to dress like a girl is more important to you than this play."

"Blaine, it doesn't bother me that Kurt dresses like a…" Schuester swallowed and played with his collar, unsure whether to use _girl_ or _transvestite._ Having never heard anyone refer to Kurt as the latter—as far as he knew—he stuck in safe territory that even Blaine was okay with touching, "girl. I'm not trying to offend Kurt… I have a lot of respect for him. What worries me is that… this is Ohio, Blaine, and if we put Kurt on stage wearing nothing but a slip dress and high heels, people might leave, or post bad reviews, or even insult him. I don't want _any _student getting disrespected over a school play. Maybe Kurt is okay with exposing himself in girl clothing on magazines that publish in France or New York, but I can't have him doing it here. I'm sorry, Blaine, I just can't take that risk."

Schuester started to turn away to hunt the new Maria down, but Blaine was relentless and completely determined to get his way, "Kurt's not weak," he said in a biting tone, "He's dealt with so much that none of you know about through these past few months, and he's still himself. He doesn't let it bother him, and he stays exactly who he is. Do you think that if people started to act out that I wouldn't protect him and take him off stage? Kurt wears girl's clothing and sings girlish songs because he's not afraid to take risks or be himself. If you don't encourage your students to do what they want—whether it's dress like a girl when they're obviously a boy, or fly all the way to New York on just a few hundred bucks and the dream of being on Broadway, or even go to a different continent and walk into Vogue with absolutely no name and try to become a celebrity—when will they ever take chances and get out of Lima and do things that seem impossible or terrifying?"

Schuester, shocked at Blaine's outburst, stopped and turned to gape at Blaine, who was everyone's focus of attention at that point. Mouths dropped and lips were pressed to ears as whispers were shared, but even under all of the eyes—which normally bugged the hell out of Blaine so that he dropped whatever it was and slipped back into his comfortable spot in the background—Blaine wouldn't crack. Schuester looked prepared to refuse again, putting his responsibilities as a protective teacher ahead of his desire for this play to go well, but in the end he came to terms with the fact that Kurt was the obvious choice—beautiful, desirable, a pretty countertenor voice, and the inevitable attraction between Kurt and Blaine.

Shaking his head, Schuester muttered, "You better know what you're talking about, Blaine. Of all my students, Kurt is the one I worry about most when it comes to criticism and slights. If this night ends in disaster or his feelings get hurt, I'm holding you responsible."

Blaine wasn't surprised by Schuester's bitterness, "It won't because everyone will be so impressed with him," he said calmly, "but I take full responsibility in doting on Kurt in case something does go wrong. Nothing about comforting him when he needs me frightens me."

Rachel made a bitter sound at the way he cooed over Kurt, and Blaine flicked his eyes in her direction. Santana immediately put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back from snapping in case something Rachel did provoked him to. Luckily, Rachel seemed too exhausted and disappointed to do much, but she still had a twisted expression as she gazed at Blaine, lips a thin line and eyes watery—either from losing Maria or losing him, he wasn't sure. Blaine, uncomfortable under her pitiful ogling, twisted around to face Finn, who glared at the back of his possibly former fiancée's head.

Trapped by his ex-girlfriend's obsession and his future step-brother-in-law's devastation, Blaine slid his hand into Santana's and squeezed, "Come on, let's go find Kurt."

He didn't want to hear Rachel's low sob as he walked away, proving that he was the reason for her selfish crying.

* * *

Blaine knelt by Kurt's feet and placed one hand on his thigh, the other holding out a fake, diamond ring. "Make of our hands one hand… Make of our hearts one heart…"

Kurt smiled down at the top of his boyfriend's head, dangling his hand in front of him as Blaine slid the ring onto his decorated finger from Blaine's other jewels—his gum wrapper ring and his promise ring. The ring glinted as light hit it, then it was covered by Blaine's warm mouth. He stroked his fingers through Blaine's hair, "Make of our vows one last vow…"

Blaine pulled away from Kurt's hand, and he lifted his hands to cup Kurt's cheeks, "Now we begin, now we start…"

Not ashamed of each other or their relationship—gay or not—the two of them nuzzled their lips together, and both smiled at the quiet clapping of hands at the lovely performance. The applause might have been louder, but they were too absorbed in each other to hear much besides the popping of lips, gasping of breaths, and beating of hearts.

Kurt laid his palm over Blaine's chest, his lips still on Blaine's as he musically purred, "One hand, one heart…"

* * *

"Mm…" Kurt tapped his chin, nose scrunched and lips puckered, "my favorite performance was definitely Blaine's rendition of Something's Coming."

Blaine's neck turned red with heat, and he helplessly smiled at the encouraging compliment, "Oh, Kurt, stop it." He turned around to intertwine his fingers with Kurt's, the latter curled up against the window of the car and flushed with happiness. "Honey, any song of yours was absolutely beautiful, but I especially loved One Hand, One Heart."

Santana, who had tagged along on their after-party to Breadstix, kicked the back of Blaine's seat, "You're such a pleaser," she laughed, "but I agree about Kurt's vocals. All of your songs were great. I Have a Love stopped the show, though."

Kurt blushed that time, a giggle slipping from his mouth, "Thank you both. You're so kind." He glanced at his brother, "And you, Finn? Do you have a favorite?"

Finn's jaw clenched, as if he hadn't been expecting the attention or didn't want it, "Um… yeah, what Santana said."

Blaine's brows furrowed at Finn's curt answer, while Santana and Kurt went on chattering about weekend plans and outfits, oblivious to the tension. Blaine was very aware of it, though, a constant victim of it himself, and he reached over to brush Finn's shoulder when his phone vibrated against his thigh. Kurt perked up while Santana lounged back, uninterested in the phone call.

Blaine fished his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the caller name, then held it to his ear. "Hello?"

Kurt scooted as far forward as he could and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck from behind, trying to listen in.

There was a crackling sound, then a very familiar, low voice that brought a smile to Blaine's lips. Seeing the smile playing on Blaine's face, Kurt relaxed and ducked so close that their cheeks were squished together. Blaine playfully tilted his head to kiss the corner of Kurt's mouth, then grinned as a cherry color bloomed on Kurt's cheeks.

"Blainey!" Cooper guffawed into the speaker, "I have a surprise for you!"


	51. Rose's Turn

Author's note: Salut! So, no Cooper in this one :( but I promise Cooper to be in the next one! There isn't much Klaine here and it's a lot of Burt/Kurt and Blaine/Santana, but my next chapter (Kurt's birthday) will have A LOT of Klaine. Also, just to warn everyone, Karofsky is coming back very soon and he's going to be worse than ever, but the school year's almost over and right now is Karofsky's do-or-die moment. Anyway, a couple of months ago I posted a poll about Blaine singing Smooth Criminal with Rachel, Santana or both girls and most of you voted Santana, but if you want to change that just go to my poll and vote! I have about three more chapters until that scene. As always, JMarieAllenPoe, your ideas are FABULOUS. To my Klaine-ing readers, KLAINE ON, beautiful people! :D

Klaine forever and ever 3: I'm looking forward to the surprise as much as you are! It's going to complete this story :D I do live in America and I actually live almost an hour away from Lima, which is really cool XD Okay, I won't give any spoilers but the movie was all kinds of wonderful! You will love it! As far as it releasing where you're at, I looked it up and I'm not sure how valid this source is but apparently the director said it will be everywhere, including Britain. I really hope you see it because I went through so many freaking emotions during that movie and I started crying about halfway through and Chris played his role so well! SBL = Beautiful

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: It's totally fine, somehow I managed to get through it (probably because of my beta XD) but thanks for your awesome review! (I just got through all of my exams which totally took time away from this :( so I completely understand!) :)

* * *

Kurt hummed to himself as he filled his mug with heated milk, then spun around and scooted a chair out at the kitchen table. Plopping into it, Kurt crossed his legs and held the mug to his lips. The steaming drink hit his mouth and a sigh slipped from him. He wiggled until he was comfortable in his chair, then set the milk down, gazing at the open door to the living room.

He heard Finn shuffling about in his bedroom, but other than that the house was quiet. Kurt thought about his boyfriend resting just upstairs, probably face down on the mattress and squeezing a pillow, as he had been when Kurt left him. He scooted the mug closer to himself and finished off the tasty drink, a few drops sticking to his upper lip. "Mm…" he licked his lips, savoring the sweetness clinging to them.

"You still drink warm milk?" Inquired a voice from a few feet away, and Kurt flicked his eyes over the rim of his mug to spot his dad in the doorway, his lips tight and eyes narrow. He looked tired, but restless. "You always wanted a glass of it every time something was on your mind. What's going on, kid? Anything I can help with?"

Kurt blinked at his dad, his body stiffening as Burt strode into the kitchen and pulled one of the chairs at the table out. He thought about making an excuse about being sleepy and just wanting to curl up in Blaine's arms, but Burt read him like the open book he was and sensed Kurt's nervousness. He ran a hand over his head and sighed heavily, "I messed up bad, Kurt."

Kurt put his fingertips to his rosy lips, and he shook his head, "_Non… Père—_"

"Don't argue with me about this." Burt groaned, and dropped his head into his palms, "You're so precious to me, Kurt, and I should have never…" He swallowed thickly, and smacked a fist to the table, causing Kurt to jump, "I don't know which is worse, that I distanced myself or that I hit you. Blaine warned me about this… I should have listened. You're only here for three more months and then I don't know when I'll see you again, hon. You're absolutely gorgeous, Kurt, just like your mom, and all the Broadway directors… they ate that up. I was lucky if I got one phone call a week. I don't want that to happen to us, Kurt; I want to keep you so close to me." Burt sobbed lowly into his hands, rubbing his face against the calloused skin, "Maybe that's why I distanced myself. I convinced myself you'd stay here for years, and I took you for granted."

Kurt's lips quivered as his own eyes swelled, and his hands trembled to touch Burt, to comfort him, but he kept to himself while his dad sucked wet breaths and muttered spiteful things to himself, "I'm scared that I lost you forever, though. You're so sensitive, Kurt, and you've never handled getting yelled at or punished well, which is why I let you have your way so often, and would take you on my knee and talk to you about my concerns instead of putting my finger in your face and raising my voice. And then… _hitting_ you now, when you're still the same way you were as a child. If you can never forgive me, Kurt, just do one favor for me—stay close to your brother and Blaine."

Burt glanced into the living room at Finn's bedroom door, and he said, "They're what's best for you right now. I don't know how well you knew Finn before mine and Carole's engagement, but he's a good brother to you. Protective of you. He wouldn't let anyone hurt you. He loves you, Kurt. And Blaine is…" he sighed, unable to think up any way to describe the impossible Blaine, "He loves you, too, and I know I doubted him when he hurt Finn, and his past… it terrifies me to think about what might have made him so…" Again, he had no words for Blaine, so he cut to the point, "The thing is, Kurt… you're very… gentle and you don't talk bad about anyone. You're not very worldly, either. I think if you have two experienced guys in your life, you'll be less vulnerable to being taken advantage of. Remember over your New York trip? How those thugs would have raped you had it not been for Blaine? Same goes for Broadway—probably the most competitive and demanding career anyone could ever go into. Kurt, you're going to be getting lead roles and more solos soon, and people are going to start to remember your name, and that's when they'll realize how nice you are, and they'll try to crush you. If you keep Blaine and Finn around and go to them when you need them, it won't happen as often, Kurt, and when it does, it'll hurt less because I see how they adore and dote on you."

Burt stopped talking, then, and he turned away to rub a sleeve over his flushed face. Kurt kept his shimmering, blue eyes on his dad, his pink lips parted and his face bright red. "Oh, _Père_…" Kurt breathed, batting his lashes to clear his blurry vision. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I have three of the best men in the world." Burt shot him a sharp look, eyebrows arched. "I don't hate you, Dad, and you won't lose me. I forgive you for… slapping me. I shouldn't have acted out but… I wanted those pictures so badly, Dad, because I only have a few things of _Maman_ and I-I appreciate everything of hers."

"So do I, kiddo," Burt slid his hand across the table and patted Kurt's, and was relieved when Kurt didn't even twitch, "I don't know what came over me… you know, when I saw her pictures. I guess… getting engaged to Carole made me want a new start, Kurt. I was confused because I love Carole, but no one can replace Elizabeth and I… needed time to figure things out. And, Kurt, I know I can _never_ take your mom out of our family no matter how many pictures I pack away in boxes. You are her son and you're just like her, Kurt. You remind me of her every day with your smile and your laugh. She was a little more stubborn and didn't mind stepping on people to get what she wanted, but… I can't replace you with Finn any more than I can replace Elizabeth with Carole. I love your mom, kid, and… you can have those pictures. They're in my closet. Put them where you want them, I don't mind."

"Thank you," Kurt whispered, a pretty smile tugging at his sweet lips, "Dad? Do you remember when Mom played Maria in West Side Story?"

"That was when she was just starting out," his dad said without hesitation, "Why do you ask?"

Kurt bit his bottom lip, "My school play was West Side Story. Blaine played a fantastic Tony, but… at first Rachel got the part of Maria. On opening night, though, she lost her voice so Blaine suggested that I play Maria… and I did."

"You got Maria?" A smile broke out on Burt's face.

"Uh huh," Kurt wiggled, happy to see he had his dad's full interest, "Santana told me at dinner that Blaine insisted I play Maria and wouldn't have it any other way." Sighing contently, Kurt put his chin on his palm, "It felt so great to play Maria, and with Blaine as my Tony! And not a single person minded that I'm a boy."

"Your mom would be proud, Kurt."

Kurt smiled bitter sweetly, then glanced up when he heard footsteps on the stairs. "Kurt, babe?" called Blaine's voice.

"In here, Blaine!" Kurt popped to his feet and rushed to the doorway, smiling as he met Blaine's golden eyed gaze through the dark of the living room.

Blaine sagged in relief and strode over to Kurt, collecting him against his chest, "I was so worried when I woke and didn't feel you in my arms."

Kurt glimpsed over his shoulder at his dad, "I'm fine, sleepy head." He cooed, running his fingers through Blaine's curls, a few tufts sticking up. "I was just talking to my dad."

"I didn't interrupt, did I?" Blaine looked at Kurt's small, teary face and wiped his sleeve over his pink cheeks, then pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"No," Burt stood and stretched his muscles one at a time, passing by the two of them and patting Blaine on the shoulder, "You should take him to bed, Blaine. It's getting late. Kurt…" he focused on his son, who was burrowed in Blaine's shirt, "I love you. I'll see you both in the morning."

"Goodnight, _Père._" Kurt murmured to his dad, "I love you."

Once his dad lumbered down the hallway to his bedroom, leaving Blaine and Kurt alone, Blaine stroked his fingers through Kurt's hair and kissed the crown of his head, "Are you okay, beautiful?"

"Yes," Kurt whispered, tilting his head and staring at the soft, stubbly spot under Blaine's jaw, "are you, my Blaine?"

Blaine wasn't the type to make a situation better or worse than what it was, so he stuck with the absolute truth, "I think I can be." Then he tugged Kurt impossibly closer and covered his mouth with a sweet kiss that made Kurt so weak in his powerful grip.

* * *

_"With this ring, I thee wed," Kurt flashed his pearly teeth at Blaine, his dimples popped and eyes bright and playful._

_Blaine knelt by Kurt's feet and placed one hand on his thigh, the other holding out a fake, diamond ring. "Make of our hands one hand… Make of our hearts one heart…"_

_Kurt smiled down at the top of his boyfriend's head, dangling his hand in front of him as Blaine slid the ring onto his decorated finger from Blaine's other jewels—his gum wrapper ring and his promise ring. The ring glinted as light hit it, then it was covered by Blaine's warm mouth. He stroked his fingers through Blaine's hair, "Make of our vows one last vow…"_

Blaine jolted from his sleep, his eyes snapping open and a gasp escaping him. On top of him, Kurt sighed at the movement and his fingers curled against Blaine's chest, his lips parting, but then he was still again. "Shit," Blaine whispered to no one, rubbing a hand over his damp forehead. This was at least the thousandth time that moment had played around in his head, repeating like a broken record, except one that never got annoying, one that sounded surprisingly pretty to the ear. He loved it, watching Kurt hold his delicate hand out for Blaine's taking, hearing the soft squeak he made as Blaine wiggled the ring onto his finger, and then listening to him murmur that with the fake, plastic ring he would wed Blaine. In that moment, it wasn't Maria sitting there. It was Kurt, and that both clenched Blaine's heart and whacked it pretty damn hard.

Was it wrong of him to have such a fantasy when he hadn't known Kurt for a year and they were so young? He didn't see much wrong with it. Then again, he'd been kicked out by his parents, raped twice, and been turned gay by his boyfriend. Blaine was the last person who should have been considering decency.

Still, he wanted to know if other boys ever looked at their girlfriends or boyfriends and saw a shimmer of white and blue, and then glanced down at the left or right hand and spotted a sparkle of light from a pretty, diamond ring. Obviously, they did or else the amount of proposing for marriage would be significantly less.

But this—what he felt for Kurt—wasn't normal! No man or woman ever wanted someone as badly as he wanted Kurt.

Shifting his weight, Blaine put his chin against his chest and ogled Kurt, who seemed peaceful in his arms, breathing softly, a smile flitting at his lips.

Blaine wondered if the problem was Kurt's birthday. He hadn't bought Kurt a gift yet, so maybe it was just the stress that he didn't have a clue of what to get Kurt! And especially his words hovering just behind him, practically biting him in the ass every time he went on Chanel's website and scrolled through their selection of scarves. Kurt wanted memories for himself, for them, and Blaine didn't know how to give that to him through a scarf.

That was most likely it, he decided. Blaine wasn't looking hard enough at things that meant that deeper feelings were involved than what a scarf had to offer, but not as drastic as a freaking engagement ring. Not that he would have minded proposing to Kurt. Right? But it was too soon. He didn't want to pressure Kurt with his leave to France so soon, and they had a baby coming and—well, he'd only known him for about seven months. But did he really need more time to decide how he felt about Kurt when he knew he was absolutely and undeniably in love with him?

"This is ridiculous," Blaine grumbled, gently taking Kurt in his hands and lifting his limp body, then laying him down against the pillows. Kurt murmured and curled into a tight ball, one hand finding Blaine's naked thigh and squeezing. Blaine couldn't help but smile, bending to kiss the side of his head as he writhed to avoid the inevitable hardening of his cock, "Even in your sleep, my little vixen." He slid Kurt's hand from his skin, kissing the knuckles and setting it on the mattress before he climbed off the bed.

He didn't bother with clothing and streaked through his bedroom naked, hips and waist sticky from their earlier goodnight kiss that had become so much more than Blaine first intended. Not that he was complaining. He picked up their laptop from the desk and returned to the bed, slipping back in beside Kurt.

Flipping the screen open, he typed in their password and waited a few seconds as the laptop loaded. He briefly looked down at his sweet, sleeping Kurt, and brushed a hair off his forehead. "So pretty…" he admired the soft features of Kurt's face, the pointy chin to the full cheeks, the plump lips, his round eyes. Blaine leaned down to kiss his cherry mouth and growled at the pleasuring sweetness.

Suddenly, his laptop quit loading, so Blaine flicked his eyes to the screen and opened the internet. He typed in what he needed to know, and of course there were other guys wondering the same thing, guys asking if a box of chocolates counted as the ultimate romantic gift. Blaine rolled his eyes, scrolling through his options and coming across nothing.

Kurt was too classy to settle for the cliché box of chocolates, even if the box was in the shape of a heart, and Blaine thought about flowers, but he doubted if there was a single vase in this entire house that wasn't overflowing with flowers for Kurt.

Devastated, Blaine scrubbed his palms over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was this so hard? He knew everything about Kurt—his likes and dislikes, his new fads, anything that would pinpoint the perfect present for him. Besides, trips to the mall always made Blaine's shopping easier, as Kurt loved to window shop and point at every single shirt, skirt or piece of jewelry he delighted in.

But this was so different than simply restocking Kurt's closet for two weeks before he exchanged the clothes for what was the new _in._

This was Kurt's birthday present, and he wanted a memory. And whatever Kurt wanted, Blaine would go to any length to get.

He needed help, advice, and knew just who to turn to, even if she was only as fashionable as Blaine.

Reaching across Kurt's slumbering body, Blaine pulled his phone from the dresser and flipped it open, typing in a number. He waited a few rings, then a sleepy voice muttered, "Blaine, it's two in the morning. What do you want?"

"Can you come over tomorrow?" Blaine whispered, keeping his voice low so he didn't disturb Kurt. He snapped his laptop shut and set it aside, then curled himself around the sleeping boy, fingers running through his dark blond hair.

Santana hesitated, needing an important reason to leave Brittany. "Sure," she said, "I'll be over around noon."

Blaine tossed his phone onto the dresser and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, closing his eyes and seeing the shimmer of white and blue, and a sparkle of light from a pretty, diamond ring again.

* * *

Blaine fished through his wallet for his credit card, and he pulled it out just as Kurt finished up primping his hair. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Kurt murmured, spinning away from his vanity and going to Blaine for a kiss. He smoothed the front of Blaine's button up before wrapping his arms around him, "Finn and I will have so much fun but you will be missed."

"Kurt?" Finn's voice hollered up the stairs, "You about ready? I'll get your coat for you. And, Blaine, I think Santana's here!"

Kurt looked at the door, "_Merci, _Finn. I'll be down in a minute. Could you grab my blue pea coat with the gold buttons, _s'il vous plaît?_"

"Blue coat, gold buttons… on it." Finn repeated, stomping back down the stairs. A moment later, the front door swung open and Finn muttered, "Hey, Santana. Blaine's upstairs."

Blaine sighed heavily and took Kurt in his arms, smoothing his hair and kissing his forehead, "Don't be away for long," he mumbled in Kurt's ear and nipped the lobe, "I'll miss you so much."

"I won't be more than a few hours," Kurt promised, kissing the tip of Blaine's nose, "I'll buy you a lovely scarf from Louis Vuitton while I'm away."

Both of them turned their heads when Santana walked up to the doorway and glanced around their room, from the vanity in the corner to the pictures on the walls, then at Blaine and Kurt. Blaine smiled at her, "Make yourself comfortable." He returned his attention to Kurt and handed him the credit card, then cupped his pink cheeks in his hands, "Have fun, baby. I love you."

Kurt's lips curved, and he reached to cover Blaine's hands with his, "I love you, too."

Blaine pulled him in for another kiss, his head tilting over Kurt's as he took his lips between his and sucked the sweet lip blush off of them. When he released Kurt, his boyfriend's lips were moist and plush, almost as red as an apple, and tugged to both of his ears. He looked really happy, which made Blaine's heart thump. Kurt flicked his eyes to Santana and waved, then focused on Blaine and leaned in for another soft kiss to his cheek, "Goodbye. It was nice seeing you, Santana. Maybe you'll stay for dinner and we can talk more tonight."

Santana grinned, "Yeah, I'd like that. Have a good time at the mall, Kurt."

Kurt hesitated to let go of Blaine, both of them bundled in each other, but then Finn called that he'd found the coat and a frown quivered at Kurt's mouth as he pulled away. "I love you," he said again, and Blaine whispered it back, just as shaken at the thought of not seeing Kurt for the next few hours. They were never apart, and especially with Karofsky constantly on their heels, it made it all the worse.

It took another moment as Kurt backed toward the door, unable to tear his eyes from Blaine's sorrowful face. Bumping into the wall, Kurt shook his head as if to clear it and glanced into the hallway, calling down to Finn, "Coming!" He looked back at Blaine, who resisted running up to him and enveloping him in his arms, then pivoted out of the room and raced down the stairs.

Blaine listened to Finn's grumbling for another few seconds, and then Kurt's high pitched voice. Kurt laughed at something Finn said, followed by the front door swinging open. Blaine's stomach squeezed uncomfortably as it slammed shut again, and he closed his eyes.

He'd almost forgotten about Santana until, from her spot at the windowsill, she said, "Blaine, you need to breathe." Apparently he'd forgotten about breathing, too, and he opened his mouth to suck in a breath. "Your hands are shaking and you're pale."

Blaine swallowed thickly and weakly lowered onto the end of his bed, scrubbing his hands over his face, "This is the longest time I've been without Kurt in a while. I'm just trying to convince myself that he'll be safe with Finn… but Finn has no idea what Karofsky's capable of—"

Santana understood, "Do you think I would ever leave Brittany if I didn't think she was constantly being watched?" She stood from the sill and walked over to the bed, then sat beside him. "Blaine, you need to relax. Finn would never let anything happen to Kurt. Now, what's going on with you? Is it something about Karofsky?"

"No," Blaine threw himself back on his mattress and stared at the ceiling through the gaps in his fingers, "I… I'm a terrible boyfriend and I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

She smirked and flopped beside him, their shoulders brushing, "Blaine, from the way Kurt was eye-fucking you a minute ago, you can't be that bad of a boyfriend. What's getting at you, though? Did you call him another name?"

"There's no other man for me, San," Blaine put his hands behind his head, and for a moment they could only hear each other's breathing, then Blaine whispered, "I don't know what to get Kurt for his birthday."

Santana stared at him as if she couldn't believe what he was saying, and suddenly a laugh burst from her lips, "_That's _what you're upset about? Blaine, Kurt is an open book! He was even easier to shop for than Brittany, and all she wanted for her birthday was a box of Lucky Charms."

"Santana, it's not…" he groaned and turned his head to the side so she couldn't see the frustration in his eyes, "It's not like that. Kurt would be happy with anything, I know, but… he also said he wanted memories… for us. I'm his boyfriend and I'm supposed to respect that and know what it means and… I can't just ignore him opening up to me and buy him a DVD of the first season of Jersey Shore."

"What are you saying, Blaine?" Santana snorted, and he started to realize that for as much as she loved Brittany, she was hardly a romantic at all, "That Kurt's implying that some birthday gift is supposed to show him all of your feelings for him?"

Blaine was losing his patience, "No… Kurt isn't like that. He wouldn't put that kind of pressure on me, and he's nothing like Kim Kardashian. But, San, this is Kurt's first birthday in Ohio since he was eight years old, and it means everything to him that it goes perfectly. It's… important to me, too… because I love him and want him to know that he's everything to me…"

"And you can't express that with Jersey Shore." Santana finished, sitting up and patting his chest. "Well… what do you think about jewelry? I saw a necklace with a music note that I considered—" When Blaine grimaced, Santana tossed her hands and rolled her eyes, "Blaine, you're not proposing to him! It's just a birthday gift, and I think a music note necklace is perfect for him—"

"He'll get a thousand of them by the time he's thirty," Blaine snapped, "Besides, Mercedes already asked me about a music note brooch." Growing more desperate for that one gift that would click with him from the start and he wouldn't stop until he had it in his hands, Blaine swung his legs off the bed and stood, pacing away from Santana. He stopped at a wall and pressed his forehead to it, fists clenched, "San, I-I'm the love of his life… I know him better than anyone. I know what he wants and likes and I've memorized every shirt and every pair of shoes that he's ever smiled at but…" Blowing out heavily, Blaine ran a hand over his hair, "I want him to keep me in mind when he goes back to Paris. I want to tattoo myself on him, so that every other guy will know he's mine. I want… I want to be what he needs, Santana…"

"You are what he needs," Santana grumbled, "Blaine, stop feeling sorry for yourself and turn around. Kurt loves you and a birthday present isn't going to change anything. Look me in the eye and tell me what you want to get him. You're avoiding it because you're scared."

Blaine turned on his heel and avoided Santana's face, his eyes darting to the floor, the ceiling, the window, anywhere but her face. He was so scared, his heart pounding and his hands trembling… but not for the need to claw. He'd been denying it because there were so many things that could go wrong, so many things that Kurt could say, so many—

But the words were spilling out of him because it was inevitable, the things that he felt and the dreams that he had and the way he wanted Kurt. "When I… look at Kurt, I see… white and blue, a-and… a ring."

* * *

Kurt perched in front of his laptop later that night, one hand tangled in Blaine's hair and the other tapping the keys. He looked down at the softness of Blaine's face in sleep, his lips parted and his lashes quivering. Kurt had never seen anything more beautiful than Blaine, not any jewel or Prada hat. Stroking one of Blaine's sideburns with his knuckles, Kurt bent to kiss his closed eyelids. Blaine twitched and mumbled what sounded like Kurt's name, and he rolled onto his other side to snuggle into Kurt's body.

Holding onto Blaine tight, Kurt flicked his eyes back to the screen. One word popped out at him, the place he'd been longing after ever since he got to Ohio. The memories of how beautiful and wonderful it was had become vaguer, and he couldn't remember what it smelled or sounded like. He would have expected something like that to startle or upset him, but it didn't and he didn't know why.

He returned his eyes to Blaine and smoothed a lock of hair drooping over his forehead. Blaine seemed so content resting against him, like he never wanted to move. And Kurt didn't want him to move, either, not when Blaine's heavy body draped over his and his hot breath on Kurt's chest made him feel so safe and close to the man who would give and do anything for Kurt. Kurt had always wanted a love like that, to feel protected and adored, but had thought it was only fantasy… until he met Blaine.

Kurt glanced at the screen again, to the bold-printed date that he would return to the place where he belonged… if only he didn't feel like he did when he first stepped off the plane to France when he was eight years old, going into a place where he didn't feel accepted or he thought he might be unhappy. He closed his eyes, thinking about why he might have wanted so badly after France only a few months ago. It had excellent Broadway shows, beautiful fashions, and he'd started a career there with a company he admired.

But America had a gorgeous, kind man.

And the man outdid all of it, the flashy shows and the shoes.

Kurt swiftly reached to shut his laptop and push it aside so he could throw himself into Blaine's arms, forget about everything he'd be leaving behind in France. Blaine sacrificed so much for him, gave up everything to be with Kurt, and Kurt thought he could return the favor and stay here with Blaine until he felt ready to be with him in France. He could settle down for a few years, raise the baby and think about his future with Blaine—

But he'd made so many commitments. He'd promised Vogue he'd come back in a year, and although he wasn't expected for any Broadway plays soon, people wanted to see him accept the life that he'd chosen, as not only a dedicated fashion designer, model and singer, but a celebrity. No one knew how difficult a life like that was, especially with recently starting a relationship and having a baby on the way. He had so many people who needed him, and he had to either choose the ones his heart knew were perfect for him, or the ones always at the back of his mind, ones like Ryder Lynn who craved his fashion designs, or like the woman at the W New York Times Square, who had told him what an inspiration he was.

He scrolled down to the bottom of the page and stared at it for a moment, his hand trembling as he hovered the cursor above the button that would make or break his future. One click and he'd leave Blaine, the baby, his brother, his dad. But if he closed the laptop he'd be disappointing everyone, and he'd lose everything he'd worked for at Vogue, and he would never be the one in the spotlight on the Broadway stage.

Blaine wouldn't want that for him, and neither did he.

Kurt ignored the tear rolling down his cheek as he pressed down on the button, and almost immediately the page he'd been looking over vanished and a confirmation code for the airport popped up.

It was done now and he was going to lose Blaine.

His stomach twisted and his heart clenched, and a low moan shattered the serene silence in their bedroom. Tears spilled from his eyes too quickly for him to blink them away. He'd never felt this way before, dizzy and weak and hurt, not since he lost his mom.

"_Blaine,_" he whimpered, turning away from the laptop and taking Blaine's shoulders in his palms, pulling him so tightly to his body that there was no space between them. "Blaine, I did a terrible thing."

Blaine opened his eyes, blinking away his sleepy daze, and he clutched Kurt close to him as Kurt rubbed his damp cheeks against his neck. "Honey, what is it?" He whispered, stroking Kurt, then his eyes flicked toward the laptop. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Kurt felt a drop of wetness on his forehead, then Blaine tilted his head to kiss the tear. "Don't cry," he finally whispered in Kurt's ear, his voice breaking as another tear dripped onto Kurt's face, "You're going to be happy in France, and we'll always be together, sweetheart. I promise."

"I'm never saying goodbye to you." Kurt's words were broken by sniffles and whimpers, and then Blaine took Kurt's mouth in a loving kiss so passionate and intimate as if it would be their last, and Kurt moaned and tossed his head back to expose his delectable throat to Blaine, which Blaine quickly pressed his lips to and licked, "Don't let me go… _ever._"


	52. Marry You

Author's note: Hi, readers! Here's Kurt's birthday chapter! This was so much fun to write :) Hope you all enjoy it just as much! For those of you wondering, Kurt's birthday in this story is the same as Kurt's on the show... which is the same as Chris's. So, it's May right now, and the school year is almost over and I'm so excited for my upcoming chapters (where all the drama with Karofsky and Kurt leaving and the babies, etc. will happen.) Also, the name Everett is obviously Darren's middle name, for those of you wondering where I got that name. So... that's pretty much all I can say about this chapter/upcoming chapters. I love everyone reading this! Thank you, JMarieAllenPoe, for having perfect ideas. This chapter is dedicated to anyone who has ever fan-girl/boy-ed over Klaine. A link to a picture of Kurt's engagement ring is on my profile.

* * *

Kurt's blond lashes fluttered. His rosy lips parted. His pale fingers quivered on Blaine's brown skin. Curling his toes and arching his shoulders, Kurt sighed and opened his eyes, nearly blinded by a bright, summer sun glaring through his window. He squeaked and burrowed into a warm chest. Blaine's body rumbled with a low laugh, and he ran his fingers through Kurt's messy hair, "Happy birthday, my little sweetheart."

Kurt lifted his cheek from Blaine's collarbone and he put his chin on his hard chest, blue eyes peeking up at Blaine's amused expression. His nose scrunched when he sniffed something sweet with a hint of a spice, maybe cinnamon. He glanced to his right and spotted plates of cinnamon muffins, cheesecake, and two medium drips. His mouth watered and his stomach gurgled. "Oh, Blaine!" he chirped, perking up then hissing when the blankets fell off his back and a cool breeze flirted with his skin. Blaine gathered the blankets around the two of them again, the smile on his face growing wider. "You didn't do this all for me, did you?"

"No," Blaine snorted, reaching for the plates and dragging them closer, "because one of those muffins is mine."

Kurt was still touched, "How sweet of you." Before he reached for the tasty cheesecake, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to Blaine's, an even tastier treat than the slice of cake. "Remind me to tell you more often that you are the best boyfriend ever. I feel so spoiled. You weren't up early to make this, were you?"

"Kurt, stop worrying and dig in." Blaine slid the plate of cheesecake toward Kurt, "You've been eyeing this."

"Mm…" Kurt scooped a bite into his mouth, then collected another and held it to Blaine's lips, "you must share it with me. It's so delicious, Blaine. You're an amazing cook!"

Blaine lapped his tongue along the fork, then started to scoot out from under Kurt. Kurt distracted himself from his wonderful breakfast long enough to look alarmed at Blaine. Blaine soothed him with a kiss, "I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to run you a bath."

Kurt stroked Blaine's face, "Breakfast-in-bed and a bath? Blaine, if you do any more I'll feel so guilty."

A wicked smirk curved Blaine's lips, "Would getting in with you and massaging every inch of your skin with my tongue make you feel anything but good, honey?"

Kurt shivered and blinked, but he was speechless.

Satisfied, Blaine turned away and put a hand on his hip, striding out of the room. A moment later, Kurt heard the water spraying into the bathtub. He swallowed the cheesecake on his tongue and looked at his food, wondering if he hurriedly devoured everything he might get into Blaine's arms any faster.

But when Blaine was in one of these moods, Kurt knew he'd take his time to torture him so Kurt picked up one of the muffins and nibbled at the top, savoring every flavor bursting on his tongue.

At last, Blaine strode back into the room and stopped at the end of the bed. And suddenly Kurt couldn't remember that he even had a muffin in his hand because Blaine was absolutely nude, not a strip of cloth covering his powerful body. Kurt choked on the bite he'd been chewing and stared at Blaine, unable to help himself from glancing between his muscular thighs to his engorged cock. A blush bloomed on his skin, from his toes to his hairline, almost as if he was the naked one.

Blaine, not self-conscious at all, glanced down at his stiff cock and cupped it in his hand, lazily stroking the tip. Pre-cum dribbled onto the tip of his finger, and he smeared it onto the dark, veiny shaft. "Kurt, where is our strawberry flavored lube?"

Kurt's skin absolutely flamed and his hands began shaking. Blaine knew where the lube was! Was he trying to provoke Kurt? Not looking away from Blaine, Kurt twisted and pulled at the handle of the drawer of their nightstand, and he picked through their lubes until his trembling fingers closed around the bottle. He held it out to Blaine and Blaine bent to take it from Kurt. His face was just centimeters from Kurt's and Kurt could see the darkness in Blaine's eyes, the faint flush to his cheeks. His neck was straining, jaw clenched.

Blaine stood upright again, his fingers twisting the cap until it popped off. He squirted a small amount onto his finger, then put it to his lips. He stared at Kurt as he slid the finger into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing when he sucked the lube onto his tongue. The finger popped out and he licked his lips, noisily moaning.

Kurt twitched, a sound slipping from his throat.

"Your muffins are getting cold, Kurt," Blaine reminded him like it was casual conversation, coming closer to the bed and setting the bottle just lower than Kurt's tiny feet.

Kurt nipped the top off his muffin and chewed, his mouth numb to any of the deliciousness he'd delighted in before Blaine came in. He watched Blaine squirt a generous pool of lube onto two of his fingers, and to Kurt's surprise Blaine put his hand behind his back. His other hand squeezed his bulging sac, but Kurt was blind to anything but the way Blaine's hips popped as he pushed his ass onto his fingers. Kurt moved his head to see those two fingers disappear inside his puckered hole, and Blaine spun when he realized what Kurt wanted.

His ass cheeks were peeled apart and his slicked up fingers were scissoring inside of himself, sliding deeper and deeper into that tight heat. "_Oh,_" Kurt whimpered, as if he was the one being pleasured.

Blaine grunted and moved until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he bent over to push himself closer to his prostate. Whimpering, Blaine swiveled his hips and fucked himself on his fingers.

They slid back out of his hole, then Blaine slammed them in, hips jerking and fingers curling. Blaine brushed his prostate and a whine escaped him, "_Kurt._"

"Oh, Blaine!" Kurt squeaked, writhing and needing to be touched by Blaine's seductive mouth and hands.

Blaine popped his fingers out and spun around, pouncing on Kurt. He flung his arms around Kurt and sloppily kissed his lips, tongues dancing between their mouths. His erection bumped Kurt's with every grind of his hips.

Moving down Kurt's body, Blaine pressed kisses over Kurt's jaw, neck, and chest. He paused at Kurt's stomach, lips lingering over his belly button, hot breaths blowing from his mouth. Sticking his tongue out, Blaine licked the tiny hole, then clenched his buttocks in his hands.

He bundled Kurt in his arms and threw his legs off the bed, more or less stomping out of the room and into the bathroom with Kurt wrapped around him. Slamming the door behind himself, Blaine set Kurt on his feet and gently stripped his nightshirt from his pale, porcelain body. His mouth watered at the sight of his precious skin, all of it bared and needing to be kissed and admired.

Blaine took Kurt against his chest and he guided his lover toward the bath, stepping into the steaming water first then lifting Kurt in. He set Kurt down so he straddled his hips, and Kurt didn't even take a minute to appreciate the hot water splashing his skin before his lips covered Blaine's.

Their tongues twisted and sighs were exhaled into each other's mouths. Kurt's hands found Blaine's face and one of his arms, squeezing the taut, soaked and dripping wet muscles, and both of Blaine's hands covered Kurt's butt.

Kurt left Blaine's mouth and at first Blaine grumbled until Kurt stuck his tongue out on Blaine's neck and licked to the middle of his chest. "You taste so salty," he moaned, his lips drifting to Blaine's trimmed pubes. He rubbed his bottom lip across his abdomen, then took Blaine's head in his small mouth.

He pressed a kiss to the tip, his lips popping as he moved to the side of Blaine's cock and licked a large, protruding vein. Returning to the tip, Kurt took it between his lips and bobbed his head, sinking until Blaine's tip jabbed the back of his throat.

Suddenly, Kurt popped off his cock and he lifted his head to kiss Blaine's mouth again. Blaine tasted the strawberry and salty pre-cum on his tongue, and it was so sexy.

Kurt placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders and boosted himself up, then in one quick move plopped onto his cock. A small shriek pierced the quiet of the room, and Blaine snarled and nipped Kurt's bottom lip, tugging. "Oh, Blaine," Kurt whispered, pointing his nose at the ceiling.

Blaine pressed his lips to the hollow of his neck and suckled a dark hickey onto his pale skin.

Kurt's blue eyes popped open and he looked at Blaine, gazing into the gold of Blaine's beautiful eyes, "You are the best boyfriend ever."

* * *

Blaine tightened his arm around Kurt's waist and lifted him off the last stair, setting him on the soft carpets of the living room. Finn, who was sitting on the couch and stroking Pavarotti, immediately scrambled to his feet and rushed over to Kurt. He enveloped Kurt in a tight embrace, slipping a present into his hands. "Happy nineteenth, Kurt," he grinned.

"Oh, _merci,_" Kurt followed Finn to the couch and perched in the middle, giving both Finn and Blaine room to squish him from either side.

Blaine crossed his ankles and laid his arm across the back of the couch, his hand finding Kurt's shoulder as Kurt patted his lap and urged Pavarotti to hop onto him. The little bird scampered across Finn's thighs and curled up against Kurt's stomach.

"Are you having a good birthday, Kurt?" Carole asked, an unsure smile flicking at her lips.

Kurt smiled and snuggled into Blaine's side, "It's lovely, Carole. Thank you. I couldn't ask for anything better than spending it with my family. And all of my friends are celebrating during glee club on Monday!"

Finn patted Kurt's knee, "Why don't you open your presents? I don't know about anyone else, but I spent a long time finding the perfect gift for you. I even went to Blaine for help."

Considering the box Finn had handed him, Kurt stroked his fingers over the silver bow. He plucked it off and set it aside, giggling when Pavarotti stretched his neck and nipped it, dragging it closer to himself. Kurt pulled at the wrapping paper and pushed it away, revealing a black felt box with the Louis Vuitton label on top.

Kurt popped the box open and a locket necklace spilled into his hands. A gasp slipped from his throat as he ran his fingers over the silver chain. "Oh, Finn…" he whispered, cupping the heart locket with a _K_ engraved in it, "it's so beautiful. Thank you." He glanced at his boyfriend and stroked his sideburn, "And thank _you_ for helping."

"There's no picture in it yet," Finn cleared his throat, his skin flushed as Kurt admired his gift, "I thought that… you know… you could take a picture of something you like and keep whatever you want to remember about America with you when you go back to France."

"Finn," Kurt leaned into Finn and wrapped his arms around his neck, "it's a wonderful gift. I will think of you every day because of it."

Blaine pulled Kurt against his thighs and he took the necklace, laying it on Kurt's shoulders. He clasped it and the heart dropped to Kurt's collarbones, a cool weight on his sensitive skin. Rubbing Kurt's shoulders, Blaine muttered, "You're so pretty."

Kurt touched the necklace, more than pleased with the way it shimmered and glowed against his pale skin.

"Looks nice, Kurt," Burt approved and nudged Carole, who instantly leaned over the arm of her chair and grabbed a thin, wide square. Blaine stood and walked across the room to take the heavy gift from her, then returned to Kurt and scooted so close that there was no space between them. He kept the gift on his lap so it didn't crush Kurt. "Kurt, honey… this is something Carole and I put together. Take it with you when you go to France. You'll need it."

Kurt and Blaine started peeling at the corners of the wrapping paper. Blaine tore it away and crumpled it up, then tossed it to Pavarotti who chased after it with his beak and dropped it on top of his bow.

Blaine returned his attention to the gift and furrowed his brows at a picture frame decorated in photos of a blue eyed boy, most of them of when Kurt was very young, but quite a few of Kurt as a teenager. The first was of a gorgeous, blue eyed woman in a hospital bed, clutching a bundle of pink blanket and soft baby to her chest. The next was of Burt, also clinging to a tiny baby who was gazing up at him with dancing eyes, a wrinkled nose and a toothless smile.

Blaine flicked his eyes to one of Kurt—probably five or six—proudly posing in a showgirl costume. He skipped over to a little Kurt standing by his mom, both with glittery microphones at their lips as they belted out a song.

The next one caused Blaine hesitation, a sore ache in his heart, as he looked at a picture of a young Kurt kneeling by his mom's grave with a rose twined between his fingers. Blaine lifted his eyes from the picture and glanced at Kurt's lovely face, his lips curved and cheeks flushed as he made over one of the pictures.

Blaine followed his eyes to the middle of the frame, where some of the more recent pictures were. One was of Finn and Kurt after Regionals, and another of Kurt showing off Pavarotti, who had been dressed up in a tiny, feather boa scarf. But the one Kurt seemed most fond of was the picture right in the center of the frame, one of him and Blaine. Blaine was smiling and turned slightly away from the camera, eyes on Kurt's waist, while Kurt cupped Blaine's cheek in his hand and pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth.

"Oh…" Kurt's weak voice brought him back to himself, away from all of those memories, and he glanced up at Kurt's teary, flushed face. Blaine moved to pull him into his arms, and Kurt clung to his chest, a weepy smile tugging at his lips. "Dad, Carole, this is… so magnificent. You all have given me such a perfect birthday."

"Hey, don't cry," Finn wrapped an arm around Kurt and squeezed him, "you deserve every bit of it. You're an amazing person, Kurt, and we all love you so much. You're the greatest brother I could have ever asked for. Who else would have told me that blue is a good color for my room?"

Kurt laughed, his eyes shining, "You would be lost without me."

Finn released his brother and glanced at Blaine, who was unaware of anything but Kurt as he ran his fingers through his hair, eyes glazed with adoration, "Blaine, why don't you give Kurt your present and then we can dig into that chocolate fountain and the strawberry cake?"

Kurt's eyes flew open wide, "Chocolate fountain? Oh, how yummy!"

Blaine massaged the nape of his neck, needing some way to tell Kurt that he couldn't have his gift, not yet. Blaine did have it, but he wasn't ready. He couldn't do it now, not after all the planning he and Santana had put into it. "Sweetheart, I—"

Before he had a chance to mumble through any kind of excuse and disappoint Kurt, though, someone knocked obnoxiously loudly on the door. Finn's brows scooted together and he got up, "Maybe that's Santana," he assumed. "Blaine, she said she was coming over today, right?"

Blaine didn't answer and wrapped his arms around Kurt, who was peeking around Blaine to see who it might be.

Finn opened the door and narrowed his eyes at the visitors, but barely had a chance to get a look at them before the dark headed man mauled him down. Throwing his arms apart, Cooper shouted, "Blainey!"

A smile broke out on Blaine's face, and he untangled himself from Kurt to rush over to his brother. The two men almost tackled each other. After getting all of their back slapping and shoulder clapping out of the way, Blaine pulled away from Coop and looked at his family, "Burt, Carole, Finn, this is my brother, Cooper."

"It's so great to finally meet the family that's been taking care of my little brother," Cooper cooed, playfully pinching one of Blaine's cheeks. Blaine swatted his hand away. He looked around the room and finally zeroed in on Kurt, then his arms flew open again, nearly whacking Blaine in the chest, "Hey, there's the birthday boy!"

"_Salut,_ Cooper!" Kurt squeaked and jumped from his seat after placing Pavarotti and his bow aside. Cooper snatched Kurt up and lifted him off his feet.

"How's your birthday, Kurt?" Coop set him back down but kept his arms in his hands, "I smell a delicious cake somewhere."

"Oh, Blaine made all of the food and it's excellent!" Kurt thrilled in saying, "I was just finishing opening my presents and then we'll slice the cake. You must have a piece."

"Sounds good," Coop let go of Kurt, who instantly huddled into Blaine. He returned to the door, which Finn had disappeared out of. "Honey, I told you I'd get the luggage later! Come on inside." He turned and rolled his eyes at Blaine, "Alicia's always outdoing herself. She won't ever rest."

"Alicia?" Blaine looked concerned and strode up to the door, then walked outside.

Kurt didn't know whether to watch Blaine or offer Cooper a drink and tell him to make himself at home. When he figured that he couldn't do much as far as Blaine was concerned, Kurt glanced at Cooper and tugged him toward the couches, "Please, sit down. Have you come here just for my birthday? I appreciate you traveling all this way to visit us."

Cooper lowered onto one of the couch cushions and Kurt perched beside of him, "Of course I wanted to celebrate your birthday, Kurt… but I also thought that with Alicia being due so soon that it'd be easier to keep her here. The meetings and paparazzi got to be too much for her, and it's quieter out here. I talked to Blaine and he said that it'd be best, but… would it be alright with you and your family, or I am I asking too much?"

Kurt opened his mouth to reply, but Carole was quicker, "Of course, sweetie. Any family of Blaine's is family of ours. We have an extra room upstairs… a few doors down from Blaine and Kurt. When did you say Alicia's due date was?"

Finn returned with a bunch of suitcases tucked under his arms, and a moment later Blaine stepped through the door and helped a panting Alicia inside, one hand squeezing Blaine's arm and the other on her bloated stomach.

Carole's question had obviously been answered, but Cooper still muttered, "Next month."

"I feel like it could be any minute, though," Alicia grumbled, plopping beside of Kurt when Blaine guided her over to the couch.

"Do you need something, Alicia?" Blaine asked, brows pushed together, "A drink?"

"No thanks, Blaine." Alicia covered her forehead with her hand, "I just need a second to collect myself. No pregnant woman should ever be stuffed up in a limo for that long."

Blaine picked Kurt up and took his spot between Alicia and Cooper, then pulled him onto his lap. Pavarotti, who must have jumped from the couch and ran to hide between Finn's legs when Kurt left him alone, poked his beak out from behind Finn's shoe. He wiggled when he saw Kurt on the couch and waddled over to Kurt's feet, bow still in his beak.

"Hey!" Coop pointed at Kurt's bird when he bent to scoop the chirper up, "I remember you, little guy! I'm glad you guys still have him."

Pavarotti pawed at Kurt and dropped the bow into his palm, then nipped at his feathers to groom himself.

Blaine twitched an uncertain smile onto his lips, "Kurt would never give Pavarotti away." When Kurt gave him a startled look, Blaine soothed him, "Neither would I. But… why?"

Cooper stroked Pavarotti's back, interrupting his cleaning. Pavarotti's head popped up and he twittered at Cooper. "Alicia and I were thinking about your birthday present, Kurt, and I wanted to get you a limo." He glimpsed at his fiancée, who nodded eagerly, "But Alicia remembered how enthusiastic you were about getting another bird so we're going to take you to this nice pet shop in town and—"

Kurt's hand flew to his lips, his dimples popping and the corners of his eyes wrinkling, "Another bird? This is fantastic!" He brought his tiny bird to his face and kissed his forehead, much to Pavarotti's surprise as he chirped noisily and flapped his wings. "Pavarotti, you'll get to choose a friend!"

Pavarotti chirped and spun in a circle, happily showing off under the attention.

Blaine smirked at Kurt's eagerness and smoothed his hair, "Kurt, would you like me to drive you over there now?"

Kurt flicked his eyes to Blaine and the smile wavered, "But your gift… I'd like to open it first. Any present from you is so special to me, Blaine."

Leaning in for a kiss, Blaine quieted Kurt's fretfulness, relieved that he'd practically been handed the perfect excuse to delay his gift, "Well, then, make it worth waiting for."

* * *

Blaine put his hands in his pockets and walked about a foot behind Alicia and Kurt, the latter chattering to Pavarotti about how his new friend had to be kind to him and he couldn't just pick him or her for looks, and he or she should preferably enjoy Broadway music. Alicia kept her hand on Kurt's arm, staggering to not lose her balance. Cooper strode beside of Blaine, his eyes on his fiancée just as Blaine looked out for Kurt.

Cooper suddenly chuckled to himself and shook his head, and Blaine glanced at him, "You know what's funny? I think Kurt's gotten more beautiful than the last time I saw him, and that seemed pretty impossible."

Blaine's face screwed up, "What?"

Smiling at Blaine, Coop patted his shoulder, "I dunno. He just seems happy. He can barely keep his eyes off you. You know, I'm really proud of you, Blaine."

Blaine still didn't understand what Cooper was getting at, "Why?"

"You've become a man," Cooper muttered, arching his brows at Blaine, "Don't get defensive, Blaine. I'm complimenting you. Kurt's so delicate—his feelings… everything about him…" Coop made a gesture with his hand that clued Blaine in that he was referring to their sex life, "In the beginning I really thought you were going to break his heart. Not a year ago you were acting out, bullying people, hanging around that _kid…_ I can't even remember his name now. You weren't happy, Blaine. Now you… are. You smile and laugh and you're so close to that family and… and Kurt… him especially. You kiss him and you don't care what anyone thinks. And it's a relief to me because I tried helping you… getting you away from what was hurting you… but nothing made a difference. You wouldn't let me in. But you did with Kurt and… you're better now."

Blaine stared at his brother, his face emotionless, his eyes flickering as if he was calculating something. When he heard Kurt squeal, though, he turned to watch Kurt cuddle a white rabbit to his chest. An employee was right behind Kurt, pointing at the rabbits and mumbling what sounded like uninteresting facts about them, but Kurt barely noticed as he cooed over the fluffy bunny.

After a moment, Blaine's eyes shot back to his brother, and he took a breath, "Coop… there's something I need to tell you about Karofsky. The boy I hung out with."

Kurt giggled as he handed the rabbit to Alicia and waved the two men over, "Blaine, come here!"

Cooper shook Blaine's shoulder, "Later." He pasted a smile onto his face for Kurt and hollered at the guy still blabbing on about something Blaine didn't care about, "Hey! Where do you keep your canaries?"

The guy was so captivated by Kurt that he didn't hear.

Aggravated, Blaine brushed past his brother and went to stand behind Kurt, who had a brown rabbit in his arms. Blaine slid his thumb through one of Kurt's belt loops and flicked his eyes to the guy, making sure he saw that Blaine had made his claim.

Coop must have sensed Blaine's jealousy because he instantly put himself between the employee and his brother, "Oh, I see the canaries now." Cooper squinted between two of the aisles, then took the rabbit from Alicia's arms and plopped her in her cage. "Kurt, whatever canary you like, it's on me."

"This is Pavarotti's choice," Kurt gave the rabbit to Blaine to return to his cage, then snuggled Pavarotti against his chin, "Pavarotti, would you like to pick your new friend now?"

Pavarotti chirped and bobbed, fluffing his feathers to spruce himself up.

Blaine linked their fingers and led Kurt through one of the aisles. At the back of the store there were many cages of birds, but Blaine instantly found the canaries and nudged Kurt up to them. Inside the cage there were only a smattering of them, most yellow, some brown, and a tiny white one with a black spot over his right eye curled up in one of the bird nests.

"Oh, they're so sweet," Kurt grinned at one nipping his feathers, and another bowed over the food bowl, then to his own bird who was eyeing the other canaries with interest, "Pavarotti, do you see any you like?"

Pavarotti was still examining his choices.

One of the birds inside the cage noticed the bird outside, and he climbed across the branch to get close to Pavarotti. Kurt brought him near the wire so their beaks almost touched. Suddenly the bird inside snapped at Pavarotti. Kurt quickly drew Pavarotti to his chest and Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, prepared to pull him away from the cage in case another bird lashed out.

"Pavarotti, are you okay?" Kurt squished his cheek against Pavarotti's, the small bird trembling.

Alicia touched Kurt's back, hoping he wasn't discouraged, "Kurt, maybe it'd be best if someone reached in to see how the birds react to touch before letting Pavarotti near them."

Blaine reached for the door of the cage and unhooked the latch. He slowly stuck his hand in and avoided the one who tried to chomp on Pavarotti, going for a small, yellow one bobbing his head at Blaine's hand. The bird quickly hopped onto Blaine's knuckles, and Blaine drew him out.

"He's harmless," Coop pointed out.

Brushing his fingertips against Kurt's, Blaine kept his hand ready to pull away as the bird waddled up to a nervous Pavarotti, then stepped right past him and started climbing Kurt's sleeve. "He has no interest in Pavarotti," Kurt sighed, disappointed. Kurt scooped the bird up and stroked the top of his head, "I'm sorry, little bird, but I don't think I can take you home."

Blaine took the bird back and set him on his branch, then focused on the one chowing on his lunch. He reached to cup the bird in his palm, but the bird was more interested in his food and darted around the food bowl, clinging to the edge. Blaine shook his head and sighed, "Kurt… sweetheart… I'll take you to another pet shop. I'll get you a bird. None of these birds have caught Pavarotti's eye, though."

Alicia pointed at the tiny one in the bird nest, "What about him? He's been looking at Pavarotti."

Blaine doubted Alicia, but Kurt was gripping the back of Blaine's shirt in anxious wanting for his baby to not feel dejected. He slid his fingers underneath the bird and he hardly twitched, his pointy claws curling and uncurling on Blaine's skin as he softly chirped.

Blaine lifted the bird out of the cage and put him close to Kurt's hand, and although there wasn't much of a reaction out of the white bird, Pavarotti fluffed himself up and twittered noisily at him. He skittered onto Blaine's hand and snuggled into the bird's side. The bird made a quiet cheeping sound, but other than that kept to himself.

Kurt smiled as Pavarotti burrowed into the tiny bird's feathers and nipped them, preening his choice. "Pavarotti, have you made your decision?"

Pavarotti twittered at Kurt and closed his eyes, a low humming rumbling from his throat.

Cooper laughed heartily, "I think he's a happy bird."

Blaine smoothed his fingers over Pavarotti's new friend, "He has blue eyes…" he whispered, looking at Kurt, "They're pretty, just like yours."

Kurt flushed at the compliment, then murmured, "Blaine, could you hold them while I look at the clothes? I must find matching outfits for the two of them. Alicia, would you come with me? I always love sisterly advice with fashion."

Kurt and Alicia looped their arms together and Kurt spilled the two birds into Blaine's palms, leaving Blaine and Coop alone as they went to find the aisle for bird goods.

"So…" Coop wiggled his finger in front of the resting birds, but both were too busy with each other to notice Coop, "what are you going to name the little guy? I was thinking something that references Transformers. Megatron. You like it? Yeah, you do."

Blaine wasn't amused, "I'm not naming a bird Megatron. Besides, it's up to Kurt."

"Ah, but if you _could_ name him," Cooper pointed out, "Optimus Prime, right? Would… Would you choose Optimus Prime?"

"No," Blaine smiled at his persistent brother, "I like the name Everett."

"Everett?"

Blaine's smile quivered, "Coop… have you ever heard of the gay hate crime that happened in Paris a few years ago? A boy was murdered for kissing his boyfriend. There was another boy with them when it happened, and he's never forgotten about it."

Cooper placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder, "The one where they never found the murderer?"

Blaine hesitated as if he was calculating again, but he didn't answer that, "His name was Everett."

Cooper didn't reply because Kurt bounced up to them with miniature, coffee brown scarves, and he squealed, "Blaine, look. Aren't these pretty? They'll flatter both of their colors perfectly."

While Kurt got busy bundling his tiny birds up in piles of scarf, Alicia arched her brows, "Did I hear something about a name? Blaine, what did you want to call him?"

Blaine shook his head, "No… I want Kurt to name him—"

Kurt agreed with Alicia, "Oh, Blaine, please name him! You were so kind with letting me name Pavarotti. It'd make me so happy if you named him."

"Yeah, Blainey, don't be modest." Cooper encouraged.

Blaine swallowed and rubbed his knuckles over his stubbly jaw, "Everett." He muttered slowly.

The smile on Kurt's face wavered. An unhealed sadness flickered in his eyes as he remembered that night, then he looked at the tiny bird in Blaine's palms and a weary smile flitted on his lips. "I like that name," he whispered, moving to cup Everett in his palms. The little bird chirped at him and his tail feathers wiggled. "Welcome home, Everett."

* * *

"I am _stuffed._" Coop groaned from the couch, and he dropped his plate onto the coffee table. "Blaine, why are you such a good cook? I gained five pounds from that cake."

Kurt giggled at Coop's show of rubbing his sore stomach, "You had three slices. You cannot blame Blaine for your indulging."

His birds, who he had been playing with before he chided Coop, chattered at him and pawed at his hand.

Kurt returned his attention to them and tossed their jingly ball at them, and Pavarotti pounced on it.

Much to Everett's surprise, the doorbell suddenly pierced the quiet of the living room. The tiny bird, unadjusted to living in a house, puffed up like a marshmallow and darted over to Pavarotti. "Oh, little one, you don't have to be frightened. We just have a visitor." Kurt kissed the side of Everett's head to comfort him.

Finn stood and stretched, then walked over to the door. "Hey, Santana," he said after he opened it, "come on in. Want a piece of cake?"

Santana shook her head and glanced around the living room, pausing on Kurt, "Happy birthday, Kurt. Sorry I couldn't make it earlier. Brittany had another surgery this morning."

Finn took her jacket from her, "Is she alright?"

She didn't seem to want to talk much about it because all she gave Finn was a nod. She pulled a small box from her pocket and stepped past Pavarotti, who was circling her legs and chirping at her. Handing it to Kurt and nodding when he quietly thanked her, she noticed the white bird by his thigh and smiled at him, "You got another bird?"

"Mm hm," Kurt said proudly, "His name is Everett. Isn't he handsome?"

Before she had a chance to reply, Blaine strode out of the kitchen, "San, do you want to talk upstairs?"

Santana turned away from Kurt, and Finn replaced her by plopping where she had been standing. He took the ball from Kurt and rolled it toward Everett, and the tiny bird nipped it and nosed it toward Pavarotti.

"Is everything okay, Blaine?" Kurt tilted his head at Blaine.

Blaine ran a hand through his disheveled hair, as if he'd been tugging it, and he nodded at Kurt, "Everything's fine, sweetheart. Don't worry." He tugged on Santana's wrist and the two of them headed for the stairs.

"What's going on with Blaine?" Burt muttered, "He acts different every time that girl comes over. Really distant… and he looks like he always has a headache."

"There's no use in asking him. He won't answer." Finn shrugged, then rubbed Kurt's back, "I'm sure it's alright, though."

"What did Santana get you?" Carole distracted Kurt from his worry over Blaine and she leaned forward for a better view of the box.

Kurt finally looked away from the stairs and back to the present, and he set it down when he noticed his birds sniffing and pecking at it. Pavarotti instantly tore the bow off and started shredding the paper, while Everett cautiously waddled up to the bow and poked his beak at it.

When Pavarotti finished and scurried to Everett with a few scraps of paper in his beak, Kurt pulled the top of the box off and gasped at the charm bracelet within. He unfastened it from the box and lifted it in front of his nose, awestruck by the tiny charms swinging off the silver chain. He ran his fingertips over a fragile, glittery microphone, then the bedazzled crown next to it. A little bird was fastened on beside of the crown. Kurt's favorites, however, were the two letters _K_ and _B _dangling right next to each other.

"This is the loveliest bracelet I've ever seen," Kurt showed it off to Finn, and Finn unlatched it then wrapped it around Kurt's wrist. He shortened the hook so it didn't fall off.

"It's pretty on you," Finn twisted the bracelet so most of the charms were on the top of his wrist.

Kurt smiled at his brother and wrapped his arms around his neck, "Thank you, Finn."

"Let's see it, Kurt," Burt motioned for him to come near, and Kurt popped to his feet and swished over to his dad and Carole. Burt sat him down on the arm of his chair and took his wrist in his hand, turning it this way and that so each charm glittered under the light.

"That's absolutely beautiful, Kurt," Carole approved.

Kurt was squirming with happiness, "I've had the best birthday ever."

Everyone tore their eyes from the flattering charms when Santana and Blaine returned, Santana with her hand on Blaine's back and Blaine looking bedraggled, stressed, even nervous, which was a rare emotion for Blaine.

Kurt chirped at Santana, "The bracelet is so pretty, Santana. I couldn't be happier with it. Blaine, don't you like it?" He held up his wrist to give Blaine a better view.

Blaine sluggishly turned to Kurt, his face scrunched as he weakly nodded his head. His eyes slid up and down Kurt's body, hesitating at Kurt's hips, then at his wrist, and finally up to his face. Then his skin turned visibly green.

"Blainey," Cooper started to stand, "are you feeling alright?"

"He's fine," Santana batted down their concerns, and she pushed Blaine toward the door, "Blaine, the box is in my car. I'll drive him down there in about an hour."

"You're leaving?" Kurt asked quietly, displeasure threaded through his tone. "Blaine, stay."

Blaine held his hand out for Kurt, and Kurt left his dad's side and hesitantly approached the woozy man. Sliding his fingers through Kurt's, Blaine pulled him close and buried his face in his hair, "We won't be apart very long. Give me a kiss."

Kurt touched his mouth to Blaine's, reluctant to let him go when Blaine reached for his keys. Blaine patted his bottom, "Santana's going to drive you to the school soon. I'll be there."

"The school?" Kurt pursed his lips.

Blaine bent for another kiss and twisted the doorknob, "I love you." He shot Santana a warning glance that wasn't quite as threatening when his skin was still tinted green, "Be careful with him. He's my heart."

* * *

Santana stopped in front of the doors of the school and put her car in park, "I just got a text from Blaine and he said that he's ready," she murmured to Kurt, who was gazing at the school in wonder and anticipation. "Are you feeling alright?"

Kurt looked at her and nodded, "Oh, yes… I'm fine. Just… nervous. Surprises aren't like Blaine at all."

Santana smiled, "I know he says he's not good at romance, but I think he has it in him deep down." She pointed at the doors again, "Once you walk in, you'll know what to do."

Kurt unstrapped himself and reached for the door handle, "Thank you for driving me, Santana, and… thank you for the lovely present, also."

Santana pulled Kurt in for a tight hug, "It's no big deal, Kurt. I hope you had a nice birthday. Call me tomorrow and tell me how things go with Blaine."

"I promise." Grinning, Kurt popped his door open and slid out, then shut it behind himself and took a deep breath.

Santana was still parked behind him and probably would be until she saw that he was safely inside, so he had no time to himself to fix his hair and pinch his cheeks… or think about what Blaine might say to him.

Smoothing the front of his shirt and running his fingers through his hair as best he could, Kurt opened the door and stepped inside. The school was chilly so he hugged his sweater to himself, "Blaine?" he called, inching forward and noticing a shadow on the floor.

He looked down and was startled to find a rose by his foot. It was pretty, a soft yellow like the kind he'd given to Blaine on his birthday. Bending to pick it up, Kurt brought it to his nose and breathed in the sweet aroma.

He got to his feet again and stepped forward, this time carefully, and after a few feet he came across another rose, this one red. Once again, he picked the rose up and started walking, but the hallway ended and branched off in two directions. He glanced down either way and smiled when he spotted a yellow rose to the right.

Hurrying to add it to his collection, Kurt sniffed the three roses and was overwhelmed by a perfumy scent. He watched the floor for other flowers, and found two more in that hallway. The hallway split into two ways and he flicked his eyes to the right and left, and he spied one last flower by the English door.

He rushed over to it and put it with the rest of his boutique, then looked at the door. Hearing quiet rustling within, Kurt put his hand on the knob and twisted it, parting the door and peeking inside.

In the middle of the room was Blaine, unaware of Kurt watching him, pacing from wall to wall, running his fingers through his hair and mumbling something under his breath that Kurt couldn't hear. Kurt must have made a sound because suddenly Blaine whipped around to face him, and the anxiousness on his face was replaced by absolute enthrallment. "_Kurt._" He whispered as if he'd never said the name before.

Blaine paced over to Kurt and wrapped an arm around his bottom, one hand clamping Kurt's nape, and he swept him off his feet. "Oh, my sweet beauty," he mumbled into Kurt's hair, pressing kisses anywhere he saw skin. He even brushed one of Kurt's sleeves away so he could kiss his shoulder.

Kurt flushed when Blaine traced an intricate pattern of veins on Kurt's neck with the tip of his tongue, and he stroked Blaine's ruffled hair, "Have you missed me, my love?"

Blaine boosted Kurt up on his chest and stumbled over to the desks. He set Kurt on one then lowered to his knees in front of him, burying his face in Kurt's thighs, "I'm always longing for you." Purring as Kurt stroked his fingers through his hair, Blaine muttered, "I've been going crazy, Kurt. I've never felt… this way."

Kurt put his fingertips underneath Blaine's chin, lifting his head, "How?"

Blaine cupped the side of Kurt's face in his palm, "I've never seen anyone more beautiful than you, Kurt."

Kurt's blond lashes fluttered and his lips parted. Blaine slid his fingers across his soft face and pressed his thumb against his bottom lip, and Kurt licked the tip. "Every guy fantasizes about… finding… someone like you. Someone to hold, to wake up next to, a-and fall in love with. I never thought I would. I thought that… I was a complete mess and no one would ever want someone who lived such a disastrous life. But you came to me and… you saw past how ugly I'd made myself and my life." Blaine glanced around Kurt to the desks in the corner, "We met right there, Kurt. I treated you like you were a nobody because I was afraid… scared that if I didn't I would stare at you and forget the person I wanted to be and tell you that I thought you were so pretty, Kurt."

Again, Kurt didn't say anything, so Blaine sighed and continued, "I don't regret leaving my past. I fell in love with you and you're everything now and… somehow you love me. You're so sweet, Kurt, and you don't mind what I've done or who I was or that I… that I haven't been just yours, willingly or by force." Taking Kurt's trembling hand in his, Blaine lifted it to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. "Kurt, Santana told me that I shouldn't think that I don't deserve you… but I know I don't. You are so perfect, Kurt. But you love me, anyway, and I don't want what we have together to end."

Blaine reached in his back pocket and pulled out a tiny box, and a surprised gasp escaped Kurt's parted lips. He immediately put the box behind him, "Kurt, tell me if I'm being too forward. I don't want to ruin this."

Kurt said absolutely nothing, his lips quivering and eyes huge. His skin was a shade too pale.

He didn't know whether he'd stunned Kurt so that he was speechless, or if Kurt wanted him to continue. He went with the latter and showed Kurt the box again, and Kurt closed his eyes, a single tear flirting with his lashes.

Blaine took Kurt's hand again, and he whispered unsurely, "Kurt… you are the love of my life." He clumsily opened the box when Kurt looked down at him, another tear spilling from his eye, "Marry me?"

Kurt's face turned bright red, and to Blaine's relief a smile quivered at his pink lips. His shimmering eyes filled with tears, "_Yes._"

Blaine thought he hadn't heard him right, "You want me to be your husband?"

A laugh gurgled out of Kurt, "Blaine, _yes!_"

Kurt hopped from his perch on the desk and the next thing Blaine knew his back was on the floor and a pair of the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen were staring into his. Blaine quickly pulled the ring from the box and took Kurt's hand, and he slipped it onto his ring finger. "You're mine, Kurt."

Kurt looked at his hand and diamonds sparkled beautifully against his skin. The full pavé ring glittered boldly with every curl of his finger, the millions of cut diamonds as pale as his skin. It was thin and fit his finger perfectly. He was very proud to wear such a gorgeous ring that made it very clear that he was devoted to Blaine.

His eyes flickered to Blaine's happy face, his lips curved in a lopsided smile, his nose scrunched, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. Sighing, Kurt wriggled closer to him and took his cheeks in his hands, his lips pressing to Blaine's. Blaine opened his mouth and sucked Kurt's bottom lip. He rolled Kurt over, putting his arm under his head as a pillow.

Kurt poked his tongue at Blaine's and Blaine suckled it into his mouth, then moved his lips away and pressed them to Kurt's chin. He made his way down the slope of Kurt's neck until he reached clothing, and he laid his cheek against Kurt's collarbone to regain his breath.

Kurt suddenly felt a warm tear drip onto his skin, and Blaine pressed a kiss to the cooling wetness, "Kurt, I'm so happy."

Kurt tugged his fiancé back up and pressed their lips.

* * *

Blaine laid his arms on either side of Kurt's head, his hot breath blowing on Kurt's sweet lips. He slid in and out of Kurt, hips moving at a slow pace. He savored every pretty smile Kurt gave him, each cry as Blaine brushed his bundle of nerves.

Sucking Kurt's bottom lip, Blaine twisted his tongue around Kurt's and pushed his cock in deeper. Kurt moaned weakly and his eyes closed, a peaceful but crumpled look on his face. Blaine swiveled his hips and brushed his fingers over Kurt's pink nipple, "Mine."

"Yours," Kurt agreed softly, pushing up to meet Blaine's thrusts.

Blaine slid his fingers through Kurt's, the hard diamonds of Kurt's ring scratching his skin. He kissed Kurt's ring finger, "My beautiful fiancé…"


	53. Being Alive

Author's note: This is a mean chapter and a HUGE mood swing from my last one. I didn't even like writing it but it was kind of necessary :/ This may seem like the climax of this story but it's not, I promise. The adventures will go on for about another year and a half, and then I'm writing a sequel :D Soo... Karofsky's probably going to appear just one more time in THIS story, but his time here is just about done and I'm happy about that because I don't like him. For a little update on me, I decided to stop watching Glee last Thursday. I lasted for about twenty minutes of the episode but I thought that it was extremely disrespectful to the characters/actors and actresses playing the characters/and to the fans. If you have something from the show you want me to add, you can review or PM me but I don't want to know anything about Sam, Tina or Adam because I only ship Blaine and Kurt. Sorry if I sound bitter to anyone, I just wrote an entire chapter about Karofsky and RIB just destroyed Glee so I hope you guys understand :/ Anyway, about this chapter, it's a lot of description and I'm REALLY bad at writing detail, so this is all I have and it sounded pretty bad when I was reading it over. Thanks to my beta and readers for being so awesome and maybe sticking with me after this horrible chapter? :P

prosen8966: I'm really glad you liked the engagement scene! I was worried it was too soon :P For the most part I think Kurt's family is in denial of what's going on but I also think it's like the saying "boys will be boys" when it comes to Blaine getting bruised up all the time. At least Blaine is trying to get them to understand :) Thanks for the awesome review! I love hearing people's opinions on my story :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I'm not that good at fluff so it makes my day that you thought it was cute :) I kept reading it over and I was so picky with the mushy things Blaine said :P Annnd I used one of your songs in this one! I couldn't use all of the lyrics because Blaine interrupted Kurt's shower singing :( so I picked out the lyrics that seemed to match this chapter/my story best.

NicJ: Thanks! I really appreciate your review :) It made me smile! Just a creepy little moment for me... when I got your review I went on your profile and read your story. I LOVED IT. Are you still continuing it? Whenever Blaine's dad showed up I was yelling at my computer like "NO BLAINE RUN AWAY" and every time Kurt showed up I'd be like "THERE'S YOUR ANGEL BLAINE GO KISS HIM". Okay, I'm done and probably just weirded you out :P

Forever and ever: Aww I appreciate the support!

Klaine forever and ever 3: I love getting your reviews. I have no words for the feelings they give me. Actually... yes I do. They give me the feeling I get when I read Klaine fluff.

* * *

"And all the other boys try to chase me," Kurt tilted his head into the warm water spraying from the nozzle, and he sighed as droplets chased each other down his nape, "but here's my number, so call me, maybe?"

He soaped his chest and stomach and spun to face the water, "Before you came into my life I missed you so bad. I missed you so, so bad."

Jumping when the bathroom door opened, Kurt almost dropped the slippery cake in his hand and put his cheek against the shower curtain. He heard the sound of a zipper, then clothes rustling, and throat clearing. "Blaine?" he chirped, pushing the curtain aside just enough to poke his nose out.

Blaine was standing in front of the mirror, buttoning a flannel over a white undershirt. "Yeah, honey?" He glanced at Kurt as he smoothed his collar, and a slow smile curved his lips, "Look at you. So pretty."

Kurt flushed at the compliment and hid behind the curtain, "Are you leaving?"

"Only for a couple of hours," Blaine yanked the curtain away so he could look at Kurt, who was turned around and had his arms above his head as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair. Blaine's eyes flicked to his round, pink bottom, and he patted it. "Finn wants me to drive him over to an acting school near Westerville. I don't know… something about brotherly support?"

"Finn's auditioning to be an actor?" Kurt looked over his shoulder at Blaine, "Oh, tell him I said good luck!"

"We'll probably stop for lunch," Blaine walked over to his shoes, and he slipped his feet into them. "Want me to bring you anything, babe?"

"A salad sounds good." Kurt said. "Thank you for asking."

Blaine finished lacing his shoes and stood upright again, "I'll be home soon. Will you be alright while I'm gone? Coop and Alicia are at the hospital for an ultrasound but Burt and Carole are downstairs, and you can call me for anything."

"Oh, yes," Kurt smiled, "I'll give myself a pedicure and watch musicals while you're away. I have our sweet birds to talk to, anyway. They won't let me be lonely."

Wrapping Kurt in his arms, Blaine rubbed their noses then kissed the tip of Kurt's, "I'll miss you, little angel. Kiss me."

Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck and pressed his lips to Blaine's. Blaine opened his mouth and sucked Kurt's bottom lip, his tongue poking Kurt's. They parted with sighs and whimpers, and Blaine tapped Kurt's butt again. "I love you."

Kurt was reluctant to let him go, "I love you, too, Blaine."

He closed his eyes when Blaine pressed his lips to his forehead, and then his touch was gone. Kurt ached for his fiancé the very moment he heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. Carefully stepping out of the shower, Kurt slid one of Blaine's old tee-shirts over his body, then slipped into a pair of spankies.

He rushed into his bedroom and pressed his nose to his window. A moment later the garage door opened and car lights spilled onto the driveway, and his Navigator rolled onto the pavement. As Blaine checked his phone for something, Finn banged his head to a song Kurt couldn't hear. Blaine looked up and his eyes wrinkled and his nose scrunched as he laughed at Finn.

To Kurt's surprise, after Blaine shifted the car out of park, he suddenly glanced up at their window. He was so embarrassed that he'd been caught spying that he ducked. After a second he poked his nose above the sill and was startled to see that the car was still there.

Finn was texting someone, but Blaine's eyes hadn't left the window. Blaine quirked a smile at his fiancé and pressed his fingers to his lips, then blew Kurt a kiss. Kurt flushed. Wiggling his fingers in a goodbye wave to Blaine, Kurt whispered, "I miss you already."

Blaine seemed to understand and mouthed that he loved Kurt, then turned to Finn and muttered something to him as he pulled out into the road. The car drove off, leaving only waving grass and blowing dust behind.

Kurt stayed at the window long after Blaine and Finn left, kneeling on the soft carpets and laying his arms on the sill. He put his chin on his folded hands and glanced at his sparkling ring, which glowed under the shining sun. "Blaine…" he whimpered, wrapping an arm around himself as if that would be any substitute for Blaine's protective hold.

Startled by a light nip to his toe, Kurt looked over his shoulder at his tiny, yellow bird, and smiled, "_Salut,_ little one. Come here." He scooted Pavarotti onto his finger and perched him on the sill, then noticed another bird scampering across the carpets. "Hello to you, too." Holding his hand out for the shy Everett, Kurt cooed at the quivering bird who unsurely climbed onto his fingers.

He placed Everett beside of Pavarotti and cradled his cheek on his hands again, his eyes on his birds. "You two never have to be apart," Kurt sighed, stroking their fuzzy wings, "I can't imagine how wonderful that must feel, never worrying that you'll have to miss the greatest love of your life until your heart hurts."

When his birds curled into each other and closed their eyes, Kurt looked back at the window and pressed his finger to it, doodling an invisible heart. He drew a _B_ and _l _in the middle of it, but stopped on _a_ when he noticed a black truck turning into his driveway.

He didn't recognize the truck from the car shop, and he didn't think it belonged to any of his dad's former employees because he'd never seen it before, so he wondered if his dad was having any friends over to watch a football game.

Before he had a chance to see the visitor, his phone vibrated with a text message. Kurt instantly popped to his feet, "Maybe that's Blaine!"

He hurried to his bed and flopped onto it, picking up his phone and opening the text. He confused the _m_ for a _w_ for a moment, but got it after his third try, "I love you so much."

Smiling at the sweet message, Kurt tapped his chin as he thought of a flirty reply. Blaine's message went unanswered, though, when his noisily chirping birds hopped off the windowsill and skittered across the carpets then disappeared under the bed. "Pavarotti, Everett, what's the matter, my little birds?"

Kurt scooted to the edge of his bed and peeked under it, spying the silhouettes of boxes, his chest, and two pairs of glowing eyes. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he promised them, growing dizzy from being upside down and righting himself.

His blue eyes immediately met brown ones deeply sunken into a face that was smashed to his window. Kurt was so shocked that he forgot how to scream.

The bashed and bruised man gripped the window frame tighter with one hand, and clumsily lifted his other and banged it against the glass. The noisy clang caused Kurt to jump, his hand flying to his mouth. "No," he whispered to himself, as if it wouldn't actually be happening if he denied it, "no, please."

The man grunted and lost his footing, but quickly caught himself and smacked the glass so hard that even the floor trembled. Kurt gasped and curled into himself, his entire body shivering as tears pooled in his eyes. "Dad—" he tried calling, but his voice was weak and the sound of glass shattering smothered his small cry.

Seeing his entrance, the gruesome man struggled inside, his stomach and back scraping the sharp glass as he pulled himself in. "Dad!" Kurt tried again, "Dad, please, come help me!"

The man heaved himself to his feet and towered over Kurt's tiny form, a gnarled smile on his lips at the sight of Kurt's defenselessness. He'd been waiting to get Kurt alone for far too long. He stalked up to the bed and stood at the end of it, and Kurt pressed himself against the wall at the top of the bed.

Suddenly, the man lunged at Kurt, and Kurt did scream that time, pushing at the man's chest as he was covered with his massive, filthy body. "No! No!" Kurt squealed, tears pouring from his eyes. "Please! Karofsky, _no__!_"

Karofsky snatched Kurt's wrist in his hand, and he took one look at Kurt's ring. His smile twisted into a bitter frown, "Poor Blaine," was all he said as he ripped the ring from Kurt's finger and chucked it at a wall.

Kurt cried out and writhed against Karofsky, but he was too strong and held Kurt down easily. Suddenly, Karofsky lifted one meaty hand and lessened the weight on Kurt's chest. Kurt screamed when he saw Karofsky whack Pavarotti, who had come to Kurt's defense and was biting his attacker, from the skin of his arm. Pavarotti flew about a foot and smacked the carpet, and didn't twitch again. "_Pavarotti!_" Kurt shrieked, clawing Karofsky's arm.

His wailing was muffled when Karofsky drew a bag from his pocket and peeled it open, then tossed Kurt inside. Desperately squirming to get out, Kurt looked up and watched Karofsky tie off the top of the bag. "No—!" Cut off by a hand smacking his stomach, Kurt kicked at the bottom of the bag and poked his fingers through the hole at the top, but nothing was helping.

He inhaled to get a breath inside the hot, suffocating bag, though the moment he gulped it, Karofsky threw the bag over his shoulder and knocked Kurt breathless. "Karofsky…" he pleaded, putting his face near the hole for sips of air.

Growing dizzy as Karofsky climbed from the window and jostled the bag, Kurt put a hand on his damp forehead and laid his cheek on the rough material. It was scratchy and made his skin itch, but he felt so weak and needed to close his eyes… he couldn't breathe… he couldn't even think.

Seconds before he blacked out, he remembered that he had never replied to Blaine that he loved him, too. Tears dripped from his eyes at the indescribably heartbreaking thought that he might never tell Blaine he loved him again.

* * *

Blaine clicked his unanswered call off and checked his phone, anxious for any text or call from Kurt. Flicking his eyes to the stairs, Blaine smiled at a chattering Finn who was busy telling Burt how great he did at the audition. He slipped past his excited friend, walking to the stairs. Finn quickly stopped him, though, "Blaine, Blaine, tell him what the guy said!" Finn blurted it out himself, "He said he'll get back to me!"

Burt bobbed his head, "Didn't expect anything less, bud." He glanced at Blaine, "Blaine, there's a football game coming on in a bit. Why don't you hang out down here with me and Finn? I want to know about _your _college choices."

Shaking his head, Blaine nodded in the direction of his bedroom, "I should take Kurt's salad up to him. Thanks for the offer, though."

"Suit yourself," Burt shrugged, leaning back in his chair and motioning for Finn to join him, "Your mom will be home soon but I'm all ears now. What dialogue did you audition with?"

Finn went on to give Burt every detail, but Blaine was more interested in who was upstairs. Stepping off the last stair, Blaine approached his bedroom, "Kurt, honey?" He pushed the door further open and was surprised when he didn't see Kurt curled up and napping, as Blaine had been expecting, considering every one of his calls and texts had gone unanswered. He checked the dark bathroom across the hall, but Kurt wasn't there, either. "Kurt?" he called a little louder.

He turned around and looked down the empty hallway, then rushed over to the stairs, "Burt, where is Kurt?"

Burt took a moment to reply, "Isn't he in your bedroom? He hasn't come downstairs."

Blaine whipped away and hurried to the other end of the hall, opening the door to Alicia and Coop's room. "Kurt?" he almost yelled, his palms on fire. He needed to claw, he needed to, he needed… "Kurt!"

Blaine ran back into his room and scanned the interior, and after a closer look his eyes came to a screeching halt on the bed. Kurt's phone was abandoned there, Blaine's text still glowing and ignored on the screen, but what really got him going was the blood splattered on the pillows. "No…" he stumbled out of his room, covering his face with his hand, "No. Kurt!"

He walked back into the room and something crunched under his foot. Stumbling off of it, Blaine looked down at a pile of shattered glass painted with blood. "Baby, come out!" Blaine shouted at no one, his vision blurring with tears, "I need you!"

Staggering, Blaine helplessly pierced his palms and dug a layer of skin off, warm pools of blood instantly dripping onto his fingers as he peeled off more. "_Kurt!_"

"Blaine, what are you yelling about?" said a voice from the doorway.

Blaine caved to his knees, rubbing his forehead against the floor. Suddenly, a high pitched chirp echoed through the screaming in his head, and he lifted his eyes to a tiny, white bird pawing at a motionless Pavarotti. "No…" he whispered, dragging himself over to them and scooping Pavarotti's limp body into his palm. "Pavarotti… don't…" He stroked his bird's chest and felt Everett hop onto his arm, waddling over to his friend and nudging him.

He touched Pavarotti's chest again, feeling for a heartbeat, and to his relief he found a very fragile, quick pulse quivering to keep Pavarotti hanging on. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Blaine pressed his lips to Pavarotti's head, "You'll be alright. I won't let anything happen to you ever again."

Blaine laid Pavarotti down and Everett went with him, curling up against him. Staring at the tiny birds, Blaine growled when someone patted his shoulder, "Blaine, calm down and tell us what's going on—"

Blaine pushed the hand away and clenched his fists, his jaw jutting and lips curling. "Don't touch me."

Burt recoiled immediately, "What did you just say to me?"

Whipping around, Blaine tore to his feet and shoved past Burt, "I trusted you!" he screamed, stomping to the doorway, "I told you that I was dealing with a fucking psychotic masochist! He has Kurt now! You were supposed to keep him safe!" He rushed down the stairs with Burt on his heels, and he pushed a stunned Finn aside, "Did you not care when you heard him screaming? Or when that glass shattered?"

He pushed through the kitchen doors and yanked open one of the counter drawers, nearly sending it spilling to the floor. Pulling a butcher knife out, Blaine ignored Finn's protest and snarled at Burt as he passed him, "Get Pavarotti help while I'm gone. If he is harmed or they say there's nothing they can do for him—"

Burt interrupted him, "Blaine, put the butcher knife down. You're acting like you're about to kill someone. I'll call the police but you're not going anywhere."

Blaine snarled, "I am going to kill him."

He strode out of the kitchen and ripped the front door open, sprinting to his car. Throwing himself inside, Blaine twisted the key and didn't get much farther than that before the passenger door opened and Finn sat down. Blaine made a horrible sound, "Get out."

"No," Finn shook his head, wary as he watched the knife in Blaine's lap, "he's my brother. I want to come. Just drive."

Blaine wanted to throw Finn out of the car, keep his friend away from Karofsky, but he didn't have much time to waste to reason with Finn and he figured that Finn wouldn't be totally useless in a fight. Stomping on the gas, Blaine spun the wheel and was halfway down the road by the time Finn got his seatbelt strapped on.

Finn finally looked at the road and turned pale as he saw how fast the houses were flying by, his eyes constantly flicking to the rising speedometer, but he didn't say a word.

Taking another curve and coming up on a much slower car, Blaine quickly pulled into the other lane and listened to Finn pant nervously, then he glided back into the correct lane. "H-Hey, Blaine?" Finn cracked after so long of keeping his silence, "You weren't serious about killing Karofsky, right?"

Blaine didn't answer. He needed to concentrate on getting Kurt back, and he thought that the butcher knife spoke for itself.

Finn seemed to understand because he didn't ask again.

Blaine's intent was obvious.

* * *

When Kurt awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he felt cold. He trembled from his head to his toes, twisting this way and that to find warmth. Bed springs coiled under his squirming body and the squeaking of metal chains startled him into holding still. He opened his eyes but there was no difference, a black wall blinding him. He blinked to adjust his vision to the darkness, noticing the thinnest rays of light piercing the tight knots in the itchy fabric.

Kurt laid his hands on the bag, feeling his way around. Finally, when he reached above him, one of his fingers slipped through the tiniest hole. He looked up at it and caught a peek of a wall—maybe the ceiling—and two strings twisted together outside of the bag. Poking another finger through the hole, Kurt tugged at the strings and they quickly unraveled.

Wriggling, Kurt pulled the hole open and he shimmied out of the stifling bag, landing on a flattened, yellowing pillow. He scrambled off of it and to the center of a bed. Flicking his eyes around the room, Kurt spotted the door and he leapt off the bed, rushing over to his way out and jiggling the door knob to no feat.

Realizing that Karofsky had him locked in, Kurt turned and spied a small, rectangular window, so he walked over to it. He could barely see out of it because of the dust and dirt caked on it, but if he wiggled and made himself as tiny as possible he could slip through. He pushed on the window, ignoring the cobwebs and grime brushing his fingertips, but it wasn't budging.

Leaving the clamped up window, Kurt thought about crying out for help, but the only person who would hear him was the person who Kurt needed to avoid. He returned to the door and pulled at it, then noticed a small hole in the knob for a key.

Considering that Karofsky might have a spare, Kurt quietly scooted over to the dresser. He got to his knees and checked the top, finding car keys, an unwashed shirt, and scissors. Sighing, Kurt opened the first drawer and promptly shut it when he saw a stack of muscle men magazines. He moved to the next and found a laptop, so he turned his attention to the bottom drawers.

One was overflowing with tee-shirts, pants and socks so Kurt closed it without interest. He finally got to the last drawer and pulled the handles. On the very top was a key, but below that was a bag of pills, different colors mixed together, and none of them labeled. Beside of the pills was a pile of small, square packets, and underneath those was a long, finger-shaped object with blood dried on the tip and a switch on the end. Wound up in a tight coil was what Kurt thought looked like a whip, the leather also dyed with dark red blood.

Frightened by the strange objects he'd never seen before and what they might do, Kurt took the key and pushed the drawer shut, not wanting to see its contents anymore. He hurried to the door, twisting the key until the lock snapped. He tried the door knob and the door opened, so he dashed into the hallway and toward a staircase.

He set his foot on the first step and stumbled a little when a door slammed nearby. "Going somewhere?" a guttural voice growled, and a pair of powerful arms enveloped him from behind. Kurt squealed and kicked his feet, but Karofsky's grip only tightened so he couldn't breathe. Kurt stopped squirming and Karofsky sighed with satisfaction, burying his face in Kurt's hair and breathing in deeply, "Mm… you smell delicious. I could kiss every inch of you." Karofsky put his lips near Kurt's ear and whispered, "You want me to eat you out, slut? I'm sure Blaine does and you enjoy every second of it. I've eaten Blaine out. I've had his big cock in my mouth and I've licked him up."

Feeling Karofsky exhale on his neck and holding his breath so he didn't inhale the foul stench of rotten onions and sour liquor, Kurt pushed on Karofsky's chest, "No… Put me down!"

Karofsky immediately dropped Kurt onto the stairs and slammed his foot into Kurt's stomach. Crying out, Kurt touched his bruised skin and twisted away from Karofsky. He startled when he fell off the step and thudded onto the one below it, and before he could stop himself or grab onto something he was tumbling down the stairs. "No!" he screamed, flailing to hold onto something, "Help! Please… Karofsky!"

Kurt fell off the last stair and landed hard on his shoulder and left butt cheek. He didn't dare twitch a muscle for fear of what he would find broken and bruised. His bottom throbbed, making it impossible to sit up. Curling into a tiny ball, Kurt whimpered at the sounds of Karofsky's feet thudding on the stairs. He opened his eyes and looked up at Karofsky when he knelt beside of him, "I'm so hurt…"

Karofsky put his hand on Kurt's stomach, and he pulled a switchblade from his pocket, flipping the blade out. Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers as Karofsky bent over his stomach and traced the dull side of the knife along his thin shirt. He hit Karofsky's arms, "No! Don't!"

Karofsky cut through the material of Kurt's shirt in one clean stab of his knife, and although he didn't go very deep into Kurt's skin the slicing of the cool metal through his stomach was enough to make Kurt shriek in agony. He tossed his head and slapped Karofsky's hands.

Karofsky wiggled the knife and cut a straight line, then turned it and started carving a curve. Kurt squealed and kicked his feet, tears swimming in his eyes. "It burns!" he screamed, but Karofsky paid no attention to his agony.

He lifted the bloody knife and looked down at Kurt's soaked shirt, blood seeping from his skin and ruining the fabric. His eyes flicked to Kurt's scrunched face, his skin bright red and cheeks drenched with tears.

Karofsky lowered the knife again and plunged it in another spot, this time cutting two straight lines that met in a point and one line through the middle of them. Kurt's wailing got louder with every new prick he made in his soft, delicate skin.

With a few more marks on his bloody canvas, Karofsky set his knife aside. Kurt was a quivering mess, his face damp with tears and blood running over his hips, thighs, and chest.

Karofsky reached for Kurt's face, and Kurt quickly withdrew and pulled away from Karofsky. Blood dripped off his shirt and landed in small puddles on the floor. "Go away," Kurt pleaded weakly, bringing his knees to his chest as if that would somehow block Karofsky, "you frighten me."

Snarling deep in his throat, Karofsky crawled toward Kurt and groaned when Kurt scrambled under a nearby table, keeping his hands on his sore stomach. "Get out from under there, bitch," he demanded, but Kurt huddled himself in the corner. "I don't mind sitting here until you bleed yourself to death. You're not doing yourself any favors by making me wait, so get the fuck out _now._"

Kurt's voice trembled, "You're not a nice man."

Karofsky lunged at the coffee table and ripped it off of Kurt, throwing it against a wall. Kurt squeaked at the banging sound, but Karofsky cut him off by squeezing his cheeks between his fingers, "I've been nothing but nice, you little whore! You took Blaine from me and I've waited far too long for him to come crawling back to me like the cock slut he is. I'm done being his leftovers, and I'm done letting you ruin my life."

Snatching a handful of Kurt's hair, Karofsky yanked the squealing boy to his feet and grabbed onto his neck. He lifted Kurt off his toes and dangled him so their eyes met, "I'm going to kill you the same way I killed your faggy fuck buddy."

He stormed up the stairs with Kurt's neck still clenched in his fist, and he listened to his quiet mewling and gasping as he struggled for air. Reaching the top of the steps, Karofsky walked down the hall and into his bedroom. He stood in the middle of the room and looked at Kurt again, "I loved Blaine," he hissed in Kurt's ear, "and he will love me. He knows that he loved me before you showed up, and he can do it again."

"N-No," Kurt shook his head, pulling at Karofsky's slowly tightening fingers, "please… leave Blaine alone. He's—" he gasped and Karofsky loosened his fingers, letting him speak, "—he's happy now. I'll g-give myself up in… in his place."

Karofsky was shocked by that, knowing how Kurt feared him. "You'd let me have you, instead?"

Kurt was growing weaker and could barely speak, his blue eyes fluttering shut, "I w-want Blaine to be happy… because I-I love him…"

Kurt went limp in Karofsky's grip, no longer fighting for air or escape. His head lolled and his worried expression softened. Karofsky, still wondering why Kurt would make such a sacrifice when he never would, pressed his thumb to Kurt's neck. The faintest of pulses drummed under Kurt's skin, and Karofsky knew that within an hour or two the pulse would fade away and Kurt would never open his blue eyes again.

He dropped Kurt's body to the floor and stepped over it, leaving Kurt to bleed to death.

* * *

Blaine stopped his car in Karofsky's driveway and threw open his door, "Stay close to me until I find Karofsky." He snapped, swinging his legs out.

"Blaine, wait," Finn touched his arm, "are you sure they'll be here?"

Blaine didn't answer that because he wasn't sure, but he didn't want to think about Karofsky forcing Kurt to work the poles at Scandals so he jumped from his car. Finn hurried after him, staying right on his heels.

Sprinting to the door, Blaine twisted the knob and swore when he realized it was locked. He pounded the wood with the toe of his shoe. "Karofsky!" he shouted and didn't stop beating the door until he heard metal cracking.

He shoved the door and it burst open, and Blaine stomped into the silent living room. "Karofsky!" he yelled again, his eyes shooting to the stairs at the sound of a bed creaking above them.

Without checking to see if Finn was behind him, Blaine ran to the stairs and took them two at a time. He stopped at the top and glanced either way, seeing no sign of Karofsky anywhere. Starting toward Karofsky's bedroom, he glanced over his shoulder when Finn sharply gasped. "Blaine, _look._" He pointed at the floor, "It's blood."

Blaine followed Finn's finger to a spot of blood, and another almost an inch away from that one. "_Kurt._" He barked, charging at Karofsky's room, where the trail disappeared. "Kurt!"

"Blaine!" Finn shouted, "Blaine, move! Karofsky, _stop—!_"

Blaine turned to Finn and he was almost caught off guard when Karofsky's heavy body slammed into him, but he quickly righted himself. Urgent to get to Kurt, he stabbed his knife into Karofsky's side. Karofsky yelped and let go of Blaine, who shoved him down and lunged at the bedroom Kurt was in.

Karofsky frantically lashed out and snatched Blaine's ankle, pulling his feet out from under him. He tugged Blaine away from his bedroom and in their chaotic scrap Karofsky fell over the stairs and took Blaine with him. The two men rolled downstairs, Blaine throwing punches and Karofsky trying to pin him down.

Shocked, Finn stood at the top of the stairs wondering if he should help Blaine, but as soon as they thudded to the floor Blaine pounced so he straddled Karofsky and smashed his fist into the side of his face. Finn realized that Blaine wasn't having any trouble at all and looked at the bedroom Blaine had been so interested in before Karofsky attacked.

"Kurt?" he murmured, padding inside and jumping at the sight of Kurt's body curled up on the floor. His shirt was soaked in blood and the red liquid trickled over his arms and thighs. Kurt was very pale and trembling as if he was cold, but other than his fluttering lashes and shaking he made no movements. "Kurt!"

Finn dropped to his knees beside of him, and he slid his arms under Kurt's thighs and back. He lifted Kurt against his chest and touched his bloodied shirt, brushing it up to see what Karofsky had done to him. He avoided looking at Kurt's underwear and focused on the slashes across his stomach, spelling out the name _David._

Covering Kurt's stomach and exposed spankies again, Finn gathered him closer and smoothed a damp hair out of his face. Kurt whimpered, and Finn shushed him, "It's alright. It's just me."

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt whispered, his voice very soft and high. "Blaine. I want Blaine."

Something crashing downstairs startled Finn, and he hugged Kurt tightly, "He's here. Open your eyes, Kurt. Are you okay?"

"I'm tired," Kurt moaned, curling into Finn and squishing his cheek against his chest. "Can I sleep now?"

"Yeah, if you want," Finn got to his feet and carried Kurt out of the room. He glanced down the stairway and had to twist his neck in order to catch a view of Blaine and Karofsky grappling in the kitchen. Karofsky was obviously the stronger of the two, but Blaine was in a rage over Kurt and seemed to be fighting effortlessly.

He waited until Blaine tackled Karofsky and got him at his weakest to yell down to him, "Blaine!"

Blaine's head snapped up and his eyes zeroed in on Finn, and a look of absolute adoring and love overwhelmed his cruel, murderous expression. He seemed to forget all about Karofsky and whispered something that Finn couldn't hear, and he left Karofsky panting and wounded on the floor.

Finn glanced back at the tiny form in his arms, and he stroked Kurt's cheek to stir him, "Kurt… Kurt, Blaine's coming. We'll take you home."

Kurt didn't twitch.

Patting his shoulder, Finn said a little louder, "Kurt, come on. I know you're tired and sore, but Blaine will want to make sure you're alright."

Kurt gave no response, so Finn lightly shook him. He noticed that Kurt's chest wasn't lifting and dropping. "Kurt?" Finn put his hand under Kurt's nose, feeling no air blowing out of Kurt. "Kurt!"

Pressing his hand to Kurt's heart, he anxiously searched for any kind of fluttering under his skin but there was nothing. "Kurt, don't you dare—!" he screamed, his eyes flashing toward Blaine, who was limping up the stairs and looking at Finn as if he was crazy. "Blaine, he's not breathing! There's no heartbeat!"

Blaine shook his head and stared at the fragile boy in Finn's arms as if he didn't recognize him. Then his eyes slowly lifted to Finn's screwed up face and he screamed, "You're lying! Give him to me! _Kurt!_"

Kurt's blue eyes weren't opening.


	54. Smooth Criminal

Author's note: All I can say about this chapter is that Blaine's a good fiancé :) It picks up where I left off and is more from Blaine's pov. It's an emotional and big chapter for him and I actually like it. I hope you guys enjoy it just as much :) JMarieAllenPoe, you're a beautiful person. Thanks to my awesome readers who are just wonderful people and make me smile with every review/favorite/alert! :D

lovemesomecrazy: Adam seemed nice on the show but I get on Glee Wiki a lot and read that he was a possible love interest for Kurt and, like I said, I only ship Kurt and Blaine. I respect your opinion of him but I don't think I could ever like him. I didn't even like Finn in the beginning because of the relationship he had with Kurt, but after they became brothers I started to tolerate him :)

Luz Estrella: Karofsky's almost done for this story :) I think I'm going to give him one more scene but that's it.

Guest (sorry :/ I don't know your username if you have one): I understand what you're saying about Burt, and I'm trying to make him sound like a good guy but in every story I've ever written the parents come out as bad people. I don't know why, even when I'm trying to make them nice, but it just happens :/ Burt does care about Kurt and Blaine, but he doesn't understand about Karofsky because they won't tell him anything. About Kurt fainting, I have no idea about how the body works (I almost failed my science course on that) so I'm just winging it and if it comes out unrealistically I'm really sorry but it just seemed better to have Kurt ask about Blaine and then faint. I don't ever get the police involved because I want Blaine to rely on himself more because of the independent person he is. I don't think he'd be the type to take his problems to someone else, and he'd just keep it to himself and handle Karofsky on his own. I appreciate your opinions on everything :) Thanks for sticking with my story.

Klaine forever and ever 3: I read your review about a hundred times because it cracked me up so much. You have no idea how much I love getting your reviews. I love Kurt ALMOST as much as Blaine loves Kurt (I don't think anyone could love Kurt more than Blaine) though I won't say if I'll ever kill Kurt or not (that sounded really mean after I wrote it :P) but I think you have a pretty good idea of whether I would or not :P

devilcat82: I feel terrible for making all of my readers wait after that! I wanted to update IMMEDIATELY but then my laptop broke D: Actually, just the screen kept turning green and fuzzy and I THINK the guy said it was a bad LCD wire or something? So now my laptop is being worked on in Kentucky (one state away from me), so for now I'm on my main computer and I can only write on weekends :/ Wow, that was a lot of rambling... But, anyway, I finally have it up! :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Your reviews always make my day :) I love getting them. Thank you so, so much for your support! Karofsky won't be back for a while, but I can't make any promises about other angst :/

Spoiler alert: NATIONALS UP NEXT. Woot.

* * *

Blaine still didn't understand what Finn was yelling. It was so muffled and his left ear was sore from when Karofsky had punched it. Finn was shaking Kurt, screaming something that Blaine couldn't make out. "Finn?" he muttered, his voice low and guttural. "Stop shaking him."

Finn's eyes shot to Blaine's face, his pupils blown out of proportion. "Blaine…" his voice faded again, and Blaine shook his head to clear it. A cold wetness dripped onto the tip of his nose and he wiped it away. He glanced at the smear of red across his palm and lifted his hand to a raw gash on his head.

Wincing, Blaine put his hand down and glimpsed over his shoulder at Karofsky's slumped body, bruises swelling on his pale skin and stripes of blood cut across his face and neck. He turned around and held onto the wall, limping into the living room. He'd never felt this tired, like he could collapse at any moment.

"Kurt," he whispered to himself, lifting his head to where Finn stood with Kurt in his arms at the top of the stairs. Finn was still shaking him, saying something to him, holding him tightly. "Kurt."

Finn suddenly yelled, and this time Blaine made out, "—don't you dare—!"

Blaine staggered onto the stairs and half-dragged himself up five of them, black spots blurring his vision with every hard step he took on his right foot. Damn, was he sore. He tried to focus on Finn, but felt himself growing weaker, fainter… He thought he might pass out. _I'm not breathing,_ he told himself, _I have no heartbeat._

Damn, was he cold.

His head throbbed and he stumbled, but quickly caught himself on the railing. He peeled his lashes apart and looked to where someone was murmuring, and his jaw clenched as his eyes finally zeroed in on the beautiful boy curled against Finn's chest. "Kurt," he mumbled again, pulling himself up a few more steps despite the stabbing pain shooting up his leg. "Kurt."

"Blaine," cut through his stupor like a knife, "he's not breathing! There's no heartbeat!"

Blaine gritted his teeth and hobbled up another stair, never tearing his eyes from Kurt, who was absolutely limp. "Kurt," he said, flicking his gaze to Finn's scrunched face. Finn was desperately whispering to Kurt, frantically pleading with him, words like _please_ and _come on._ "I'm breathing," Blaine realized that it'd been Finn talking to Kurt, and that startled him, "I have a heartbeat."

His eyes snapped back to Kurt, who was still motionless, cheeks pale and lips white, the only streak of color on his creamy body the gorgeous, brown hair on his head. "Kurt…" he focused on Finn, his wild eyes and his parted lips as he nearly screamed at Kurt, and although he was cut and bruised and battered, nothing felt worse than that punch to his heart. "You're lying!" The words ripped out of Blaine's throat, an instant denial to what Finn was convinced of, "Give him to me! _Kurt!_"

Ignoring the piercing pain with every little twitch he made, Blaine tore up the remainder of the stairs and smacked his body into Finn's. Finn yelped but didn't try to shove Blaine off when Blaine took Kurt from his arms. The light weight on his chest felt so right there, and Kurt was so soft, but so cold, and Blaine wanted to warm him.

His legs wobbled as his muscles stretched, and he fought to hold Kurt up, but he was so dizzy and felt himself swaying. He fell onto his butt to avoid dropping Kurt, and wrapped him tightly in his arms. "Kurt!"

Kurt went limp against his chest, not a single finger twitching. Finn knelt beside him and stared at him, brown eyes wide with worry. "Blaine, there's no pulse—"

Blaine growled at him and gathered Kurt closer, his fingers tracing the blood soaking the front of his shirt. "Get me something wet." He demanded, brushing a hair off Kurt's forehead.

Finn didn't move, "Blaine, he's—"

Blaine didn't want to hear it and barked, "Now!"

Recoiling at the aggravation in Blaine's tone, Finn jumped to his feet and glanced down at the kitchen, but hesitated when he saw Karofsky's body lying on the floor. "Bathroom," Blaine nodded toward the end of the hallway, "a warm towel." His eyes suddenly flashed to Finn, and Finn was startled by the helplessness he saw in them. "Please… Finn, help me."

He'd never seen Blaine so needy or ask for help from anyone. "Fine," Finn nodded, rushing down the hallway and disappearing into the bathroom.

Blaine reached for the bottom of his shirt and easily tore it, his buttons flying in all directions. Shrugging it off and hissing when he rolled his sliced shoulder, Blaine draped it over Kurt's thighs and pulled at his ruined shirt. He gently and so carefully peeled it off his bloody skin, but Kurt still didn't make a sound even when he tugged it over his head. Bunching the offensive article up, Blaine threw it aside and stared at a nearly naked Kurt. It was obvious that something had been scratched into his stomach, but the blood was so smeared that it was impossible to read.

Blood streaked Kurt's panties, also, but he heard Finn returning and avoided taking those off yet. Finn immediately turned his head at the brief view he got of a pale shoulder, and he felt his way over to Blaine and handed him the towel. "What do you need me to do?" Finn murmured, still turned away.

Blaine was busy patting Kurt's stomach and barely realized Finn had spoken, "Go check on Karofsky. Make sure he doesn't get up. I left my knife down there."

"I'm not going to stab him!" Finn shrieked, "That's insane, Blaine!"

Blaine shot Finn a bitter glare, "He will kill you if you don't. Now go."

Finn shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, but darted down the stairs, anyway. Left alone with Kurt, Blaine dabbed the blood until Kurt's stomach was pink and only smudges of blood painted the canvas. Running his finger over a thin line sliced through Kurt's skin, Blaine stroked the scratchy letters that spelled out Karofsky's first name. An animalistic snarl rumbled from deep in his throat.

"I've claimed him," Blaine gritted his teeth, sliding a finger under the waistband of Kurt's spankies. He slipped them down his legs and flicked them away, then bundled Kurt in his ripped shirt. Putting extra pressure on Kurt's stomach so he didn't lose any more blood, Blaine slid his hands up to Kurt's chest. He curled his knuckles against Kurt's heart, alarmed when he felt absolutely nothing.

"Kurt." Blaine rubbed Kurt's bottom lip and watched splotches of pink dust the paleness of Kurt's mouth wherever he touched, but as soon as he pulled his hand away Kurt's lips drained of color again. "Kurt… it's me."

Kurt's lashes didn't even flutter, and Blaine's jaw hardened with dread. "Kurt…" he swallowed, bending over Kurt and laying his cheek against his heart. Not one beat. "Kurt."

Anxiously Blaine pinched Kurt's nose and moved his lips over his. He shuddered at the sweet taste of Kurt, opening his mouth and forcing Kurt's open with his. Blowing on Kurt's tongue, Blaine pressed on Kurt's chest. He lifted his head and began shaking as Kurt didn't sigh, didn't wriggle, didn't do _anything. _"Open your eyes," Blaine commanded, his voice trembling. "Kurt… please… if you love me, you'll take my hand. Squeeze my hand. Kurt… Kurt… I need you… Squeeze my hand. Please. Kurt, just… open your eyes a little and I'll buy you anything, give you anything. If you want a thousand shoes, they're yours."

When Kurt didn't wrinkle his nose or furrow his brows as he considered the offer, Blaine's eyes filled with tears and he slid his fingers through Kurt's. "Squeeze my hand," he begged, "Kurt… squeeze my hand. Please. I'm holding yours."

Blaine didn't know how long he stared at Kurt, waiting to feel the slightest of trembles, waiting to see those pretty blue eyes open, but they didn't. And they never would.

Tears rolled over Blaine's cheeks and he collapsed to the floor, his head falling against Kurt's cool stomach that wasn't moving up and down with every sip of breath. "Squeeze my hand…"

Kurt's fingers were lifeless and cold.

* * *

Blaine jabbed a finger into the water and checked that it was the perfect temperature, then rolled his sleeves up. He pulled Kurt higher up on his chest and lifted his body, laying him in the heated pool of water. Kurt's head lolled and he slid, so Blaine wrapped an arm around him to hold him upright. "I'm going to wash you," he told Kurt as if he could hear him, "I'm sorry if your cuts will sting. I'll be so gentle with you."

Outside of the bathroom, he heard footsteps and low muttering, one voice clearly Finn's, "Hey, thanks for coming over, buddy."

"I ditched my job as soon as I got your text," someone who sounded like Puck explained. "Is he okay?"

Finn's voice hesitated, "We don't know. We took him to the doctor the other day… Blaine had trouble letting others touch him, but… they thought it might be a severe coma from blood loss." Finn's words died and Puck was obviously speechless so Finn quickly switched the subject, "Come on downstairs. Blaine will be out in a bit."

Blaine listened to them walk away and looked at Kurt. He dipped the washcloth into the water and soaked a cut near a purplish bruise on Kurt's hip. "I'll wash him off of you," Blaine rambled to Kurt again. "Your cuts will heal and you won't smell like him anymore and he won't be on you, Kurt."

Rubbing the soap between his hands to warm it up, Blaine smoothed it over Kurt's soft skin and watched a trail of bubbles follow the cake. They popped and Blaine washed them away, leaving Kurt's skin shiny and pink.

Once Blaine finished washing him, he pressed his lips to Kurt's forehead and breathed in the raspberry shampoo. It was nearly drugging. "I'm going to lift you," he whispered to Kurt, bundling the slippery boy in his arms. He hobbled to his feet and held a dripping Kurt to his chest, then reached for a towel and covered him. He carried Kurt out of the bathroom and across the hall, laying him on their bed. He dried Kurt from his toes to his hair, then turned away to find him clothes.

He went to his dresser and opened his drawer for his old tee-shirts, pulling out one from when he was probably fourteen or fifteen. Returning to Kurt, Blaine slipped his tiny body into it then flopped beside of his legs. He writhed to be closer to Kurt, his eyes on his small face. Beautiful but hurt, Kurt looked so much more delicate than usual, so vulnerable and unprotected. Blaine would never let him out of his sight again.

Scooting until half of his body was on top of Kurt, Blaine put his nose centimeters from Kurt's, "So, Annie, are you okay?" He nuzzled Kurt's ear, "Are you okay, Annie?"

"You've been hit by," hummed another voice from his doorway, "you've been struck by…"

Blaine glanced up and whispered, "A smooth criminal."

Santana stopped the song there and blinked at him, "You look exhausted." When Blaine didn't answer to that, she stepped out of the doorway and looked down at her feet, which were being circled by two little birds, the yellow one stumbling with a wrapped wing. "How have you been?"

"Scared," was the first and only thing Blaine said.

Santana shrugged, "Me, too." Pausing, she nodded toward the doorway, "Everyone's downstairs. Lots of people brought flowers. You should probably go talk to them."

Blaine ignored her suggestion and smoothed Kurt's hair, "I don't know how you ever leave Brittany."

She didn't answer that and went to sit down in the windowsill, "I'm sorry this happened, Blaine."

"I'll never let it happen again," Blaine assured her, patting the bed when he noticed his tiny birds wiggling and peeking at the two forms on the mattress. Everett climbed the bed sheets to get up, but Blaine had to bend over the side of the bed to scoop Pavarotti into his palm. "Maybe it was carelessness… Karofsky hadn't attacked in a while so I… was stupid and thought he'd given up. And I left him alone."

"Don't blame yourself," Santana argued, "and he wasn't alone. He had his dad and Finn's mom."

"They didn't hear anything," Blaine shrugged that off. "The TV was too loud. San, this _is_ my fault. Everything is. I'm the one who went with him in the first place… I lost everything four years ago, and now I almost lost Kurt."

"Blaine, you didn't know." She sighed, "No one would have. He had all of us convinced." Crossing her arms, Santana let the conversation fade into silence as Blaine buried his face in Kurt's hair and stroked his birds to comfort them as they worried over Kurt.

Suddenly, a knock on the door frame interrupted them, and Blaine immediately stiffened and put an arm over Kurt, but then he saw Finn and relaxed. Finn tried to smile, "Hey, dude. A few of the… uh… guys want to come in. Care for some company?"

Blaine collected Kurt against his chest and covered him with a blanket, "Okay."

Finn made a gesture outside the door and feet tromped up the stairs, and soon enough a few noses poked in. "Hey, Blaine," Puck was the first inside, "how is he?"

Blaine didn't answer because a few of the other glee guys walked in, followed by Blaine's brother, and Finn came to sit at the end of the bed. Cooper pushed his way through the other guys and rubbed Blaine's shoulder, "How are you feeling, bud?"

Puck lowered beside of Finn and swatted Blaine's foot, "Dude, we just want to tell you that if you ever need us for anything, come talk to us. We're brothers and we always have each other's backs."

Blaine stared at the guys around him, two of them who used to be his greatest friends, and the rest of them easily forgetting the asshole he'd once been. He realized that Kurt had been right all along. "Can I tell you guys something?"

Each of them smiled at him, giving him permission to say anything he had to. Taking a breath, Blaine closed his eyes, "I-I'm… gay."

No one said a word and he opened his eyes, startled when they didn't appear shocked in the least. Puck laughed at Blaine's expression, "We know, dude."

Blaine didn't know what to say to that, so Coop crawled past Puck and winked at the guys, "Can I have a minute with Blaine? Some privacy?"

Finn quietly rounded the guys up and took Santana's wrist, leading the group outside. He shut the door behind himself with one lasting glance at Blaine and Coop. Once they were by themselves, Coop threw himself beside of Blaine and looped an arm around his neck, "Is this what you wanted to tell me… about Karofsky?"

Blaine nodded, "There's more."

"Talk to me," Coop encouraged. "You're my baby brother. I'll give you all the time in the world." Blaine hesitated and swallowed, but his mouth was too dry, so Coop sighed and rubbed his shoulder, "Kurt's gonna be fine and you're going to be so happy with him, Blaine." He leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of Blaine's eye, "I love you. Whenever you're ready, you can talk to me."

"I want to tell you now," Blaine blurted, and his brother arched a brow at him. "His real name is Eli Carofsky and…"

* * *

Blaine crawled under the blankets and curled himself around Kurt's tiny body, bundling him against his chest. Stroking Kurt's hair and face, Blaine bent to touch his mouth to Kurt's, "I love you." He gazed at Kurt's small face, a beautiful face, and rubbed his thumb across his plump mouth.

"So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?" Blaine hummed, his voice quiet, "As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo." Hugging Kurt tighter, Blaine glanced over his shoulder at the busted window, covered by a thin tarp to keep the wind out. "He came into her apartment, he left the bloodstains on the carpet. She ran underneath the table, he could see she was unable."

He paused to catch his breath, closing his eyes and blocking the images stuck in his head of Kurt squealing and writhing to escape Karofsky's murderous hands. "So she ran into the bedroom, she was struck down. It was her doom." His eyes swelled and he rubbed them with his knuckles, small pools of tears dripping onto his hands. "Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?"

Looking at the boy cuddled in his arms, Blaine sniffled and whispered to him, "Kurt, are you okay?"

He nuzzled into Kurt and laid his lashes on his cheeks, wrapping his leg around Kurt's waist. "Squeeze my hand…" Feeling fluttering on his jaw, Blaine murmured and pressed his face into Kurt's. Then the gentlest of touches caressed his ear, rubbing his stubbly jaw. The warm hand traced his neck, tickled his collarbone, and then stroked his biceps and forearms. Fingers curled around his wrist, sliding to his palm and lightly squeezing his muscular hand.

"I'm okay, Blaine," a pretty voice cooed in his ear, and his eyes snapped open with alarm.

Kurt's lashes quivered, the corners of his eyes crinkling as a gorgeous smile curved his lips. Blaine couldn't speak, his mouth open and pupils blown out of proportion. "Hold me tighter," the lovely sound startled Blaine even more, and he held Kurt to his chest. Kurt stroked Blaine's face and snuggled into him, his cheek pressed to the hollow of Blaine's neck.

Lifting his hand from Blaine's cheek, Kurt gasped and widened his eyes. Blaine slid his fingers through Kurt's and kissed his fingertips, "What is it?"

Kurt parted his lips and flicked his eyes over Blaine's shoulder, "My ring. My engagement ring. He took it off of me and threw it."

Blaine glanced around the room and spotted a tiny, glittering object by the desk, so he peeled himself off of Kurt and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I'll get it." Throwing his legs off the bed, Blaine walked over to the ring and picked it up, relieved that none of the diamonds had been chipped or fallen out.

He returned to Kurt and slid under the sheets, taking Kurt's hand and slipping the ring back onto his finger. Kurt whimpered with pleasure and cuddled into Blaine, "How are Pavarotti and Everett? Where are my little birds?"

"Asleep," Blaine smoothed Kurt's hair and urged him to relax. "They're fine."

Kurt was quiet for a few moments as Blaine played in his hair, enjoying holding his fiancé in his arms and having him hold him just as tight. But then those seconds ended and Kurt was troubled again, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead, "I'm alright, baby. How do you feel? Sore? Do you ache anywhere? I'll rub your feet and massage your shoulders."

When Blaine moved to scoot to the end of the bed, Kurt clung to him, "No… stay with me. I want you to hold me." Rubbing Blaine's chest and shoulders, Kurt tilted his head to kiss a dark nipple. Blaine shuddered and groaned. "I should feel pain after what he did to me, but I don't. Not with you… not when I'm wrapped in your arms."

"I never stopped taking care of you," Blaine muttered, and Kurt's blue eyes lifted to his face, "I bathed you and put salve on you and bandaged you and… whatever damage he did to you is gone now, Kurt. I'll never let him have his way with you again."

Kurt's bottom lip trembled, "Thank you." He cupped Blaine's face and brought it close to his so he could kiss him, "You're so brave, Blaine, and so kind. You came for me even though you knew I was with such a mean man, and then you cared for me. You deserve a thousand kisses."

"I think I'll get quite a few more than that," Blaine chuckled, tilting his head and nipping Kurt's bottom lip. "Maybe a million?"

Kurt giggled and blushed as Blaine teased with him, "Two million and that's all, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine rolled on top of him and bumped their noses, rubbing his against Kurt's, "Not even close, my little sweetheart." He pressed their lips and made his words very true by morning.


	55. Man in the Mirror

Author's note: Hi, readers! I'm really sorry about the two week hiatus :/ I suffered from severe writer's block with this chapter and wrote about a hundred drafts of it. I'm still not the biggest fan of it but it'll have to do :) I decided to hold Nationals off a little longer because I wanted to show some of Kurt's healing process first, so I put the conclusion to Kurt and Blaine's English project in instead. Sorry about the bad writing style in this one, too, I've kind of been cramming it when I can because I've been busy with homework, then I went to see Warm Bodies and a ballet of Romeo & Juliet, and I seem to be getting sick just about every two weeks and sleeping a lot. (Luckily I don't have some hag rubbing Vicks Vapor Rub on me.) I'm hoping Nationals will turn out better. So, as mentioned, this chapter isn't that interesting or long, but it has some brotherly bonding for Blaine and Finn, Blaine doing something drastic (that everyone was expecting), and Kurt rejecting Blaine's kisses (poor Blaine :p). TREMENDOUS thank you to JMarieAllenPoe, who has helped me so much with this chapter! Some of the dialogue is hers and it's all the loveliness in the world.

More spoiler alerts: Kurt's going to yell at someone for, like, the first time ever. Blaine's going to cry because of humiliation. Prom will be after Nationals and Santana will have a huge surprise for Kurt and Blaine. Brittany will come back from the dead XD.

Nationals set-list (as far as I know, make changes if you want.): Cough Syrup, Fix You, Blackbird (no, Pavarotti won't die :p), and I'll Stand By You (there isn't usually a fourth song but this is a fanfic so I can and will). I'll Stand By You and Call Me Maybe were both song suggestions by ObsessiveGleeSyndrome, who has wonderful tastes in music :)

P.S. Because I missed updating on these two spectacular days, Happy belated Valentine's Day and Happy belated Birthday to Darren! :)

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I cannot wait to use I'll Stand By You for Nationals! It's such a pretty song and will fit what happens in my Nationals chapter perfectly! :D Let me know if you have a different song for Nationals/any other occasion :) I always love getting your reviews!

julymom97: Thank you so, so much! I appreciate it :)

devilcat82: I'm glad you weren't too worried :P I have my laptop back now so yay!

Klaine forever and ever 3: Don't go Lima Heights on me because I took two weeks to update XD I have Klaine fluffiness! You'll have to wait and see about France, they still have about another month and a half before they have to face that. And... please... bring the Spanish back. It was always so exciting trying to read your threats :D I love your reviews and your Spanish and your threats and your username. They all make my day. :)

SilverWhiteDragon: I thought you weren't reading this anymore so I'm really glad your back! To re-cap, Blaine did a LITTLE CPR and I actually didn't know about the other fact about ending up brain-dead... so I'm considering Kurt lucky XD or this is just really unrealistic. And they did go to a hospital, Finn mentioned it briefly in his dialogue, but I liked the idea of Blaine taking care of Kurt and then him kissing Kurt awake :P

prosen8966: It's fine that you weren't logged in! I just had no idea that it was you. Thanks for explaining everything. I didn't take anything you said as negative (the only time I ever think that is when someone just says that they don't like it and don't give a reason why) and I totally get where you were coming from. I wasn't in the best mood after writing that, either :P Kurt's just too cute and sweet to be put through that. I actually based some of what I wrote about Karofsky and Kurt's encounter off of Smooth Criminal just so Blaine could sing that. When I was writing the part where Blaine was begging Kurt to squeeze his hand, I actually had no idea I was writing it like how Kurt was with Burt, but I figured it out later and just went with it. I'm glad it all turned out! Thanks for explaining and liking my story!

deshaunwalker: Sorry about not answering for a while! I like to answer in my chapters and don't usually take that long to update. Karofsky isn't dead, he'll come back in a few chapters but that'll be the last time he makes an appearance in this story. He also doesn't get hit by a bus, that will happen to someone else, but I have considered that :P Kurt wasn't in his coma very long because he's my main character and it was really sad writing sad!Blaine... so he's fine now :) Brittany will be out of her coma soon, I'm debating whether it should be the Nationals or Prom chapter. I'm glad Ryder and Jake worked out for you! It was a last-minute thing to have Blaine want to visit the guy he punched and I considered having it be Rory, but Ryder and Jake were pretty obvious because they're so close in the show. And, yeah, Blaine can be a dick. He is very spiteful and resentful because of how Karofsky forced him to be, but his distance with Burt is kind of necessary because it's going to lead him to a huge decision later on. Okay, I'm done boring you with detailed backstory! I hope you keep reading! I appreciate the support :)

* * *

Blaine turned into the school's parking lot and scanned for an open parking space, his eyes pausing on each and every student who passed by. He recognized some faces from the football team, or his peers who gave speeches at every assembly, or even the kid who he had a vague memory of sitting next to in calculus or biology, the kid who had asked him for a pencil or something like that. Blaine bet he had a secret. They all did. Maybe Daddy didn't love them and beat them whenever he got drunk—which was often, or they slept with some asshole who blackmailed them for it, or they killed someone because he was different. Blaine had plenty of secrets, but maybe he didn't have to be scared anymore. He could just love Kurt and… let go.

Pulling into a spot, Blaine put the car in park and looked at Kurt, who was curled up in the passenger seat and humming along with the tune on the radio. He was so perky and happy even after all that had happened to him, and Blaine wanted to be like that, to be fine. Kurt's nose wrinkled and he laughed at something Finn said, his blue eyes shimmering and dancing.

Blaine tuned in to what they were saying when Finn reached up and covered Kurt's shoulder with his large hand, "Let me have your books. I'll carry them inside."

Kurt cooed and patted Finn's fingers, "That's very nice of you, Finn." He bent to collect the bag by his toes then handed it to Finn, "I have two of the sweetest men at my whim."

Finn flushed red, a color that was common for him around Kurt, "It's no big deal. Blaine, the guys said they're waiting inside. They want to know if they can help with Kurt—carry his books, walk him to class, spoon-feed him lunch."

At that last, Blaine shot him a glare and rolled his eyes, while Kurt giggled until his belly cramped and he hiccupped. Finn snorted and shrugged his shoulders, "I'm sure any of them would if he asked."

Blaine slugged him on the shoulder, "Don't push it."

Finn popped his door open and stepped onto the hot pavement, and Kurt wiggled to hop out and see his doting friends. Blaine unstrapped him then himself, and threw his legs out of the car. He walked around it and opened Kurt's door. Kurt's small fists curled and uncurled around nothing until Blaine wrapped him in his arms and lifted him against his chest, then Kurt bunched Blaine's shirt in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Blaine muttered, kicking the door shut.

Kurt nodded so Blaine reluctantly set him on his feet, watching for any wincing or trembling. "Hold onto me?" Kurt mewled, and Blaine was more than willing to practically carry Kurt on his hip, his arm tight around his waist.

When they met Finn around the front of the car, Blaine caught the soured look on his face as he stared at his phone. "What is it?" He muttered.

Finn's brows furrowed and he shook his head, "Nothing. It's just… Rachel's been texting me ever since we broke up. She wants to get back together and I don't know if I trust her any more. What would you do, you know… if you loved someone and they cheated on you?"

Blaine cleared his throat, startled by the question. Dragging a hand through his hair, he grumbled, "I obviously don't like Rachel but… i-if I was in your position… I'd try to trust again. I've told Kurt before that if he ever cheated on me that I'd stay with him… I'd work things out… I'd do whatever it takes to make him happy again, to be the only man he needs. Even if I wasn't to blame for him leaving and finding pleasure with another man… I'd change for him." When Finn's eyes flicked to Kurt's small, pink face but he didn't say anything, Blaine sighed and lifted and dropped his shoulders, "If you want her, talk to her. Ask what she needs in a man because I'm not it. But… I think you deserve better, Finn."

Finn finally nodded and looked at Blaine, "Thanks for the advice. You're the only person I've talked about this to." Biting his bottom lip, Finn shifted and leaned into Blaine, embracing him tightly. "You're the greatest friend I've ever had. I love you."

Blaine, shocked by the hug, twitched and started to pull away, but, because of something he couldn't quite understand, he was comfortable. Unsure of what to do, Blaine balled up his fists and patted Finn's sides. Finn chuckled at Blaine's stiffness and squeezed him, "It's okay." He promised him, "I'm not going to harm you."

Shuddering, Blaine lowered his shoulders and slowly wrapped his arms around Finn, "I-I love you, too."

Finn smiled and pulled away, then slung an arm around Blaine's shoulders, "You don't have to be afraid, Blaine. Not with me."

Blaine's throat was dry so he cleared it, and he mumbled something that sounded like a "thank you" to Finn. Finn probably didn't know exactly what Blaine was thanking him for, but he smiled anyway and squeezed Blaine's arm. "No big deal," he said again.

Finn left his side and strode ahead of them, so Blaine focused on Kurt who batted his lashes at him and smiled. Kurt slid his fingers through Blaine's and lifted the hand that wasn't around his waist, pressing it to his lips. Blaine's lips curved with a smirk and he curled his fingers, grazing his hardened knuckles over the soft skin of Kurt's cheek.

"You're brave," Kurt whispered to him, cuddling into his chest so there was no space between them. "My hero."

Blaine tilted his head and kissed Kurt's dark blond hair, "No… _you're_ mine."

* * *

_I don't let people inspire me._ Blaine flicked his eyes to Kurt's small face, pink with giddiness as he giggled at something Puck told him. Probably one of those "…so I said to the guy, Leggo my Eggo…" stories. _Their betrayal hurts. _Kurt's dimples popped and he tossed his head with a pretty laugh. _I don't want to be close to people._

"Kurt, do you think you'll make it to Nationals?" Artie patted Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt turned to him with a breathtaking smile that caused the guys to flush, each absolutely enthralled with him.

Kurt looked at Blaine and he wrapped his arms around his neck, "Blaine and I would like nothing more."

Blaine touched Kurt's hands to keep him looped around his shoulders, his cheek pressed to Blaine's nape. _But Kurt's impossible to avoid._

Kurt sighed on Blaine's hot skin and he nuzzled under Blaine's chin. _He changed me… made me into a man._

"Finn, dude, who's your presentation on?" Puck bumped Finn's shoulder.

_I love him._

"Cooter Menkins," Finn shrugged like it was no big deal.

_He'll come back to me._

"Any volunteers to present next?" Lumbly muttered from his desk, scratching something down about the last person's presentation.

_I proposed to him here._

"Mr. Anderson and Mr. Hummel."

_I'm gay._

Running a hand over his hair, Blaine got to his feet and lifted Kurt out of his chair. Kurt put his toes on the floor and held onto Blaine as he walked to the front of the room. Blaine turned and looked at his classmates, most of them bent over their phones or passing notes. His friends stared at him, giving smiles and nods of encouragement. Finn winked.

Blaine swallowed.

_Maybe I don't have to be scared anymore. I can just love Kurt and… let go._

Blaine took a breath, "I don't let people inspire me…"

* * *

Kurt wobbled and clutched Blaine's shirt to keep his balance, so Blaine quickly scooped Kurt off his feet and cradled him against his chest. "Better?"

"Oh, thank you." Kurt sighed, lifting his foot and unstrapping one of his shoes. He tugged it off and rubbed a red mark, "It feels so nice to take those off."

Stopping in the middle of the parking lot, Blaine boosted Kurt higher and bent over his toes, kissing them one by one. "I'll give you a foot massage when we get home. Are they sore?"

"A little," Kurt frowned at his toes. "I'd like a foot massage very much… as long as you use our cherry-flavored moisturizer. It always makes me hungry for cherries because it smells so good."

Blaine chuckled at that and kept walking, "I'll make you a cherry cheesecake for dessert, then."

"That'd be very sweet of you," Kurt cooed, growing oddly quiet as he stroked Blaine's strained biceps. "Blaine? Can I ask you something?"

Blaine paused in step again, "Of course, honey. Anything."

Kurt mashed his lips and tugged one of the strings on Blaine's jacket, "Why am I your inspiration? There are so many wonderful people to look up to… Patti LuPone and Barbra Streisand… Oh! And even Paris Hilton. Not when she drinks or hooks up with those bronze, buff sugar daddies… but her fashion line is very pretty. I would wear anything of hers on the runway."

"Kurt," Blaine shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips, "Kurt, sweetheart, look at me."

Kurt jumped from his fashion daydream and lifted his blue eyes to Blaine's grinning face. "That's exactly why you're my inspiration."

"What's exactly why?" Kurt looked confused.

Chuckling deep in his throat, Blaine hugged his fiancé tighter and brushed their lips. "Everything about you is so perfect." He whispered against his earlobe, nipping it between his teeth. "Even when you babble about Paris Hilton's hook ups."

He carried Kurt to his car and popped open the passenger door. Setting Kurt down, Blaine started to close the door until Kurt grabbed his sleeve. "Blaine?"

Blaine stared at Kurt's round eyes, his blond lashes quivering, "Yeah, baby?"

"I'm so proud of you." Kurt covered Blaine's hand with his soft palm and squeezed, his fingers wrapping around Blaine's hard wrist. "You had the courage to let everyone see that you're really mine… that you're gay."

Blaine shuddered and pressed his lips to Kurt's, "I want you to be."

Kurt suddenly giggled against his mouth, and Blaine tugged away, "Two million, Blaine Anderson, and that's all I promised." He stuck his nose to the ceiling to make his rejection clear.

"You little brat!" Blaine took Kurt's chin between his fingers and turned his head so he could press kisses all over Kurt's blushing face, "I lost count. I could be at a thousand."

Kurt's blue eyes popped open and he scrunched his face, "Not the way you ravish, you're not."

Blaine stole another kiss on Kurt's nose, "Let me count the hickeys on your pretty, little bottom. That'll prove if I'm at two million or not."

"Maybe three million wouldn't be so bad." Kurt murmured on Blaine's mouth, sighing as Blaine's tongue pressed his bottom lip.

"Five million," Blaine's voice was muffled.

"Fine," Kurt gave in, wrapping his arms around Blaine and tugging him close, "but only because your kisses are amazing."

"I'll get you up to seven million by the time you go soft under me." Blaine threw his leg over Kurt and pushed his tongue between Kurt's lips, and to Kurt's shame, he easily conceded at nine million.


	56. Tongue Tied

Author's note: Hi! So, I missed just about an entire week of school because of my sickness and this is what I wrote when I wasn't having coughing spasms :) Everything except the last scene is all crackfic material and totally not necessary to the plot, but necessary for Klaine. In this chapter you will see Kurt and Blaine exploring New York, Pavarotti and Everett in a bird purse, Puck flirting with Blaine, Kurt and Blaine flirting in a coffee shop, Kurt and Blaine betting on Snuggies, piggyback rides, cuddles by a water fountain, Blaine playing a prank on Kurt, Kurt playing in sprinklers, Blaine looking into some of his fetishes (the man has a lot of fetishes :P), and smut. I think we all understand that I'm not good at smut but I will throw it in here sometimes :) The next chapter will be the actual competition. So, in the morning I'm taking my kitties to the vet so I'm not sure if I'll have time to get the competition chapter done for Sunday, but I will have it up soon :)

deshaunwalker: Thanks! I love Finn's relationships with Blaine and Kurt, but especially Blaine :) He's such a sweet best friend and brother!

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I was listening to McFly while editing this c: it gave me all kinds of Klaine feels. I was kinda imagining Blaine wooing Kurt with a little ukulele singing Love is Easy :D maybe one day for this story... Okay 1. I love concerts so much! and 2. McFly is an amazing band! Their music videos are so precious. So have fun when you go to see them and tell me how beautiful it was! So, I read your review the other day and I saw that you liked how sweet my last chapter was, so I kinda wrote the snuggles by the fountain and Blaine's prank on Kurt just for you :D

Klaine forever and ever 3: I have no shame in admitting that I fought through that smut just because you asked for it XD I started it before I got your review but I HATE writing it because I'm no good at it, so I considered deleting it... but then I didn't... just for you... enjoy the awkward sexiness. :O I read most of your review without having to put it through a translator! Three years of Spanish is finally paying off. :D

P.S. There's a short story romance writing competition coming up in June that I'm considering entering. I have plenty of plots that I'm planning on writing, but I want to turn those into novels. I was wondering if anyone could give me a plot for a short story (I would give credit, obviously.) I'm good at writing stories like these, which means I can't write BDSM, abuse, cheating, etc. I also like working with dom!sub and can write sci-fi. If anyone could help, I'd really appreciate it. Also, if anyone's interested in the competition, I can give the website (I just don't have it saved right now, it's on my other computer.)

P.P.S. Thanks to whoever recommended my story for klaineficspdfs, I'm more than flattered! And thanks to Meridith4132 for mentioning it to me and answering my many questions! :D

* * *

Blaine brushed his fingertips over Kurt's pale cheek when the plane shuddered and the seatbelt sign flashed, "Kurt… Kurt, baby, it's time to wake up." Kurt's nose twitched. He burrowed into Blaine's shirt and grabbed handfuls of his jacket.

"It's too bright." He mumbled to Blaine's chest.

Blaine cuddled Kurt tighter and smoothed his hair. Rubbing his forehead, Blaine yawned and rolled his shoulders. He glanced at Puck who had his nose buried in his phone. "What time is it?"

Puck lifted a pair of dull eyes to his face, "Almost eight. Man, why did Schuester have to get us an overnight plane? My neck is so cramped."

Finn returned from the front of the plane, his arms trembling as he balanced packs of peanuts and small cups of water in his hands. He stopped by Blaine and handed him one of the cups, then passed another to Puck.

Blaine put the cup to his mouth and sighed as chunks of ice hit his dried lips. Kurt stirred against him and squeezed his chest, so Blaine pulled the cup away and pressed it to Kurt's lips. "Mm…" he sipped the cool drink, "I'm so thirsty… and hungry."

Finn offered Kurt a pack of peanuts, and Kurt took it and munched the salty nuts.

"Schuester said he'll give us three hours of free time before we have to meet up and rehearse," Finn said, flicking his eyes between Blaine and Puck. "Me and Puck are hitting this diner and then heading over to an arcade. Blaine, are you in?"

"Fries, burgers, milkshakes, and Dance, Dance Revolution." Puck smiled, bumping fists with Finn, "I won't let you beat me again, Anderson. You cheated at the sleepover, anyway."

"Sore loser." Finn coughed.

Blaine arched his brows at them, "Kurt and I might catch up with you later. Kurt loves to sight-see."

The plane shook again, and Kurt moaned as he pressed his belly, "I feel dizzy."

"Close your eyes." Blaine took him against his chest. "Hold onto me."

Kurt laid his lashes on his cheeks and cuddled into Blaine, his body weak and limp. Blaine ran his finger up and down Kurt's back, then returned his attention to Finn and Puck. Puck folded his hands behind his head and stretched his legs. "How long will it be until we land? Poor cutie is green." He grumbled, accidentally kicking the tiny bag at Kurt's feet. He jumped when it chirped.

Blaine bent to collect the purse, and Pavarotti and Everett poked their beaks out of the holes cut on either side. "Kurt brings his birds everywhere." Finn muttered to Puck, "You get used to it after a while."

The plane smacked the runway, startling Kurt as his head lifted and he gripped Blaine tighter. He turned and looked out the window, "Oh, we're here." He said to no one in particular.

Blaine unstrapped his seatbelt and reached for Kurt's hand, lifting him to his feet. The rest of the glee club struggled to stand on sluggish legs. Blaine left Kurt to step into the aisle and get his bag from the overhead storage, and he slung it over his shoulder. Taking Kurt's hand again, Blaine walked with him to the front of the plane.

Finn and Puck were right on their heels as they stepped off the plane and met Schuester at the entrance to the airport. Schuester patted Finn's shoulder, "Guys, I'll find your luggage and get you checked in to the hotel. Blaine, you bought a separate hotel room for you and Kurt, didn't you?"

Blaine nodded.

"Okay," Schuester glanced past them when the rest of the group arrived, "I want you guys back at the hotel in three hours. Stay in groups."

Hooking his arm around Finn's shoulders, Puck grinned at Blaine. "We'll see you later, Lady Fabulous." He pulled Blaine close and scrubbed his hair, then pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Bye, cutie." He winked at Kurt.

Finn got in a little wave before Puck dragged him off.

Blaine rubbed the saliva off his cheek and grimaced, then glimpsed at Kurt as he took a step away. He checked out everything from the souvenir shops to the café. Sniffing in that direction, Kurt frowned and rubbed his stomach.

Sliding his fingers through Kurt's, Blaine kissed his jaw and nudged him toward the tiny coffee shop, "You can get whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Oh, thank you!" Kurt looked over the board, tapping his chin as he considered his choices, "Mm… I can't decide between a blueberry muffin and the coffee cake."

"I'll get you both," Blaine decided, and ordered those and a latte for himself.

After he grabbed the food and his drink, Blaine pinched Kurt's skirt and led him over to a small table in the corner. He pulled out a chair for Kurt. Kurt blushed and nipped his bottom lip as he sat down. "That's very gentlemanly of you."

Blaine yanked the chair on the other side of the table closer to Kurt, "Are you sure you don't want a coffee? Or water?"

"Hm… no…" Kurt shook his head, "but your drink does smell good." He pulled the latte closer to himself and licked the whipped cream off the top, then gave it back to Blaine.

Blaine smirked at him, "Kurt, you have…" he pointed at his own nose. Kurt tilted his head, not getting what Blaine was trying to say. Blaine couldn't control himself anymore and laughed, leaning across the table and kissing the tip of Kurt's nose. "I don't know about the rest of the drink, but the whipped cream is very good."

Kurt still didn't understand. Blaine put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist, his gentle eyes on Kurt's small face. Kurt suddenly realized why Blaine looked so humored and covered his nose with three fingers, "Oh!"

Blaine laughed again, tearing a piece off Kurt's muffin and popping it into his mouth. "You're adorable."

"I'm so embarrassed!" Kurt cried, slumping and crossing his arms. He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

"It was cute." Blaine argued, "But your pouty face is a close second."

Kurt pursed his lips so Blaine couldn't see it anymore.

Blaine pouted that time, then distracted himself by taking a bite out of Kurt's coffee cake. "We have to see Times Square today. It's one of the most romantic places in New York and…" he paused and cleared his throat, "when we came to New York before… I wanted to kiss you so badly there. I never got the chance to."

Kurt's mouth was suddenly dry and his fingers were tingly. Standing on shaky legs, Kurt bent and cupped Blaine's face. He pressed their lips and tugged Blaine to his feet. "Come," he whispered into Blaine's mouth. Blaine grabbed what was left of their food and his latte, getting right on Kurt's heels.

"Kurt, where are we going?" Blaine slid his fingers through Kurt's, finishing off his latte and pitching it in a nearby trashcan.

"I want to be adventurous, Blaine." Kurt smiled and walked through the sliding doors. His heels clicked on the pavement as soon as they stepped outside. "I want to see everything with you."

"What do you want to do?" Blaine lifted Kurt over a broken part of the pavement, then set him back down.

Kurt spotted a fountain on the other side of the road and pointed at it, "Blaine, look how pretty!"

He hopped and clapped his hands, scurrying over to the running water. Blaine followed him and stopped at the ledge, while Kurt jumped onto it and made a circle around the fountain. When he got back around to Blaine, Blaine reached out and snatched him, swinging him against his chest. Kurt squealed with laughter and looped his arms around Blaine's neck.

Blaine sat on the edge of the fountain and propped Kurt in his lap. Kurt poked the bubbling water, then took his finger out and shook it. "It's so cold." He touched his damp finger to Blaine's cheek. Blaine turned his head and kissed the wrinkled tip, warming it.

Returning his attention to the fountain, Kurt looked at the rippling water and slipped his foot out of his shoe. He skimmed his toes over the top of the water. "I like this." He whispered to Blaine, "Being held by you like this."

"Mm hm…" Blaine buried his face in Kurt's hair, pressing kisses over the dark blond coif.

Spotting a patch of tulips by Blaine's shoe, Kurt bent and picked a yellow one. He held it to his nose and breathed in the flowery perfume, then stuck it above Blaine's ear. Blaine opened his eyes and touched the petals, his eyebrows furrowed. Kurt giggled, "The yellow makes your eyes pop."

Blaine ran a hand over his hair and pulled a pink tulip from the bunch, braiding it through Kurt's hair. "Pretty." He kissed Kurt's chin.

Kurt curled into Blaine, humming his approval. "You know how to romance, don't you, Blaine Anderson?"

"You don't know the half of it," Blaine whispered in his ear and licked the lobe. "Now I want to do something. Close your eyes."

Kurt looked doubtful of him, "What is it, Blaine?"

"Just trust me."

Sighing, Kurt closed his eyes and let Blaine take his hands. Blaine stood and half-carried Kurt over to a little shop tucked away at the end of the street. Kurt scrunched his nose at the strong scents, "Blaine? What smells like… fried tomatoes?"

Blaine laughed and set Kurt down in an area away from other people, "Stay here. Don't open your eyes."

Kurt reached out for him when he walked away, but he returned a few minutes later and touched Kurt's face. Kurt jumped. "It's okay," he kissed his forehead, "it's just me." He nudged Kurt out the door and leaned him against a wall. "How much do you trust me, Kurt?"

Kurt started to open his eyes, then remembered what Blaine said and quickly closed them, "Too much." He giggled, then sniffed again, "What do you have? Mm, it smells so delicious. My belly is rumbling."

Blaine lifted a slice to Kurt's lips, "Bite down."

Kurt closed his lips around the cheesy mess and pulled, sauce squirting from the edges and stringy pieces of cheese clinging to his chin. His eyes popped open with alarm. "Oh, Blaine!" He flailed his hands, and Blaine tried not to double over with laughter. Tears sprang from his eyes. "I've never seen a food with so many carbs!" He said with his mouth full of pizza.

Blaine licked the cheese and sauce off Kurt's chin and lips, then put his face against Kurt's chest as Kurt frantically chewed and swallowed. Kurt swatted the rest of the pizza away. Shaking with laughter, Blaine kissed Kurt's collarbones, chest and stomach. "I'll gain seven pounds from that, thank you very much!"

Blaine couldn't stop laughing, "I like my men with wider hips."

Kurt turned away and crossed his arms, pointing his nose up. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt from behind, "Oh, baby… I was teasing with you. Are you too upset?"

"I'm not upset." Kurt's bottom lip trembled, "I don't like that it tasted good."

That sent Blaine on another riot. Pressing his lips to Kurt's neck, Blaine muttered, "Was that your first New York style pizza?" Kurt nodded. "I'll help you finish it if you want more."

Kurt mashed his lips as he thought over Blaine's offer, then he nodded again, "Just two more bites."

"Three."

"_Two,_ Blaine Anderson."

* * *

"Blaine! Blaine, look!" Kurt patted Blaine's arm and pointed into one of the shops, and Blaine followed his finger to a bedazzled Snuggie. "There's another one! You owe me a kiss!"

Blaine kissed Kurt's expectant mouth, "You know, with your kind of betting, neither one of us is getting punished."

Kurt bounced on his toes, "I have the satisfaction of not only willing, but also getting kisses." Turning around, he looked longingly at the Snuggie, "I could use a Snuggie right now. I've heard that they're very comfy."

"Are you getting sore?" Blaine stopped and bent over, "Here, get on my back."

Kurt eagerly climbed onto Blaine and hooked his feet around his hips, his arms falling over his shoulders. Blaine boosted him higher up and held onto his butt. "I've never been carried like this before." He mentioned idly, running his fingers through Blaine's gelled hair that was slowly frizzing from the glue.

Blaine tickled Kurt's left butt cheek, and he squirmed. "We have about an hour before we have to go to the hotel. Is there anything else you want to see?"

Kurt laid his cheek on Blaine's nape, "Wait… Times Square. We _have _to see that."

"Kurt, if you're tired—"

Kurt scratched Blaine's shoulder, "Please? I really do want to see it… and kiss you there."

"You're so sweet." Blaine kept walking forward and they passed about six blocks before he stopped, "It's up there." He put Kurt on his feet and took his hand, and they walked up to the plaza. It wasn't busy yet because of how early it was, giving both of them a clear view of the towering buildings.

"Do you like it, Kurt?" Blaine whispered to him, stroking his hair.

"I love it!" Kurt squeaked, prancing up to a Broadway theatre. "Oh, Blaine, I'm so happy to see this with you!"

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers when water squirted out of a sprinkler about a foot away from him. Another spray followed, and then twenty more. Shrieking, Kurt skipped into the water, much to Blaine's surprise. Blaine watched as Kurt danced around in the sprinklers, laughing as he caught the water in his hands.

Kurt's pretty dress was soon soaked, and his darkened hair was dripping. "Blaine!" he motioned for Blaine to join him, "Blaine, Blaine! This is so much fun!"

Blaine stepped toward the sprinklers and took Kurt's bird purse off his shoulder. He laid it down so Pavarotti and Everett weren't soaked, then got in with Kurt. Kurt hopped toward him and pulled him into a direct spray. Giggling, Kurt jumped onto his body and hugged him tightly, his blue eyes huge and sparkling with excitement.

Blaine couldn't breathe.

Kurt tossed his head and closed his eyes, delighting in the cool droplets chasing each other down his neck and slipping into his bodice. Blaine watched them disappear one by one into his wet dress, the material clinging to his body.

He really couldn't breathe.

"You're beautiful," he hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until Kurt lifted his head, water dripping from his lashes and onto his nose, and his lips moist and puffy.

Kurt grinned at him and pushed his hair off his eyebrow. "_Pardon?_"

"You're beautiful," he said again, "so fucking beautiful. I want you."

The smile slipped off Kurt's lips and he looked confused until Blaine suddenly lunged at Kurt's mouth, devouring him. Kurt moaned and twisted his fingers in Blaine's ruined hair, his legs tightening and body pressing to Blaine's hardened, tense chest.

Blaine licked Kurt's bottom lip and Kurt opened, and he tangled his tongue with Kurt's. "Oh," he whimpered, clinging to Blaine, "Blaine… Blaine… we're not alone yet. Do not kiss me like this until we're in our hotel room."

"Let's skip rehearsals," Blaine begged, "let's be alone. Kurt, _please,_ I have to have you. I need to be inside of you. I want relief in your warm, tight—"

Kurt squeaked again and covered Blaine's mouth with his palm, "Shh… Not here. Okay. Okay. I want to be with you, too."

Blaine hunted for Kurt's lips again and pressed his mouth very firmly to them, "I can't stop wanting you." He hissed, pressing his cheek to the slippery material of Kurt's dress. Kurt quivered and moaned.

* * *

Blaine dropped between Kurt's spread thighs and pressed his mouth to Kurt's throat. Kurt was breathing too quickly, almost panting. "So beautiful…" His muscular hand grabbed Kurt's thigh, then he slid it up to Kurt's pulsing cock. "You're needy."

"Mm…" was the only sound Kurt could make as Blaine rubbed his leaking tip with his thumb.

Blaine wrapped his hand around Kurt's small cock and gently rubbed it up and down, up and down. "I've never seen such a pretty cock." Blaine looked between their bodies at Kurt's stiff sex, "So pale… your pink, little tip… soft…"

He took Kurt's hand and brought it to his cock, "Touch yourself, my little sweet. You should know why I think your body is so pleasuring."

Blushing, Kurt looked away from Blaine and brushed his knuckles against his tip. "You're embarrassed." Blaine sat up on his knees and bent over Kurt's cock, placing a kiss at his tip. "Don't be shy with me."

Kurt slowly wrapped his hand around his sex and mewled. Blaine's eyes narrowed and he grabbed his own cock, pulling it. "Like… this? I don't know how." He pushed his bottom lip out again.

Blaine smiled at his innocent lover. "Exactly like that. Oh, don't pout, pretty thing. I'll make you feel better." He rubbed his thumb across Kurt's plump lips and sucked Kurt's bottom lip between his teeth. "I love your rosy mouth… making it moist and swollen with kisses…"

Kurt shyly poked his tongue at Blaine's, his toes curling into Blaine's leg hair when Blaine licked Kurt's tongue. Blaine parted from Kurt with a wet sound. He looked ruffled, his hair sticking up and his eyes huge and bright. His mouth was as red as a cherry and his lips were parted, heavy pants blowing out of him.

Kicking a leg over Kurt's waist, Blaine straddled him and slid his hands under his butt. He cupped his cheeks and peeled them apart, two of his fingers tracing up and down his crack. Blaine bent over Kurt's neck and bit the soft skin, "So soft… so sweet… Mm, Kurt…"

Kurt giggled when Blaine decorated him in kisses, "You make me sound like a yummy treat… Oh! I'm very ticklish there!"

Blaine lifted his head, and Kurt smoothed his fingertips over his rough jaw, the stubble scratchy on his soft skin. "You are a yummy treat." Blaine grinned at him, pressing kisses on Kurt's cheeks and nose.

Looping his arms around Blaine's neck, Kurt giggled and kissed the soft spot under Blaine's chin. He rubbed Blaine's powerful shoulders and the hard lines of his back, his muscles rippling under Kurt's gentle touch. Kurt got to the curve of Blaine's ass and paused, then took the muscular cheeks in his palms and squeezed.

Blaine grunted and bucked, hissing when his pulsing cock rubbed Kurt's. "Oh, babe…" he moaned lowly and pushed himself back up on his elbows.

Kurt circled Blaine's left cheek with his finger, "Please… I liked that."

Blaine's eyes darkened and his mouth fell open. He pushed his hips down and brushed his cock against Kurt's. His pre-cum leaked onto Kurt and moistened the bottom of his cock, and he kept rubbing it. Kurt dug his nails into Blaine's ass and he squeaked.

Rubbing faster, Blaine reached between Kurt's legs and touched his scrotum and the top of his cock. He massaged the throbbing scrotum and Kurt cried again, his hips swiveling to match Blaine's rhythm. "B-Blaine… I _can't!_"

"A little more, baby," Blaine encouraged, circling his thumb around Kurt's weeping tip. "Oh, sweetheart, you're so close."

Kurt's thumb followed his to the point of his cock, so he took it and rubbed it against the pink skin, "How does that feel? Look at yourself, Kurt. You're gorgeous."

"It feels good," Kurt whimpered, "and soft." He reached for Blaine's cock and wrapped his hand around the shaft, "You feel harder… and bigger." Parting his lips, Kurt moved so he could close his lips around Blaine's head. He suckled and licked the largest vein protruding at the bottom of his cock. Blaine threw his head back with a noisy groan. "You taste salty." Kurt whispered after he pulled his lips off. "Do I taste just as salty, Blaine?"

"No, honey," Blaine said when he could get air, "you taste sweet." Pressing on Kurt's tip, Blaine swiped up some pre-cum and held it to Kurt's lips. "Lick."

Kurt licked Blaine's thumb and mashed his lips, "Mm… I do taste sweet." His nose scrunched as he thought of a new question, "Do you like the way I taste? Is that why you kiss me there and take me between your lips every time we make love?"

Blaine shuddered and lowered himself between Kurt's thighs, "I love the way you taste, honey. I love when I can lick it off my chin and lips when you come in my mouth. I love the way I can wrap my tongue around you. I love when you push yourself into my mouth. And I love kissing every inch of you and hearing you make those little sounds."

Closing his lips around Kurt's crown, Blaine moved his head up and down and suckled gently. "Mm… oh, baby… so sweet…"

He lifted again and returned to Kurt, who pressed his hands to Blaine's chest and knotted his fingers in the mat of dark hair. He pressed their lips again, and Kurt licked Blaine's bottom lip. "You like the way you taste," Blaine kept pulling Kurt's cock, "like a little berry… or sugar."

Kurt blushed and hid his face under a pillow, squeezing it to his cheeks. Blaine rubbed some pre-cum onto his thumb again and held it above the pillow. He tried peeling it off of Kurt but Kurt hugged it tighter. "Can you tell me what berry you taste like? I thought it was blueberry."

Squirming, Kurt rolled onto his stomach, giving Blaine a good view of a round, pink bottom. He pinched the left cheek, "You have a cute, little bottom, Kurt."

"I do?" Kurt's blue eyes lifted and he glimpsed at Blaine, only to flush and hide again. "Oh, you're ogling it!" He moaned into his pillow, kicking his feet.

Blaine laughed and petted Kurt's bottom, "I love your little dimples right here and here." He pressed his fingers into the two spots on Kurt's right and left cheeks. Putting his face above it, Blaine smothered Kurt's butt in wet kisses. "Kurt?"

Kurt sniffed.

"Baby, I want to enter you from behind." Blaine rubbed Kurt's back. "I'll be gentle… I won't hurt you."

Kurt peeked at Blaine, half his face still squished to the pillow. "I trust you."

Blaine kissed the small of Kurt's back, "I know, sweetheart." He wrapped his arms around Kurt and lifted his hips from the bed. Pointing Kurt's butt at the ceiling, Blaine got to his knees and pressed his balmy tip to Kurt's pink scrotum.

"Oh," Kurt looked over his shoulder at Blaine, "that feels good."

Shuddering, Blaine pushed into Kurt's tight heat and stroked Kurt's back, "Are you okay?"

"Mm… y-yes." Kurt dug his fingers into the pillow.

Blaine jerked his hips back, then plunged in. The bed shook and slammed into the wall. Moaning, Kurt stretched to meet Blaine's stuttering hips. He thrust against Kurt's prostate, shouting when Kurt squealed and clenched. His tight walls squeezed Blaine, and Blaine rocked inside of Kurt as he exploded, his come dripping down Kurt's thighs.

When he finally got control of his body again, Blaine slid out of Kurt and pulled him into his arms, collapsing to the bed. He tugged Kurt against his chest and kissed his nape. Sighing, Kurt ran his fingertip over his sticky thigh and put it on his tongue. "It's definitely cherry, my Blaine."

Blaine chuckled, "_I_ still think it's blueberry, but cherries are a favorite of mine, too." Taking Kurt's leg and lifting it, Blaine dropped between his thighs and licked Kurt again.

* * *

Blaine rubbed his nose against Kurt's, smiling when his pink mouth opened in a yawn. "Go to sleep, beautiful thing. I won't let you go." He wrapped his arms around Kurt and pulled him close. Kurt curled into his body, rubbing his puffy eyes. Blaine covered him with the blankets and hummed, but quickly growled and shot a glare over his shoulder when someone knocked on the door.

Kurt's blue eyes popped open and he lifted from Blaine's chest, "Oh, who would be visiting so late?"

Blaine laid Kurt down again, "I've got it, sweetheart." He threw his legs off the bed and stalked over to the door, yanking on a pair of boxers as he went. He opened the door and furrowed his brows at the entire of the glee club on the other side, Finn and Schuester in front. "What's going on?"

Finn's eyes widened as he spotted Kurt bundled under the blankets, his bare shoulders sticking out. "Kurt, are you naked?"

Kurt shrieked and searched himself for anything that might be showing.

"No…" Finn shook his head, "you're not… I just thought…" he looked back at Blaine. "Are you doing my little brother on the _Nationals _trip?"

Puck coughed, "They are engaged, and this is Blaine we're talking about. What did you expect? Calm down."

Schuester waved Puck off, "Finn… uh… let's worry about that later. Yeah… um… Blaine, we have some bad news. If you want to get dressed…"

"Tell me now," Blaine demanded.

Finn nodded for Blaine to leave the room, his eyes on Kurt's curious face, "We want to tell you alone."

Blaine looked over his shoulder at Kurt, then back at Finn and Schuester, "Okay." He glanced at Kurt again, "Sweetheart, I'll be back in a minute. Don't worry."

Puck stepped past Blaine, "I'll stay with him."

Finn shut the door and pulled Blaine away from it, "Don't freak out, okay?"

"I won't." Blaine shrugged, "What, Finn?"

Schuester cleared his throat, "Blaine… we got a call from one of the Nationals judges. He said he used to work with Kurt… he's a fashion designer, too. Kurt wore a few of his things on the runway." Blaine still wasn't reacting, so he tried to finish in one breath, "He said he's very sorry and that he enjoyed working with Kurt, but he has to disqualify Kurt because he's a professional."

Blaine's jaw dropped, "What?"

Across the hallway, the elevator doors dinged. Finn grabbed onto Blaine's shoulder to keep him steady, but he released him just as quickly. "_Santana?_"

Blaine narrowed his eyes at Finn. "What?" he said for the last time.

He followed Finn's wide eyed gaze to the elevator doors as they slid open, and out walked Santana and Brittany.


	57. I'll Stand By You

Author's note: Hi! This is my National's chapter, which is a really big chapter for Blaine. It picks up immediately after my last chapter. There isn't much I can say about it without giving everything away, so I guess you'll just have to read to find out about the adventures of Klaine :) Thanks to JMarieAllenPoe, for being an amazing Beta. You're my tweetheart! I know I said the set-list would include Fix You, but at the last minute I changed it to What Kind of Fool, so I hope you like it! Oh, and Kurt yelling at someone also got deleted. I was gonna have him yell at Adam (yes, the same one from the show) who would have been the judge who disqualified Kurt, but I really didn't want that pervert in my story. Yet. Maybe later. So, Kurt doesn't yell at someone.

Spoilers for upcoming chapters: Kurt, Blaine and Finn will play a game. Kurt will be a princess in this game, and will be very competitive. Kurt and Blaine will slow dance in the next chapter, and probably kiss a lot. They always do. I have two more chapters (including prom) until graduation. The graduation chapter might be the most important chapter yet. At least two of the scenes will be in a hospital and in an alleyway. Brittany will pass out again (I don't like Brittany, so expect bad things to happen to her.) There will be a mini Blaine introduced in the graduation chapter.

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I wrote that part and I couldn't stop laughing at it! But I love Puck's little nickname for Kurt, and how he coddles him :D and Lady Fabulous is an absolute must, too! I was thinking about where I could put Love is Easy in, and I finally got the perfect place for it. Don't expect it soon, it won't be for quite a while, but Blaine with a ukulele is worth the wait XD Um... I don't have much fluff in this one, but that part where Kurt is squishing Blaine's cheeks can be for you :D The chapter title is for you, too!

P.S. Puck is not gay. Just thought I'd clear that up. :P

Enjoy, my lovely readers!

* * *

Behind Blaine, the door pushed open and Kurt's button nose poked out, "Blaine? Are you okay?"

Blaine tore his eyes from the two girls heading his way, and he collected Kurt against his chest, "Shh… everything's alright. I just…" he shook his head and looked at Brittany and Santana, "Brittany? Santana, what are you doing here? You didn't tell me that Brittany came out of her coma."

"Should she even be traveling?" Finn whispered to Puck, and Puck shrugged.

Brittany swayed and held a hand to her head, so Mike rushed to catch her before she fell. Santana left Brittany's side and motioned for Blaine to step away from the group, "Blaine, we need to talk."

Blaine hesitated to let go of Kurt, who was snuggled against his chest and watching the girls with huge, worried eyes. Schuester patted Blaine's back, "Blaine, you should go. We'll look out for Kurt."

"Yeah, we've got him," Puck put his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "What do you want to do, cutie? Go to the cafeteria? Finn tells me you're a fan of warm milk for a midnight snack."

"Puck—" Blaine huffed when Puck stole Kurt from his arms, but he gave up and let them take Kurt down the hallway. Turning to the girls again, Blaine ran a hand over his hair, "How long has she been awake?"

Santana folded her arms around Brittany, "A few days." Smoothing Brittany's hair off her face, she muttered, "Is there a place she can sit down? She gets dizzy."

Blaine opened his door and reached for Brittany's waist, guiding her inside. He sat her down at the end of his bed and stared at her pasty face. Her skin was about two shades paler than Kurt's, a sickly color, and dark bruises enveloped her narrow eyes. Her lips were cracked and thin, and her cheeks were hollow.

"I know how she looks," Santana bit out, lowering beside of Brittany. "You don't have to stare."

Blaine rolled his eyes, "I wasn't staring." He turned away and walked across the room to prove his point, "You wanted to tell me something, or can I go get Kurt before Finn and Puck get him hyped up on sugar?"

"I'm really tired, Blaine." Santana mumbled, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Blaine dropped his shoulders and he turned, hands grabbing the edge of a dresser. "I know."

She ran her fingers through Brittany's hair again, "No… Blaine… I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of being afraid… not knowing when he'll come back. And how badly it'll hurt the next time he does. He almost killed Kurt, he put Britt in a coma… Blaine, we don't know when he'll stop. I'm done letting him get away with this."

Blaine raised his hands to show that he didn't know what to tell her, "What do you want me to do, San, hunt him down? Kurt's safe with me—"

"That might be enough for you, but I can't go on like this anymore!" Santana got to her feet and jabbed a finger to his chest, "I'm going crazy waiting for his next attack. I know you'll protect me and Britt, but I-I haven't slept in weeks and I can't eat and I—"

Pulling her to his chest, Blaine murmured, "I know… but there's nothing we can do about it."

"I called the police." Santana's lashes quivered with overflowing tears, "I had to, Blaine. I couldn't take it anymore."

Blaine pushed her away, "You got the police involved?"

"Yes," she said firmly, daring to challenge him, "I told them everything, I gave them a yearbook picture of him… Give me your tape. I want to turn it into them."

"No," Blaine shook his head and backed away from her. "Santana, are you out of your mind? That's what he wanted me to do! He threatened to follow Kurt to France and slit his throat once he was out of jail… if they even find him. If they start tracking him, he'll be enraged. He won't stop. How can I ever let Kurt go to France now? You're making me hold him hostage here!"

"Karofsky would have followed him, anyway!" Santana screamed, tears dripping down her cheeks, "If you're so worried about Kurt, man up and go with him to France!"

"I can't!" Blaine was also yelling, his entire body shaking. "My brother's baby—"

"Shut up, Blaine!" Santana seemed to shock herself when her hand smacked his face, and she stared at him for a moment to see how he'd react to the slap. "You're so fucking selfish. You're scared of leaving Lima because Karofsky knocked it into your hard head that you're just a Lima loser. This has nothing to do with a baby. It's you, Blaine, and you still have so much of Karofsky in you."

She gathered a wobbly Brittany against her chest, then staggered out of the room. When he looked up he was startled to meet the eyes of some of the glee club kids. Finn was holding Kurt to his chest, and Kurt's cheeks were streaked with tears. "Blaine—" Kurt whimpered, tugging from Finn's hold.

"Shh," Finn pulled him back, "come on. Let Blaine cool off for a while."

Blaine lunged at the door when Finn took Kurt away, "No, Finn. I want Kurt—"

Puck stopped Blaine with a push to his chest, "Dude… you're out of it right now. Kurt doesn't need to see this. Let him sleep with us tonight. We'll take care of him."

"Please…" he begged, his fingers curling and uncurling. His fingernails scraped his palms and gave him a jolt.

Puck flicked his eyes to Blaine's hands and his lips pressed together, "Blaine…" was all he said, then he walked away. A moment later, Blaine heard from the room down the hall, "Cutie, you can have whatever bunk you like!"

Kurt squeaked, "Blaine! I want Blaine!"

Finn quickly tried to soothe his brother, "Shh… He's okay. Come on, you can have my bed…"

Their voices faded away and Blaine closed his eyes, hitting his face against the wall. Scrubbing his hair, Blaine stumbled away from the door and fell onto his bed. He curled himself up in the middle and stuck his face in Kurt's pillow, sniffing his flowery perfume. Tears dripped off his cheeks and soaked the warm fabric under his head. He was so cold, but he didn't bother pulling the blankets over his body. Those wouldn't have warmed him the way Kurt did, wrapping his little body around him as he drifted to sleep.

He missed him.

He slept lonely for the first time in a long time, but by three in the morning when he still hadn't closed his eyes and was staring at the door, wanting Kurt to open it, he realized he wasn't going to sleep much at all.

* * *

Blaine rolled onto his stomach and pulled a pillow over his head when someone shook his shoulder, "Blaine! Blaine, you've got to get up."

Squinting through mostly closed lids, Blaine glared up at Puck, "Do you have to be so loud?"

Puck seemed to have forgotten about last night, or at least pushed it aside, because he whacked Blaine with a pillow and grinned at him, "Get up, grumpy. I'm heading down for some pancakes. Want me to bring you anything?"

Blaine slowly sat up and scrubbed his scratchy face, "No. Where's Kurt?"

Puck rolled off the bed and got to his feet, "I think he's still asleep, or Finn might be waking him up." He started toward the door, but before he left he glanced at Blaine again, "Hey… um… I'm sorry."

Sighing as Puck closed the door, Blaine flipped onto his side and stared at the clock. It was almost six. He slid his legs off the bed and untangled himself from the ruined sheets, lifting his arms in a massive stretch. He got to his feet and searched the pile of clothes on the floor for his shirt, then remembered that Kurt had it on. Pulling out his suitcase, Blaine threw his clothes aside until he found a white undershirt. He quickly yanked it on.

Walking into the hallway full of chattering hotel guests, Blaine slipped through them and over to the guys' room. He opened the door and tripped on someone's bag, then flicked his eyes around the bunks. A few of the guys were still passed out, but a couple of them were up and about, bumping into each other and mumbling about who got the bathroom next.

Finn was sitting on one of the top bunks, bent over a small form curled up in a pile of blankets. He must have spotted Blaine because he glanced at him, then kept whispering to the boy. Blaine stepped over another bag to get to them, and finally Finn acknowledged him, "Hey… I just woke him up." He returned his attention to Kurt and rubbed his knee through the blanket, "Are you hungry?"

Kurt yawned and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head.

Finn threw his legs over the ladder and jumped down, stopping by Blaine, "Be gentle with him, okay? He wouldn't sleep last night… I held him until he stopped crying, but he was still pretty shaken up. I'm sorry I took him from you… he really needed you." He started to step past Blaine, but suddenly remembered something else, "Oh… he knows about being disqualified. It may have slipped. I was just looking for ways to get his mind off you. He's handling it well."

Blaine was quiet about that and approached the ladder, climbing it. He dropped beside of Kurt's legs, tickling his ankle, "Are you mad at me, baby—?"

Kurt was on top of Blaine in seconds, pressing kisses on Blaine's lips, "I'm not mad at you. I can't ever be mad at you."

Blaine sighed with relief and pulled Kurt close, stroking his messy hair, "I lost my temper, and I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I want to keep you in my arms at night… all the time… I'm never, ever letting you go again." He decorated Kurt's small face in kisses.

Kurt kissed Blaine's chin and took his hands, putting them on the small of his back. "I missed feeling your arms around me, holding me tight. Please, don't let them take me from you again."

"Never." Blaine agreed.

There was a knock on the door that caused a few of the snoozing guys to jerk awake, "Guys, be at rehearsals in an hour!"

"Oh, rehearsals!" Kurt skittered off of Blaine and he sat up on his knees.

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle as he reached for Kurt's thighs, "So much for not letting you go."

Kurt's round eyes returned to Blaine's face and he linked their fingers, "You can hold my hand while I get ready."

* * *

Blaine lifted Kurt over a few boxes of props and set him down, trying to keep him from being squished in all the chaos of singers running around. Finn and Puck spied them from the other side of the room and they pushed through groups of people. "_Damn,_ Kurt." Puck lifted his hand for a high five from Kurt.

Finn slugged him before Blaine could, "Dude! His big brother is standing right here!"

"You like it?" Kurt smiled and brushed the front of his gold, hourglass dress that was clinging to all the right curves. Golden sparkles shimmered up and down the tight fabric. He completed the look with a pair of strap, golden heels. He hadn't done much with his makeup so it didn't take away from the dress, but had brushed his lips with a dusting of dark red lip blush, and wrapped smoky liner around his eyes.

"You look really good, Kurt." Finn approved of his little brother, then glared at his knotted tie again. He pulled it under and tugged, growling when it only got worse. "Dammit."

"You pushed it through the hole one too many times," Kurt stepped toward his brother and started undoing his mess.

"Did Blaine teach him to say that?" Puck snickered, and that time both Finn and Blaine slugged him.

Kurt ignored it, or maybe he didn't know what Puck was talking about. He took the two ends and showed Finn what to do, "See… you put that through there, and then you tug that…" he stuck his tongue out as he concentrated, "and then you pull the end and… There. Ta-da. You could borrow a few of Blaine's clip-on bowties."

"Thanks," Finn smiled, tugging his tie.

Blaine put his hand at Kurt's waist, "I'm going to take Kurt to his seat now."

"When I blow a kiss after we win, it'll be for you, cutie." Puck squeezed Kurt's arm, then let Blaine take him.

After they walked off the stage and Blaine found Kurt a seat in the front row, he pulled him in for a hug, "Mm… you're my good luck charm. I love you so much." He opened his mouth on Kurt's, tickling his tongue with the tip of his. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Kurt rubbed Blaine's chest, "I'm proud of you… I can't wait to watch you perform. Not a single person in the other clubs is better than you, Blaine Anderson. You don't need any good luck."

Blaine laughed and kept holding Kurt, "You're too good to me."

"I know I am," Kurt teased, then reached for the tiny purse hanging at his wrist. He opened it and two little heads popped out, "Hello there, little birds. Want to give your daddy kisses before he goes on stage?"

The little birds bobbed their heads at Blaine's hand and pressed their beaks to it. Kurt giggled and reached past them to pick up a daisy. He held it up to Blaine, "Oh, no! They ate one of the petals!"

Blaine burst into laughter and took the nibbled flower while Kurt scolded his birds, "Who ate the petal? Was it you, Pavarotti? You're my naughty bird—" Blaine cut Kurt off by cupping his face in his hands and pressing their lips very firmly.

When they pulled apart, Kurt was breathing much faster and he looked flushed, "Oh… you're a very good kisser."

"I love you," Blaine said again, and kissed his nose. "I love you."

Kurt's skin turned very red, "I love you, too."

Blaine pinched Kurt's butt, "Kurt, you look really sexy in that dress. I love the way your cute, little butt looks in it."

Kurt giggled at Blaine's flattery, then he tapped his chin, "Oh… what is the word Americans say? You look… hot?"

"That's one way to put it." Blaine kissed Kurt's neck, "Mm… tell me how the French say it."

"_Vous êtes un très bel homme._" Kurt looped his arms around Blaine's neck, "You are a very handsome man."

"What about…" Blaine stroked his cheek, "you are so pretty and I want to kiss your mouth a hundred times?"

Kurt blushed, "Don't tease me… You make me so breathless without the flirting."

"I'm not teasing you." Kissing Kurt's ear, Blaine tried to remember something and said, "_Je t'aime._"

Laughing, Kurt laid his cheek on Blaine's chest, "Make the _j_ silent. Here…" he pinched Blaine's cheeks, "Purse your lips when you say it… almost like puckering for a kiss…"

Blaine started to do it, but he pulled away with a snort, "I can't do it when you're holding my face like that!"

Kurt scrunched his nose, and then he made the face himself. Blaine interrupted him saying the words with a kiss, "I couldn't stop myself. You had your lips puckered."

Swatting Blaine, Kurt helplessly giggled and grabbed his cheeks again. He squished them between his palms, "Tell me you love me, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine garbled through something that sounded nothing like English or French, and Kurt tossed his head with a giddy laugh. He clapped his hands and squished Blaine's cheeks again, but was cut off by Finn pulling Blaine away from him, "Guys, what are you doing to each other's faces?"

"I was teaching Blaine how to speak French," Kurt chirped and bounced on his toes.

"I…" Finn shook his head, "I actually don't want to know this time. Blaine, the lights have been flashing. We've got to go."

Blaine snuck another kiss to Kurt's expectant mouth, "Stay here. I'll come get you after the show."

"Blaine…" Kurt called after him, and Blaine looked over his shoulder as Finn pulled his shirt, "I love you."

Blaine grinned, "I love you, too."

"Enough of the eyelash batting, lover boy." Finn shoved him onto the stage, "I'm glad you're so crazy for my little brother, but concentrate on the competition right now."

Puck frowned at him when he took his place beside him, "Blaine… is that lipstick on your cheek?"

Blaine touched his cheek and felt a sticky spot of lip blush, but he didn't wipe it off. He really didn't want to.

The curtains slowly slid open, and the grin dropped from Blaine's mouth. Even through the dimmed lighting, he could see shadows of people in places they hadn't been before. Had everyone multiplied while he was walking up here?

Looking to his left, Blaine stared at Finn, who was staring right back at him with bulging eyes. "Sing," he mouthed.

Blaine's throat was so dry. Suddenly, another boy—maybe Mike—took his part and walked to the front of the stage. Finn shuffled toward him and hissed in his ear, "What are you doing? That was your entrance."

Blaine felt himself swaying. Puck quickly grabbed him as he went for a spin, "Blaine, are you okay? You look pale."

"I can't do this." Blaine covered his face with his hands.

"Shit, he's gonna faint." Puck moved Blaine so he was hidden by the others boys who were throwing quick glances over their shoulders with worry.

"Puck, stop talking." Finn growled, trying to sync his moves with the other guys. "They'll hear you."

Puck's voice was suddenly frantic, "Where did Kurt go?"

Blaine's eyes snapped open and he searched between the swaying bodies for Kurt. He let go of Finn and Puck when he didn't see him. "Kurt—"

"Blaine," whispered a soft voice from behind the curtain, and Blaine looked to his right to spot Kurt. Finn and Puck shoved him toward him, and Blaine hurried to meet Kurt.

"I panicked," Blaine mumbled to him, "I'm sorry…"

"Shh…" Kurt stroked his face and pulled his head to his chest, "it's okay. Do you feel dizzy?"

"No… not anymore…" Blaine shook his head, "I didn't know there were so many people… waiting for me to screw up…"

"No…" Rubbing his back, Kurt drew Blaine away from the noise on stage, "no one wants you to mess up. Every one of them wants to hear you, Blaine, but no one deserves to. You're so good… Your voice is beautiful. I want you to keep your eyes on me. You won't be as nervous. Wow me, baby."

Blaine's head snapped up, "You've never called me that before."

Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine's forehead, "And you've never worn lip blush on your cheek." He started to wipe it off, but Blaine quickly held up his hand to stop him.

"Leave it." Blaine smiled, kissing Kurt's hand that was still by his cheek, "I like it there."

Kurt dropped his hand, his dimples popping, "Me, too, baby."

Blaine grinned at Kurt and walked back onto the stage, his eyes on Kurt as he pranced down the steps to return to his seat. Finn took Blaine by his arm and swung him around, "You okay now?"

Blaine nodded and Finn released him, giving him a chance to steal his part back from Mike as he pirouetted to the front of the stage. Puck smiled at his arrival and slapped his back. Keeping his eyes on Kurt's small face, Blaine hummed the last notes to What Kind of Fool.

Kurt winked at him and patted his fingers together. "I love you," he mouthed to Blaine.

"I love you, too," Blaine said as the music changed to Blackbird. The guys moved around him, taking up new spots in the background.

Blaine flicked his eyes to the rest of the audience just for a moment, then returned them to Kurt. He sang through the first few notes easily, but a camera flash startled him into silence. The notes went on without him. He froze and realized he screwed up. Again.

He looked at his friends, but they were singing backup and absolutely no help. Holding a hand to his head, Blaine tried to listen to the music and muffle the clapping and tapping of feet around him.

His wide eyes went to the audience, most of them looking confused and pointing at him, and the row of judges shaking their heads in disappointment and scratching things down on notepads.

He quickly zeroed in on Kurt, who seemed, for the most part, calm. It helped Blaine to focus, staring at his face. Kurt mouthed something to him, and at first Blaine didn't know what he was saying, then he realized that it was the next lyric.

Picking up the song, Blaine belted out the notes and hoped that a strong finish would be enough to gain the favor of the judges back.

The music cut and switched to I'll Stand By You, a simple song he was sure he couldn't mess up. He looked at Kurt, who encouraged him by mouthing the words with him and shimmying his shoulders to the beat. Blaine adored him. To everyone's shock—even his own—he sang through the notes without tensing up. He was a little flat on a C-sharp, but he would have rather been flat on a hundred notes than stop singing again.

The very last song was Cough Syrup—his own choice for the set-list and the song he was most confident at—so he sang through the notes perfectly. The audience even got to their feet and started clapping with the beat halfway into the chorus, which told Blaine he was doing something right.

At the finish of the song, Finn wrapped an arm around Blaine and led him off the stage. "You did really great, Blaine." He told him, "Cough Syrup will get us a win, if nothing else."

Puck approached them and clapped both of them on their shoulders, "The judges said they'll be ready in five minutes. They said the winner is very obvious this year."

Blaine's stomach dropped, and Puck rubbed his back, "Hey, you were alright. Kurt seemed to enjoy it. He wouldn't stop doing that little shoulder shimmy he does when he's excited."

After a few minutes, Schuester poked his nose behind the curtain. His face was solemn as he waved them over, "Guys, it's time."

Blaine held onto Finn and Puck as they walked to the middle of the stage and lined up in rows. He instantly picked Kurt out in the audience, holding his eyes on him for comfort.

One of the judges cleared his throat and stood, "We had very great clubs competing this year. But, because of some difficulties, first, second and third place were very clear to us. I'm sorry to say that third place is the New Directions."

Kurt's shock was obvious in the way he pressed a hand to his lips and shook his head. Puck and Finn were very quiet on either side of him, and then Finn stroked Blaine's gelled hair. "Are you okay?"

Blaine's eyes filled and he blinked away the tears, "No."

"Blaine, we'll be alright." Puck rubbed his back and pulled him in for a hug, but Blaine jerked away.

"I have to find Kurt," he mumbled, and pushed out of his group. He ran off the stage.

* * *

Blaine laid his cheek on Kurt's chest and sniffled. Kurt wiped his eyes with another tissue, "Shh… Blaine… I thought your performance was excellent. You were wonderful… just a little nervous."

Another round of tears rolled down his cheeks, "Why am I not good enough? I'm the only person who screwed up."

Kurt slid his leg through Blaine's, "You didn't give up. It takes courage to go back on stage."

Blaine buried his face in Kurt's chest, "Maybe I shouldn't have. I just… wanted this so badly. You're the only thing that's ever worked out for me, Kurt, and I don't know why. You should have left me a long time ago."

"Don't say that!" Kurt turned Blaine's chin so he could meet his weepy eyes, "Why would you say such a terrible thing? I love you, Blaine. You're going to be my husband."

"But I shouldn't be, dammit!" Blaine turned his head as if he'd been slapped. "I'm just like him, Kurt! I'm like Karofsky… and you're terrified of him. I have just as bad of a temper and I've hurt people and I—"

"I'm not scared of you." Kurt cupped Blaine's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him, "I'm not scared of you because you're you. You're Blaine. You're nothing like him. You do have a temper and you have hurt people, but you've regretted it. You've said you're sorry. That's something Karofsky would never do. And he would never love… but you love me." Sliding his fingers through Blaine's, Kurt squeezed his hand, "These are your hands." He rubbed Blaine's shoulder, "And that's your shoulder." He ran his fingers down to Blaine's chest, "And this is your heart. It's not his. He tried to control you… make you his… but you were strong enough to leave him."

Blaine shook his head, "I left him because of you."

Kurt smiled and pressed his lips to Blaine's, "You are mine now, but I think you're a wonderful man. I won't try to change you. I love you exactly as you are, even with your temper. You do look very… hot… when you're angry."

For the first time in hours, Blaine laughed. "I'm a spoiled man to have you, Kurt."

Laying his cheek on the pillow, Kurt pressed his face to Blaine's, "I'm very spoiled, too. You are amazing, Blaine, just for being you."

Blaine rolled on top of Kurt and took his mouth.


	58. Inevitable

Author's note: Prom chapter! This is the most awkward prom ever -.- buuut what you will see in this chapter is Blaine showing off his inner Edward Cullen, Kurt, Blaine, and Finn's game, more of the bird purse, Blaine having (another) meltdown, Santana's surprise, and Blaine and Kurt slow dancing and kissing under a disco ball. The song Blaine and Kurt dance to was suggested by my lovely Beta, and it's not a Glee song (even though I usually use those). It's called Inevitable by Anberlin. Everyone should look it up because it's all the loveliness in the world. Also, when Blaine freaks out about being voted prom queen, he's not being negative toward transgender men. He identifies as a man and doesn't want to be called prom queen, but he is not transphobic (obviously). Thanks to my beautiful Beta for editing and giving ideas. Keegan hug!

Spoilers for the next chapter: Unless I change it at the last minute, there will be a car wreck. This car wreck will be intentional. One of the people involved will go to the hospital. Burt will make an important phone call. Blaine might cry. Kurt will sing to Blaine to calm him down. There will be no severe injuries.

P.S. I will try to write my next chapter tonight and get it up tomorrow :)

deshaunwalker: I won't say if Blaine goes or not but a lot of big things will happen to them when it's time for Kurt to go back that make Blaine want to go with him :)

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I have more Puck in this one! He steals Blaine's date but he's Puck so I guess it's okay? XD I loved writing Kurt in this one, especially when he plays that game with Finn and Blaine. Kurt is so precious c: Blaine isn't as fluffy but he does have kluddles with Kurt when he's not freaking out! So yaaay kluddles! :D I felt bad for doing that to Blaine in my last chapter but I wanted to show that he needs his Kurtsie :) Thanks, I think you're cute too :)

* * *

"It's finally prom night, Blaine Anderson!" Kurt sprang from the bathroom and jumped into Blaine's arms, squealing with happiness, "We can dance in each other's arms and kiss under the disco ball. It's so romantic. Remember when we went to homecoming together?"

Blaine wrapped his hand around Kurt's waist and pulled him close, twirling him under his arm. When Kurt finished spinning, Blaine snuck a quick kiss. "You want to dance with me tonight? Any song is yours." Holding Kurt to his chest, Blaine sighed and rubbed his nose against Kurt's, "You look amazing, sweetheart. You're so beautiful."

"My dress matches your eyes," Kurt blushed and wrinkled handfuls of dress in his palms, admiring the dark honey shade and the ruffles flirting with his skin with every twitch of his legs. "It was an excellent choice… I'm so glad I picked this one."

"Mm hm," Blaine kissed Kurt again, inhaling the sweet, addicting scent of his cherry perfume. "Everything about you… so perfect."

"You've taken a liking to my perfume," Kurt giggled and pushed Blaine's chest. "It's flattering how you can't take your eyes… or nose… off of me."

Blaine bit Kurt's neck, and Kurt sighed and went weak in his arms. Suddenly, someone interrupted them by clearing his throat, "Expressing your inner Edward, Blaine?"

Rolling his eyes at his brother, Blaine groaned.

Coop came in and patted Kurt's shoulder, "You're much prettier than Bella."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled and flushed again, pleased with the compliments.

Coop waved a camera at them and held it up to his eye, "Come on, first prom night picture! Blaine, I want a smile. Don't glare at me."

Heaving a sigh of fake annoyance, Blaine pulled Kurt against him and hugged him tight. He smiled as Kurt looped his arms around his shoulders. Kurt worked the camera effortlessly, posing and popping his hips side to side. Blaine loved watching him.

"These look great," Coop said after he'd taken a few shots.

Kurt scurried to Coop's side to admire his pictures and he cooed happily, "Oh, these are perfect. Blaine, you look gorgeous."

Blaine tugged his bowtie, "Thank you."

Coop turned away from Kurt and checked the watch on his wrist, "You guys should get going. It's almost eight." Swinging his arm around Blaine's shoulders, Coop fixed a hair that had jumped from his gel. "Have fun tonight, kiddo. You, too, Kurt." He pressed a kiss to Blaine's forehead. "I love you both."

"Bye, Cooper!" Kurt chirped after him. He looked over his shoulder at Blaine and smiled, "He's very nice. You are like him in that way."

"I'm nice?"

"Mm hm." He tugged from Blaine's arms and went to get his bird purse, zipping Pavarotti and Everett up. Their tiny heads popped out of the holes on either side. "Do I look okay, Blaine? No wrinkles in my dress? My eyeliner hasn't smeared, has it?"

"No… honey…" Blaine shook his head, "you're sexy. I… I want to give you something, though. I bought it when you were trying on dresses in the changing room…" Blaine rubbed his forehead and cleared his throat, "when I wasn't in there with you."

"I love your gifts!" Kurt's eyes shimmered with delight, "Oh, what is it?"

Fishing through his back pocket, Blaine reached past his keys and their tickets to get in, and he closed his fingers around a small box. He thumbed it open and showed Kurt a golden rose with the tips of its petals dyed a dark red. "Come here."

Kurt did as he was told, touching the flower when he got near. Blaine took the flower from the box and weaved it into Kurt's coif. "You're stunning," he told Kurt, nudging him toward a mirror. "Do you like it, baby?"

Kurt pinched one of the petals, "I love it! Thank you so much. You're the best fiancé ever." Tossing himself into Blaine's arms, Kurt giggled happily.

Someone knocked on the door, distracting them from each other. Kurt poked his nose over Blaine's shoulder, "Hello, Finn!"

Finn arched his brows, "Hey, Kurt. Nice dress." Clearing his throat, he focused on Blaine, "My mom wants to take pictures before we go but she lost her camera. It might take her a while to find it. I'm going to finish my level… You guys can—"

"What level?" Kurt blinked.

"Um… for my video game." When Kurt's confused expression didn't change, Finn snorted, "You've never heard of a video game?"

Kurt tapped his chin, "No… but I do like games!"

Finn's eyes snapped to Blaine's emotionless face, "Uh… do you guys want to play? It's called Mario Kart, Kurt. It's… like a racing game."

"Oh, it sounds fun!" Kurt hopped and clapped his hands. "Come, Blaine!" He linked their fingers and pulled Blaine toward the door.

Blaine guided Kurt down the stairs so he didn't stumble, then he opened Finn's door. The sour odor of spoiled milk caused his eyes to water. He covered both his nose and Kurt's with his hands. "Finn, what is that?"

Finn walked by them as if he didn't notice it, "Probably my cereal from yesterday." He plopped onto one of the bean bags in front of the TV and gestured to the others.

Kurt knelt by the bean bag in the middle, looking at it as if he didn't know how to sit on it. Scooting onto it, Kurt squeaked when he sank in. Finn laughed at him, "Spread your legs. It's easier to keep your balance."

Awkwardly spreading his knees, Kurt arranged his skirts to hide his legs. "This is a very lumpy seat." Kurt lifted his butt then sat again, making a surprised sound when he sank again.

Blaine threw himself down on the bag beside of Kurt's, reaching in front of his fiancé, who was still trying to figure out the bean bags, when Finn handed him a controller. Finn gave one to Kurt, "Okay… that right there is to shoot. You steer with this. And that's to make your car move."

Kurt tried the buttons out.

Finn flipped the TV on and he switched his game to three players. He picked Luigi for his character, then told Kurt to choose. "Bowser is one of the best. He's strong and comes with great weapons. He's a little slow but Blaine and I will go easy on you."

Kurt pointed at the screen, "I want the princess! Her dress is so sparkly!"

"But she's a weak character." Finn argued, "She doesn't win anything."

"Finn, it's alright." Blaine hit a button on Kurt's controller to select Princess Peach. After picking Mario for himself, Blaine searched through the settings, "Where do you want to race, baby? The princess's castle?"

"Yes!" Kurt tried to clap again, but cut himself off when the controller hit his palm. "Ouch!" Blaine brought Kurt's hand to his face and kissed the red spot, and Kurt cooed and curled his fingers around Blaine's, "You made it feel much better."

Blaine smiled on Kurt's soft skin, then glanced at the screen when the castle popped up and a green light flashed. Finn's character blasted off with a speed boost. Kurt clicked a button, flailing his fingers when the princess started backing up. "Finn! Why am I going the wrong way?"

"Huh?" Finn was too into his own character winning to bother.

Reaching for Kurt's controller, Blaine pressed the correct button. "There, sweetheart. That one is to go forward."

"Oh!" Kurt pushed on it and squealed as his character rolled out of the starting point.

Blaine gave up on his character and watched Kurt, flicking his eyes between him and the princess on the screen. Kurt stuck his tongue out in concentration, his eyes huge and lips parted. When he ran into a wall, he panicked again, "Blaine!"

He couldn't help but be smug that Kurt wanted him instead of Finn now.

Half scrambling off his bean bag as if being closer to the TV would help him, Kurt frantically flipped switches and pressed buttons. Most of the time he was falling off the track or driving backwards, but Blaine thought it was adorable how hard he was trying.

After three laps, Kurt's character zoomed across the finish line. He immediately dropped his controller and squeezed Blaine's arm, "Did I win?"

Blaine glanced at Finn, who had finished about a minute before Kurt, and Finn nodded. Grinning, Blaine smoothed Kurt's ruffled hair, "Yes."

"Yay!" Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. "That was so much fun! Thank you for letting me play, Finn."

"No problem, little bro." Finn got to his feet and stretched, "I'm going to check on my mom."

Blaine stood and bent to collect Kurt, then followed Finn into the living room. Finn went to the kitchen, and Blaine could hear him talking to someone. After a moment, Carole pushed through the door, "Good news! My camera was in my purse!" She looked Kurt and Blaine up and down, "Oh, Kurt, you are so beautiful! Burt, come look at him. Isn't he just breathtaking?"

Kurt smiled and spun in a circle, "The flower is from Blaine. Isn't it pretty?"

Burt struggled from his chair and clapped Blaine on the shoulder as he passed them, "You look handsome, Blaine. Kurt… you always look good."

"Finn, I want a picture with you, Kurt, and Blaine. Get over here." Carole lifted her camera and snapped a few of the three of them. "Finn, put your arm around Kurt. I want you and your brother in one, and then I'll get you and Blaine. I want a couple of Blaine and Kurt, too."

Kurt put his hands on his brother's shoulders and smiled at the camera. Halfway through the photo shoot his gaze wandered to Blaine's face. Wrinkling his nose, Kurt held his hand out for Blaine, and Blaine returned to Kurt. He wrapped his arms around him from behind, squeezing him to his chest.

Finn and Blaine put their arms around each other for the last few pictures, and Kurt watched them from his place beside Carole. Giving Blaine pretty smiles and poses he could try, Kurt laughed when Blaine put his hands on his face and jutted his hips to the side.

"Blaine, you look silly!" Kurt squeaked, patting his fingertips because his palm was still too tender to clap.

Blaine threw his head back with a noisy laugh, startling everyone—except Kurt—in the room. Carole put her camera down, "Blaine, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that before."

"I don't think I've heard him laugh." Burt grumbled, crossing his arms.

Blaine shut his mouth and pursed his lips. Finn rubbed his back, "Dude… calm down. You're not going to be punished for laughing. I like your laugh."

Rubbing a sore spot onto his cheek with his knuckles, Blaine shrank away from the rest of them. Carole clicked her tongue and shook her head, "Honestly, Blaine, you act like you'll be beaten if you're happy. Honey, whatever it is that's scaring you… it's gone now. You're safe here. You can smile and laugh all you want."

Blaine stared at Kurt for his comfort, and Kurt quickly turned to Carole. "Blaine is loved here." It was obvious that he said it as a statement, but there was a hint of a question in it to make Carole say yes or no.

"Absolutely, sweetheart." Carole patted Kurt's hand. "Blaine is as loved as you are."

Kurt smiled and returned his attention to Blaine, "You're okay."

That was all the encouragement Blaine needed, and he let the tiniest of smiles fidget onto his lips.

* * *

_"Blaine! What are you doing?"_ Karofsky paced up to him and stopped right by his hip, putting one of his massive hands on his shoulder. _"Why are you staring at Finn Hudson?"_

_"I wasn't staring."_ Blaine argued, crossing his arms. _"I want to ask him to spend the night at my house… I just don't know how. It's been a while since…"_ He stopped talking and cleared his throat.

Karofsky's lip curled, _"Why would you want to hang out with him? He obviously doesn't like you. Just let him go. You have me now."_

Blaine rolled his eyes, _"He hasn't told me he doesn't like me."_

_"Would I lie to you, Blaine?" _Karofsky's grip tightened. _"I'm telling you… don't bother with him. Why are you still trying? You look pathetic. You're not desperate because you have me."_

Furrowing his brows, Blaine stepped away from Karofsky, keeping his distance, _"He was my best friend. He made me happy. Why are you acting so jealous?"_

Karofsky hit the side of Blaine's head, _"Shut up, Blaine. I'm warning you, if you get involved with him he'll only hurt you. I won't hurt you. I'll make you happy."_

* * *

Blaine yanked his bowtie and followed Kurt and Finn inside, his wide eyes flicking from the people dancing to the food bar to the disco ball. Bright lights highlighted the dark room, flashing from pink to blue to green. Overwhelmed by the chaos, Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrist and hid behind him.

Kurt wiggled his butt, "Oh, this is so exciting! I love this song!"

Finn wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders, nodding at someone across the room. Puck pushed his way through a group of people and threw his arms apart, "Isn't this awesome? I already spiked the punch. Now we just watch and wait for someone to get totally wasted."

Slugging Puck's arm, Finn laughed, "You're ridiculous."

"Neither of us have dates. We have to amuse ourselves with something, otherwise this prom would totally suck." Puck rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, then pinched Kurt's cheek, "I'll just have to dance with this cutie when I get bored with the punch."

Kurt smiled, "I want to dance! But I promised Blaine the slow songs."

Puck stole Kurt away from Blaine, "Then I get this song. We'll see you dateless losers later." Spinning Kurt under his arm, Puck bounced away with him.

Finn narrowed his eyes at the spot where Kurt once stood, "Kurt knows what spiking the punch means? He won't let Puck get him drunk?"

Blaine was quiet. He didn't know if Kurt knew what that meant. Sighing, Finn shook his head, "If he gets my little brother drunk I'm killing him." When Blaine didn't respond to that, Finn put his hand on his back and rubbed, "Are you okay? I was kidding… he won't get Kurt drunk… He might be impulsive and an idiot, but he's not stupid."

"It's not that." Blaine backed into a wall, still eyeing the wildly dancing kids, "It's that… I'm not much of a partier. And… last time…"

"You mean homecoming?" Finn leaned against the wall with Blaine, "Blaine, that was months ago. Sure, this school still has assholes… but things are different. People have lost interest in you… sorry, that sounded mean. But you get what I'm trying to say."

Blaine crossed his arms, "You didn't go through it. I was scared, Finn. I'm still scared. I can't forget that… not like Kurt did."

"That's because you're forcing yourself not to forget." Finn muttered. "And I went through something like that… not as badly. But when I joined the glee club all I got was shit from the guys. It sucked but I got over it and they lost interest in me, too." Blaine's jaw hardened but he didn't reply, so Finn brushed their shoulders, "I've got your back this time. So does Puck. We won't let anything happen to you. Try to have a good time… or fake it for Kurt."

Blaine finally looked at Finn. His face was emotionless and Finn couldn't tell what he was thinking, but at least he seemed to be considering it. Without a word, he peeled himself off the wall. "My throat is dry… I'm going to get a drink."

Putting a hand on his hip, Blaine left Finn and wandered in the direction of the food bar. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Kurt squealing, and he spotted Puck trying to moonwalk. Kurt laughed at him and clapped his hands.

He started to walk over there to take Kurt back, but before he could take a step he felt someone pat his shoulder. Flinching, Blaine looked over his shoulder and arched his brows at the sight of Santana. "What are you doing here?"

Santana put a hand on her hip, "Partying so I don't have to worry about my pregnant girlfriend or the psychopath who knocked her up." She shrugged nonchalantly, then glanced in the direction of Kurt and Puck, "This is the most normal I've felt in a long time, Blaine. Don't ruin it."

"Fine," Blaine furrowed his brows. "I wasn't going to stop you. What do you want?"

The sneer on her face faltered for a brief moment, "I… miss you, Blaine. That's why I came here… to apologize…" she struggled with that, then mumbled, "for slapping you… and yelling at you. And for talking to the police. I should have asked you before doing something like that."

He shook his head, "You should have… but I can't blame you. We're both worried and neither of us knows what to do… how to stop him." He noticed they were getting a few glances, so he quieted and switched the subject, "Where is Brittany?"

"She's at the hospital again." Santana batted him off when he looked concerned. "She's fine… they're just running another test. She had contractions this morning… they weren't close and she's not that dilated, but it's a month early. I'm worried." She didn't let him respond to that. "How is your nephew?"

"He's fine." Blaine checked on Kurt again, but he and Puck were gone. "He's due any day now. The doctors say he's very healthy."

"Who's very healthy?" chirped a high pitched voice, and Blaine glimpsed over his shoulder at Kurt. "Hi, Santana! Your dress is very pretty."

Santana touched her sleek, black dress, "Thanks. You look good, too." She focused on Blaine again, "I have to go."

Puck frowned, "But the party just started." His eyes slightly widened. "You don't want to see them crown prom king and queen?"

Santana wearily smiled and shook her head, "I have to get back to Brittany. I hate being away from her." She wrapped an arm around Kurt, "Have fun."

Blaine stood still when she moved against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Not saying a word to him, Santana peeled off his chest and turned away. She disappeared into the crowd. Puck went to Kurt's side and slung an arm around his shoulders again, "Man, she always seems so down. Bitchy Santana was better than this one."

"I would be sad if I was in her place." Kurt whispered, then looked at Blaine and reached for his hand.

Blaine weakly smiled and squeezed Kurt's palm, "I love you, sweetheart."

They were interrupted by the screeching of a microphone. Kurt frowned and covered his ears, glancing up at the stage. One of the students on student council tapped the microphone, clearing his throat, "Five minutes until prom king and queen are announced. Make sure to get your votes in."

Blaine's face turned white and he took a step away from the stage. Puck immediately caught him and pulled him back into their group, "Oh no, you don't. Blaine, it's alright. We all know who's getting king and queen. Quinn and whoever her new boyfriend is."

"You and Quinn left each other?" Kurt asked quietly, his brows furrowing.

Puck shrugged, "We're on and off. She'll come back when she gets bored with her new fling."

Kurt looked absolutely shocked. "But don't you love her? You must get so jealous of the other men."

That dragged a smile to Puck's lips, and he messed Kurt's hair, "That's sweet, cutie, but not all relationships work like yours and Blaine's." He looked past Kurt, "Finn, I think they've counted the ballots."

Finn nodded and grabbed Blaine's shoulder.

Principal Figgins walked up the stairs and grabbed the microphone, "Quiet down, students." Tearing open the ballot card, Figgins raised his eyebrows at the results, "Can I see Mr. Hummel on the stage?"

Everyone looked at Kurt. Finn patted his brother on the back and smiled, "Go get them, little bro."

"I won?" Kurt squeaked, wrinkling his dress in his fists again. "Oh, I'm so happy!" Before going to the stage, he spun around and threw himself into Blaine's arms. "Blaine, isn't this amazing?"

Blaine's fingers were curling and uncurling, but he kissed Kurt anyway. "I'm proud of you."

Kurt ran off to accept his crown, but Blaine stayed behind with Finn and Puck. Blaine's eyes flicked from person to person, looking for the hidden Slushies. Before he could find any, Puck whacked his shoulder, "Blaine, get on stage."

Blaine barely distracted himself from his search, "What?"

Finn shoved him toward the stage, "Go. Figgins said your name."

Startled, Blaine froze when he realized that almost everyone in the room was staring at him. "What?" His eyes darted to the stage and he spotted Kurt standing beside of Figgins, who was also watching him.

"Mr. Anderson." Figgins said one more time, tapping the microphone as if that would somehow speed up his walk to the stage. "Come accept your crown."

Blaine returned his attention to the crowd around him, then to Finn and Puck. "No." was all he said, and he tried to break from Finn's grip. "No!"

Puck grabbed him from his front so he was smashed between them, "Blaine! Blaine, don't panic! It's alright!"

Shoving Puck hard enough to push him away, Blaine shouted, "Let go, Finn!"

"No!" Finn tightened his grip. "Blaine, stop!"

"They're mocking me!" Blaine punched Finn's stomach, but he wouldn't loosen his arms, "I'm prom queen because I'm gay? Get Kurt off the stage! They'll hurt him!"

"You're not prom queen!" Finn almost shouted, shaking Blaine until he slumped over. "Blaine, it's okay. You don't have to be afraid. _I_ did this. Puck did it. It was Santana's idea, but we thought you deserved it. We got a bunch of people to vote for you and Kurt as prom kings." When Blaine didn't respond to that, Finn started to unwrap his arms, "If I let you go, you won't freak out again?"

Blaine didn't answer to that, either. Finn dropped his hands and let Blaine catch his breath, then he rubbed his back, "I promise you… I won't let them do anything bad to you."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at the stage, his jaw hardening. Kurt still stood beside of Figgins, but his eyes were wider and wet with tears. Finn kept on Blaine's heels as he moved toward the stage, shoulders stiff and back straight.

When they got to the stairs, Finn stopped and pushed Blaine onto the first one. Kurt left his spot to help Blaine, holding his hands out for Blaine. He smiled encouragingly, "It's not so bad up here, Blaine."

Blaine hesitantly wrapped his hands around Kurt's. He swallowed several times and followed Kurt to the middle of the stage. Stopping beside of him, Blaine slid his fingers through Kurt's and gaped at the people below him. He felt so exposed and wanted to hide. They must have realized he remembered what they'd put him through months ago because everyone was absolutely silent, waiting for him to pass out or run off the stage. Or maybe they were plotting something.

Blaine twitched to dart off the stage, but Kurt held onto him tightly. "You're okay." He smiled up at Blaine, snuggling into his side.

Figgins held two crowns out for them, "This year's Prom King and King… Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel."

The crowd hesitantly applauded them, one corner louder than the next, then everyone caught on. Someone whistled at them. Blaine thought it was Finn. Kurt picked the silver tiara, happily turning it this way and that and admiring the sparkling jewels. Blaine took the golden crown and clenched it in his fist.

Blaine jumped when the speakers screeched and the music started up again. The kids nearest the giant boxes groaned and moved away from them, causing Blaine to stumble backwards and push Kurt behind him. "Blaine," Kurt wrapped his arms around him, "it's okay. Don't be afraid. I'm here."

"I don't want you to be." Blaine's voice quivered. "They'll hurt us."

Kurt hummed and pressed a kiss to Blaine's back, "Blaine, look. People are smiling at you. Take my hand." Squeezing Blaine's fingers, Kurt took his crown and set it on his head. "My handsome king."

Giggling, Kurt started off the stage with Blaine on his heels. He waved at his onlookers, happily showing off under the attention. Kurt paused in the middle of the dance floor and turned to Blaine. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Blaine didn't answer, but he pulled Kurt to his chest. Kurt swished his hips, laying his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "Hold me tighter."

Tightening his grip, Blaine shuffled his feet. He kept his eyes on the kids around him, but many of them weren't paying attention anymore. "Blaine…" whispered a soft voice in his ear, and his eyes snapped back to Kurt's face. Kurt bit his bottom lip, "I'll keep you safe."

Kurt pressed his forehead to Blaine's and cupped his face in his hands. Closing his eyes, Blaine let his shoulders drop. He moved them in a circle, their toes brushing with every close step they took.

Sighing, Kurt lifted his head then snuggled under Blaine's chin. He rested his cheek on Blaine's chest, perfectly content. Peeking up at Blaine's face, Kurt ran his hand over his chest, "Blaine."

Blaine looked at Kurt's small face, his round eyes so gentle and compassionate. It made Blaine feel safe. Tearing his focus from the crowd, Blaine managed a smile at Kurt and he slipped his tiara from his hand. He put it on Kurt's head and smoothed his hair, "You're lovely." Kissing Kurt's forehead, Blaine frowned on his soft skin, "Kurt? I'm sorry… I haven't been the perfect prom date. I've been moody and I haven't danced with you and… I couldn't even get up on stage because of…"

Shaking his head, Kurt hushed him. "You did get on stage, Blaine, and that was very brave of you." He tilted his head, "And I've had fun." When Blaine's brows furrowed, Kurt grinned enthusiastically, "Just being with you makes me so happy. And we have the rest of the night to dance. This is a pretty song… dance with me to this one."

Blaine tuned in to the song playing and he didn't recognize it, but he liked the soft music and sweet lyrics. "We could stay in this moment." He whispered when he caught on to the words, hugging Kurt.

Kurt smiled and wiggled his butt again, squeaking when Blaine dipped him until his nose was pointed at the disco ball spinning above them. Blaine put his face just centimeters from Kurt's, their lashes tangling with every blink. "I want to be your last first kiss."

Kurt blushed and giggled. Blaine pressed their lips and suckled Kurt's bottom lip, "I love you."

Laying his lashes on his cheeks, Kurt whimpered as Blaine nibbled his neck, "I love you, too."


	59. I Want to Hold Your Hand

Author's note: I wrote this in one night so it might really suck :( but I hope you guys like it! Thanks to my amazing Beta for all the help! This chapter focuses a lot on Kurt (I know, the focus is usually on Blaine so this is different :P), mostly on his childhood. Elizabeth is spoken about. This will be Karofsky's last appearance in this story, so yaaay! So, I said that Kurt would be the one singing to Blaine and that Blaine would cry, but I changed it at the last minute. Blaine doesn't cry and he's the one singing.

Spoilers for the next chapter: Graduation! As I've said, the chapter will probably be set at the school, a hospital, an alleyway, and the Hummel-Anderson-Hudson household. Cooper, Alicia, Santana, and Brittany will be major in that chapter. Two new characters will be introduced. These new characters will be precious. I love them so much.

nicki valentine: I'd never heard of Anberlin before that chapter. My Beta mentioned it to me (she got it off of this anime remix thing) and I loved it! I'm glad you liked it as much as I did :)

deshaunwalker: The song is actually by a band called Anberlin :) You should look it up! It's amazing! I'll have to look up this One Direction song :) I have no idea what I'm doing with Puck's sexuality yet, but your comment about him made me laugh :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Of course I'll read it! I'm excited to! I don't actually ship anyone besides Kurt and Blaine but I'd love to read some of your work :) Good luck with your story!

P.S. I just found my story on Klaine Fics PDFs today and I was so excited! Once again, thanks to whoever suggested it! :D

* * *

"Blaine! Finn! Breakfast is ready!" Kurt stacked the rest of the pancakes on a plate and waved their sweet aroma to his nose. "Mm… Dad, you must have a pancake. They smell delicious."

Burt grunted from the kitchen table and set his newspaper down. "Go ahead and give me one. There's nothing quite as good as your cooking, Kurt."

Kurt giggled but was cut off by something slamming in Finn's bedroom. "You cheated! You pushed me!" There was another crash and noisy huffing and swearing. "Get off! You're crushing me!"

The door suddenly burst open and Blaine and Finn fell out, both of them smacking the floor. Finn yelped as Blaine wrestled him, getting him in a tight headlock. Burt pointed at them, "Guys, get up before you break something… probably each other."

Blaine pushed Finn down and struggled to his feet, brushing the front of his shirt off. "I didn't cheat," was all he said, and he went to Kurt's side. He grabbed Kurt's waist and ducked for a kiss, but Kurt swatted him.

Pinching his nose, Kurt whined, "You smell like a sweaty man!"

Blaine laughed and kissed his cheek, anyway, wrapping his arms around him. Finn walked past them and opened the fridge, "We were boxing on my Wii. He cheated and pushed me." Cracking open a pop can, Finn swigged it.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Men." Patting Blaine's chest to push him away, Kurt forked two pancakes onto another plate. He drenched them in strawberry syrup then handed the plate to Blaine. "Dad, where is Carole? And Cooper and Alicia? I planned a big breakfast for them, so you two—" he looked at Finn and Blaine, "—will have to eat the extra pancakes."

"I have no problem with that." Finn greedily licked his lips.

Burt checked his watch, "Carole left early. Busy day at work. I think Cooper said him and Alicia were going to look at cribs."

Kurt immediately left his spot at the counter and rushed out of the room, "I have to tell Alicia to buy a light pink one, then. Light pink is the new _in_ for babies. It's a very soothing and pretty color… I can see why it's so popular."

Finn frowned at the abandoned pancakes, then shrugged and went about making his own plate.

Blaine cut his pancakes and ate them slowly. He stopped chewing when he noticed Burt looking at him, "What?"

Burt folded his hands and put them behind his head, "I want to drive Kurt to school today."

Finn slapped his sixth pancake onto his plate, "Why? Kurt's the best thing about carpooling! I'd get bored without him." When Blaine frowned, Finn shrugged, "No offense, Blaine. You don't dance to every song that comes on the radio, though."

"It's just for today. Quit your complaining and eat a pancake." Burt returned his attention to Blaine. "I want to spend some time with my kid, that's all. I'm going to miss Kurt as much as you are when he goes back to France." Blaine's emotionless expression didn't change, so Burt made a gesture with his hand, "How about this? I'll call you when we get to the school and even walk him inside."

"He can't be left alone." Blaine muttered, taking another bite.

"I know that, Blaine. I'm not stupid." Burt crossed his arms. "Do we have a deal?"

Kurt returned with a phone tucked to his ear, chattering about a baby bib he thought was especially adorable. Noticing that the guys were staring at him, Kurt pursed his lips and quickly ended the conversation. "Is everything okay?"

"Your dad is going to drive you to school today." Blaine said. "I want you to call me when you get to the parking lot. I'll come get you."

"Okay," Kurt smiled, stealing Blaine's fork and taking a bite of his pancakes.

Blaine gave Kurt the rest of his breakfast and left the room. Walking back in with his and Kurt's bags slung over his shoulder, Blaine grabbed Finn's arm. "Get your stuff. I want to be at school before Kurt."

Going to Kurt, Blaine wrapped him in his arms and pressed their foreheads, "You'll be safe with your dad."

Kurt nodded, then glanced past Blaine when Finn stopped in the kitchen doorway. "Come on, Blaine."

Blaine pressed kisses to Kurt's mouth, "I'll see you in a bit, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too." Kurt tried to hold onto Blaine, but his fingers closed around nothing. Blaine followed Finn into the living room. Hurrying after them, Kurt murmured Blaine's name. Blaine glanced over his shoulder and smiled, then strode outside with Finn and shut the door behind himself.

Sighing, Kurt turned and went to sit with his dad at the table. "Did you want to talk to me?"

"I always want to talk to you." Burt chuckled, "You say the most amusing things. Can I not spend some time with you? It's like a crime around here to take you away from Blaine."

Kurt laughed at that, "You were the same way with Mom. I could tell when you missed her… you'd spend more time with me. You'd take me camping and toss footballs with me…"

"What do you mean, with you?" Burt snorted. "I'd throw the footballs right to you but you'd always scream and run from them. You remember when I took you fishing? I had to put blankets in the boat because you thought it was dirty, then you started crying when you saw that the bait was a container of worms. You made me row us all the way back and put the worms in the dirt."

Kurt covered his mouth to quiet his giggles.

"You know," Burt got up from his chair and rinsed his plate in the sink, "when your mom was pregnant, all I wanted was a son who played ball and got dirty. But I'm really glad I got you, honey. You've been a challenge, that's for sure, and you're expensive, but you've made me the happiest dad." Rubbing Kurt's shoulder when he finished scraping his plate, Burt pulled Kurt to his chest. "I'll drive you to school when you're ready."

"I need to get my purse." Kurt stood and wandered out of the room. "I'll be down in a minute!"

Rushing up the stairs, Kurt was greeted by his tiny birds, both of them prowling the hallway. Pavarotti wiggled at the sight of Kurt, hopping onto his foot. Everett waddled after Kurt. "I won't be home for a few hours, but graduation is in a week! Then your daddy and I will be able to spend every day with you two!"

Everett chirped.

Snatching his purse, Kurt slipped it onto his shoulder. He heard the phone ring downstairs, and then his dad's gruff voice. Sitting down on his bed, Kurt scooted Everett onto his finger and set him on his lap. He bent to collect Pavarotti, but Pavarotti was more interested in tugging his shoelace. "Oh, Pavarotti! I should buy more high heels. You steal all of my shoelaces."

He quickly tied his shoe and put Pavarotti on his bed, giving his birds kisses before he left. "Be good, my little birds. Don't try to eat my ribbons today."

He walked out of his room and down the stairs, "I'm ready to go. I'm sorry I took longer than I thought… Pavarotti untied my shoe."

Burt stuck his head out of the kitchen, "Honey, I have bad news. Carole's car broke down on the side of the road."

"Is she okay?" Kurt put a hand over his mouth.

"Yeah… she's fine. I have to go on the other side of town to check the car out, though." Burt punched something into his phone, "I'll call Blaine and tell him to come back."

"Oh, don't trouble him!" Kurt squeaked, "I'll be fine driving myself. The school is only a block away."

"Kurt." Burt said in a warning tone, "I don't want you alone, and neither does Blaine."

"But I'll be okay." Kurt assured him, "Dad, I'll be driving. Karofsky can't sneak into my car."

Burt winced at the use of his name, "Kurt, I just… I don't know, honey. I'd feel better if I knew you were absolutely safe. And Blaine would lose his mind if he knew I let you go alone."

"Dad, please… go help Carole." Smiling as if that would help him, Kurt pulled his phone from his purse. "I have my phone. I'll call Blaine if I think anything is wrong. It's only ten minutes."

Physically struggling with that, Burt groaned and stuffed his phone in his pocket, "Fine. But, Kurt, you have to be careful. As soon as you get to the parking lot, call Blaine. Don't get out of the car, lock your doors… I'll get you pepper spray."

"I'll be fine!" Kurt said for the last time, "Dad, I don't want pepper spray. Now go. You're making Carole wait."

Burt rolled his eyes and pulled his son into his arms, "I love you, kid. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Kurt smiled, "I love you, Dad. But the men in this family worry too much about me."

"Try convincing Blaine of that." Chuckling, Burt let go of Kurt and nudged him toward the door. "Get going, baby. You know how Blaine is about being patient." Kurt went to the door and twisted the knob, but Burt stopped him, "Hon, are you sure you don't want pepper spray? I'll get you a can."

Laughing, Kurt turned away, "I don't need pepper spray, I promise. Bye, Dad." Pushing open the door, Kurt stepped onto the hard pavement of the walkway.

He hummed a quiet tune as he opened his car door and scooted onto the seat. Closing the door behind himself, Kurt put his purse beside his leg and turned the car on. He pushed a button for the radio and flipped through the stations.

Nothing but commercials were on so he looked through his CDs. Choosing Beyoncé, Kurt took the CD out but it slipped from between his fingers and rolled under his seat. "Oh!" He bent over and searched for the CD, spying it under one of the floor mats.

He reached for it and grabbed it, but dropped it again when something nearby slammed. "Kurt!" Someone shouted, and he glanced up. His dad was running out of the house and gesturing harshly at him. "Get out of the car _now!_"

Confused, Kurt hesitantly did as his dad said and started to open his door. "Dad, what's wrong?"

Burt suddenly froze and whipped around, his jaw dropping. Kurt glimpsed in the direction he was staring and screamed when he saw a black truck speeding down the road, heading straight toward him. Covering his face, Kurt shrieked as the truck smashed into his car.

There was a crunching sound of metal and the cracking of glass. Hearing his own heart beating, Kurt peeked between his shaking fingers. A truck was very close to his, the hood of it crunched.

In the driver's seat was a terrible looking man, his forehead bashed and his lips puffy and bloody. He struggled to open his door and almost fell out, and then he ran. A trail of blood followed him.

Trembling, Kurt touched his face again and felt wetness. He pulled one hand away and squeaked at the sight of smeared blood. Suddenly, Burt almost ripped the door off its hinges and slid his arms under Kurt's thighs. "Dad—" Kurt hiccupped.

"I know, honey. I know." Burt lifted Kurt from the ruined seat and cradled him against his chest. "I've got you. Put your arms around my neck. I'll get you to the hospital."

Kurt closed his eyes and buried his face in his dad's shirt, "Blaine… please… call Blaine."

"I'll get Blaine," Burt assured him, putting Kurt in his own car. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll call Blaine."

Burt got in on the driver's side and turned the key, backing out of the driveway. He rubbed Kurt's knee, "You'll be fine, honey. I think you just got cut from the glass."

Kurt was so scared. He wanted Blaine to hold him.

* * *

Blaine leaned against the lockers, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're almost done here." He muttered, "We're graduating in a week."

Puck grinned and scuffed the floors with the tip of his shoe, "I hate to say it but high school wasn't too bad. I got through it with two of the best friends ever."

Swinging his arms around Blaine and Puck, Finn started walking down the hall, "I don't know what we'll do after graduation. We have to stay together. I'm going to an acting school near Westerville but I want to live at home. What about you, Puck?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "I was thinking about heading west… but leaving Lima seems like I'd be leaving my whole life behind. Have you decided on your plans, Blaine? Are you going to France or not?"

"I—" Blaine started to go through the same old excuses, but he shut his mouth when his phone buzzed. "Hold on… That's Kurt." He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it to his ear, pushing Puck away when he moved closer to hear what Kurt said. "Where are you, sweetheart?"

"Blaine?" Burt's voice was breathy, and Blaine could hear a woman's voice in the background. "Come to the hospital. It's Kurt… he's hurt."

Blaine almost dropped his phone, and Finn furrowed his brows, "Blaine, what is it?"

"Karofsky. He hurt Kurt." Blaine whispered, then burst into a ground eating sprint.

* * *

Blaine shoved through the hospital doors and tore up the stairs with the guys right on his heels. "Blaine! You can't run in here!" Finn hollered, snatching the back of his shirt.

Ignoring him, Blaine scanned for the door Burt had told him to go to, and when he found it he slammed into it. "Kurt!"

It was very quiet inside, other than the shuffling of a nurse. Burt sat in one of the chairs against the wall, his head in his hands and his shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted. On the bed was Kurt, tucked under a thin sheet. "Sweetheart…" Blaine choked and rushed to Kurt's side, gathering him in his arms. "How do you feel? Baby…"

Kurt squeaked, "I'm okay. It's just a little scratch." He touched the bandage on his forehead. "See? I'm fine."

"I don't care what it is." Blaine moaned and flopped beside Kurt, wrapping his arms around him. "This shouldn't have happened. I thought you'd be safe. I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault." Kurt shook his head.

"You scared us, Kurt." Puck sat at the end of the bed, "When Blaine told us you were hurt…" Sighing, he rubbed his nape, then glanced at Burt, "What happened? How did Karofsky get to Kurt if you were with him?"

"I wasn't with him…" Burt muttered lowly, avoiding Blaine's wide eyes. "I got a call from Carole… she said her car broke down, so I was going to fix it. I told Kurt he could drive alone as long as he was careful… Karofsky came speeding down the road and smashed his truck into Kurt's car."

Blaine closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he collapsed on Kurt's chest and squeezed him, "I can't lose you."

"I'm okay." Kurt said again, stroking Blaine's hair.

"What happened to Karofsky?" Finn sat in the chair next to Burt's. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know." Burt shrugged, "All I was worried about was getting Kurt to the hospital. I wasn't looking for Karofsky. Authorities have been checking things out and they said he must have run off. They should be tracking him."

"If he ever comes near my little brother again…" Finn curled his fists.

"Mr. Hummel?" the nurse quietly spoke up. "Visiting hours are almost over. Anyone who isn't family has to leave."

Burt grunted, "Well, these three are all family. I want you guys to keep your mouths shut, though. Kurt needs his rest."

"Mm hm…" Kurt snuggled into his pillows. "I feel a little tired. I think I'll take a nap." He stroked Blaine's hair, "Don't move." Holding Blaine to his chest, Kurt laid his lashes on his cheeks. After a few minutes, his face softened and his breathing was deeper.

Blaine rolled onto his other side and rested his cheek on Kurt's stomach, pressing kisses through the blanket. Finn stood and cleared his throat, "Puck, you want to go get coffee?"

Puck and Finn left. After a moment of keeping quiet so he didn't have to face Blaine—who also wanted to be silent—Burt sighed, "I'm sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean to let this happen."

Blaine didn't say a word, and his emotionless face didn't give Burt any indications of whether he was forgiven or not.

Folding his hands, Burt slumped in his chair, "I'm really glad nothing happened to him… other than the scratch." He cleared his throat and scratched his neck, "I lost Elizabeth in a car wreck."

Blaine flicked his eyes to Burt's face. Burt stared at his sleeping son, "It was snowy… She was driving home from rehearsals. A drunken man lost control of his car. He died on impact. His car burst into flames and flipped over… I don't know, fifty times? They said the body was almost unidentifiable. Elizabeth's car skidded into a rail. Almost every bone on the left side of her body was broken. They said she screamed and cried… but when they put her on medicine at the hospital she got enough of her voice back to beg them to tell me and Kurt that she loved us… that she wanted me to keep being a good dad to Kurt. She died when she went to sleep… I've never told Kurt any of that."

Blaine blinked, "Why are you telling me?"

Burt rubbed his face, "For a long time after she died, Kurt wouldn't smile. He wanted me to sing him this song… I Want to Hold Your Hand… every night. His mom used to… she'd bring him a glass of warm milk, talk about his day with him, and then she'd sing to him. The first time he smiled was when he put on a tape of her singing that song and he sang along with her."

Getting to his feet, Burt shrugged. "I guess I just want you to know that I want Kurt to end up with a man who will protect him. Won't let things like this happen. I did… and there's never been a day that I haven't regretted it… that I don't miss her. If I'd just gone with her… not settled for Ohio because I felt like I wouldn't fit in…" He raised his eyebrows as he pulled his jacket on. Blaine uncomfortably cleared his throat.

Burt hobbled over to Kurt's bed and smoothed his son's hair, then glanced at Blaine again. Blaine finally opened his mouth, "I'm sorry." was all he said.

Burt shrugged again, "Me, too." He bent to kiss Blaine's forehead, then shuffled out of the room.

Sighing, Blaine ran a hand over his hair and laid his cheek on the pillow. Sliding his fingers through Kurt's, Blaine hummed softly, "Yeah… I want to hold your hand. Oh, please, say to me… you'll let me be your man… and please, say to me… you'll let me hold your hand…" He nuzzled Kurt's cheek with his nose, "And when I touch you… I feel happy inside. It's such a feeling that, my love, I can't hide…"

A sweet smile curved Kurt's lips and he cuddled into Blaine.

Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek, "I want to hold your hand."


	60. Bittersweet

Author's note: Hi! Here's my graduation chapter! As I said, this might be my most important chapter so far and I haven't changed my mind about that :) Just so all of you know, Archer's teddy bear, Keegan, is a real teddy bear. He belongs to my Beta, who named him Keegan. I'm trying to get a picture of him on my profile but don't know how... so I'll keep working on that. I do have a picture of Archer's bear pajamas on my profile, though :) For those of you wondering about the babies, to me Archer looks like a male version of Snow White, and I don't know what kind of mental image I can give you about Hunter yet. I do have a picture of sort of what I think he'd look like as a teenager, so if you want to see that I can put it on my profile. Also, some of the stuff about Archer and Hunter might be unrealistic but that's just because I know nothing about babies/children. I'll do all the research I can but some of my scenes with them won't be exact.

Spoilers for next chapter: There will be a picnic. My two new characters will meet. That's about it... My next couple of chapters won't be that dramatic/major... just a lot of Blaine and Kurt caring for the baby.

prosen8966: Aww, I'm glad you liked it! The scariest thing ever is writing a Karofsky scene and then hearing a crack or bang outside... I've definitely scared myself doing that :D but luckily he won't be around anymore! I've wanted to do that song so badly (it's one of the prettiest songs by one of the prettiest people ever done on Glee) and I'm so glad it worked so well with that chapter!

deshaunwalker: I'm trying to make Burt a nice parent again :) Now that he's figuring Blaine out and he knows more about Karofsky, I can fit him in better with Kurt and Blaine. Plus I like giving Kurt nicknames... :D Maybe one day Karofsky will come to his senses... but for now he's still going to be stupid :P And yeah that was Karofsky. He's the only one who wants Kurt dead.

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I have cuteness for you in this one! :D I'm so excited about my new characters! You're doing really great with your story, by the way! I'm really surprised (and impressed) at how many chapters you've gotten up!

Klaine forever and ever 3: I hope you know that I spent about ten minutes laughing/crying at your review. There won't be any smut soon because of the new guest in their bedroom, but I will try to put it in somewhere. Just for you. I kinda want to see some Klaine choking, too XD

P.S. If you can figure out why the title of this chapter is Bittersweet (by Ellie Goulding), you get a chapter dedication :P

* * *

Blaine stared out the window at the billowing, red gowns floating past the car, a million seniors walking their parents inside and chatting about after-parties and plans for the future. He wanted to be like them, but he didn't have an idea about his future. Sighing, he scratched his nape and set his hand on the wheel, spinning the car into an open space. Burt pulled in beside of him and Carole was the first one out, scrambling toward Blaine's car and fanning her weepy face. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled when Finn noticed his mom's sobbing and slumped in his seat. Burt got out next and walked around the car, pulling open the trunk. He lifted a few red outfits and muttered something to Cooper, then handed the stack to him.

Finally popping his door, Blaine set his feet down and stood. Kurt scrambled from his seat and pranced to Blaine's side, hugging him tightly. He was so excited that his entire body was trembling. Blaine thought it was cute. "Finny!" Carole beckoned Finn from his hiding spot in Blaine's car, and Finn grumbled and got out, then smashed himself against the door. "Burt, which outfit is Finn's? Finn, put it on! I want pictures to remember your graduation!"

Blaine started to laugh at him, but Burt curled his index finger at him. "Come on, Blaine. You're not getting out of this. I know graduation outfits suck, but just… humor us."

Kurt squeaked and wiggled excitedly as he took his outfit, but Blaine growled and rolled his eyes. Shimmying into it as if the pile of cheap, baggy fabric was something to be proud of, Kurt popped his hips from side to side. "I don't look puffy, do I? I'll put on my bedazzled belt!"

"Kurt!" Carole squealed louder than Blaine thought humanly possible. "You look adorable! Finn, go stand next to your brother! Pictures!"

Laughing and hopping, Kurt posed as soon as a reluctant Finn wrapped his arm around him. Burt cocked a brow at the show, then shook his head and turned away. He immediately looked concerned, and Blaine followed his gaze to where Cooper was helping Alicia from the car. Alicia put her foot down and winced, biting her bottom lip. Burt crossed his arms, "Hon, are you alright?"

"Mm…" Alicia grabbed her swollen stomach and managed a nod, "yes. I'm just so cramped." She fanned her pale face, leaning on Coop for support. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Coop took her into his arms. "Carole, Alicia is feeling woozy. Can we head inside?"

Carole barely noticed he'd spoken, so intent on snapping pictures of Kurt and Finn. "Of course, sweetheart." She pointed at the three graduating, "I'll get more pictures inside, you count on that. Blaine, put your gown on before I smack you upside the head!"

Blaine glared at her, but she didn't seem bothered. He yanked his gown on without much affair.

As their group found a spot in the families going inside, Blaine moved up front to be with Kurt, who was skipping ahead of them. Kurt hummed to himself, squealing when he heard a tiny cheep from his purse. He unzipped the top and let his birds climb onto his hand. Blaine listened to him chatter to them, then distracted himself when their group got to the doors leading to the stage. "I'll take Kurt backstage."

Finn immediately pulled away from his mom, who was licking the tips of her fingers and fixing his hair. "I'll go with them. We'll see you guys in a little bit."

Carole's eyes blurred with tears, "My baby boy is already graduating! Finn, I'll admit that I never thought this day would come. I'm so proud of you."

Finn grumbled something that no one could hear. Blaine snorted again, and Finn slugged his arm. Burt pushed them away so he could hug his son, "I love you, kiddo. You go get your freaking diploma and then we're celebrating."

Kurt giggled, then let Burt past him to clap Blaine on the shoulder. "You're just like a son to me and I'm as proud of you as any father would be."

Blaine smiled, "Thanks, Burt." He glanced at his brother who pulled him into a tight hug.

"I love you, Blainey." Coop squeezed Blaine while Alicia stopped holding onto him and wrapped her arms around Kurt. She twitched again and made a muffled noise, so Coop quickly gathered her up and put his hand on her stomach.

Leaving their family, Blaine grabbed the back of Kurt's gown and tugged him against his chest. He led him down the hallway, stopping when they ran into a line of kids. Finn stood on his toes and squinted over the tops of heads. "I see a bunch of people with last names that start with _a_ up there. Blaine, you should go."

Blaine blew out heavily and turned to Kurt, clutching him in his arms, "You'll stand with Finn. Our names aren't that far apart. We won't be separated for long."

"Mm hm." Kurt closed his eyes when Blaine kissed his forehead.

"Finn, you have to stay near the stage after your name is called." Blaine told Finn, still holding Kurt. "Watch out for him. I don't know how close to the stage I'll be." Kissing Kurt on the mouth, Blaine cupped his small face. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Kurt chirped, his wide, blue eyes gazing into Blaine's golden eyes. "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

Kurt smiled and stroked his stubbly jaw. "Courage," was all he said, then he whirled around and took Finn's hand. The two of them walked away.

Blaine was about to go to the front of the line, but a hand on his arm stopped him. Glimpsing over his shoulder, he raised his brows at Santana. Brittany stood behind her, her eyes closed and her hand gripping her bulging stomach. "Santana… he says it hurts…"

Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Santana shrugged, "She thinks she has telepathic communication with the baby. I think it's just the medication the doctor gave her." She glanced past him, "Where is Kurt at?"

"He's with Finn." Blaine muttered, keeping his eyes on Brittany, who was swaying and shaking uncontrollably. "Santana, is she alright? She looks sick."

"This is the best she's felt in a while." Santana bit out. "Can we not talk about how sickly Brittany looks?"

Blaine put his guard up, "What do you want?"

Santana raised a brow and pulled him from the main group of people, dropping her voice to a whisper, "I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

She looked over both shoulders, then back at him, "I got a call last night… Karofsky's been arrested."

He stopped breathing, "What?"

"They found him a mile from your house." She ran a hand through her hair, "He's been watching you for a while now… waiting for you to leave Kurt alone." Seeing the stunned expression on his face, she shook her head. "That doesn't matter now. He'll be in prison for about a year and a half… It would be longer because of the…" she glanced around for onlookers again, "murder… but Karofsky's past records got messed up and they can't prove that he murdered that boy until they get an on-scene witness… or you could give them the tape."

"I'm not giving them that." Blaine took a step away from her, "And I'm not putting Kurt through that."

"I didn't want you to." She started raising her voice, "I know how sensitive Kurt is… He doesn't need to deal with the questioning. A year and a half is long enough for me to get Brittany and the baby away from him. Besides, he might lose interest and I won't have to deal with him anymore."

"And Kurt's going back to France for a year." Blaine physically relaxed, his shoulders dropping and hands coming to his hips. "He'll be safe there if Karofsky is in prison."

Santana's face fell, "That means you won't have a reason to go with him."

"Santana—" Blaine's jaw dropped, but before he could tell her she was wrong, the loudspeaker interrupted him.

"Welcome to this year's McKinley High graduation. This year has been one of the most interesting. I am very happy with the seniors, who really started to come together." Figgins paused and cleared his throat, "Now a speech from our valedictorian."

Blaine tuned out again and glanced at Santana, but she was gone. "Dammit," he growled and prowled up to the front of the line, standing behind some boy he'd never seen before and in front of a girl who used to flirt with him. He couldn't remember her name.

The speech lasted almost ten minutes and a couple of the kids around him were falling asleep, but the others were whacking each other and whispering. Blaine was busy searching for Kurt, Finn, Santana, or Brittany. Finally, kids started being called up on stage, and one by one the crowd was disappearing. A burst of applause every time someone grabbed a diploma disrupted Blaine's concentration, but the biggest interruption and shock for him was when his name was blurted over the speaker.

He didn't know why it shocked him, but something went cold inside of him as the kids looked at him, then looked away, bored again. There were cheers from inside the auditorium, and someone who sounded like Cooper shouted his name and whistled. Stuck to the floor, Blaine stared at the stage door.

He cleared his throat and took a small step forward, grabbing the railing as he put his foot on the first step. "Blaine!" Someone chirped from behind him, and he whipped around to face Kurt, who had popped out of the line. Kurt bounced and waved at him, "Courage. It's okay."

Swallowing, Blaine kept his eyes on Kurt and continued up the steps. Why did the stage suddenly seem so high up? He stepped onto the stage and hesitantly approached Figgins, who held out a piece of paper for him. Figgins smiled and shook Blaine's numb hand, then set the paper in the middle of his palm. "Congratulations, Mr. Anderson."

Breathing harder than he should have, Blaine gazed at the audience below. A few of them clapped halfheartedly, but a group of people near the middle hopped from their seats and screamed at him. "Love you, Blainey!" Cooper shouted, ignoring the glares and eye rolls he got.

Heat burst into Blaine's cheeks and he weakly smiled at his family. "I love you, too."

He strode off the stage and was greeted by Burt, who had left his seat and was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled Blaine against his chest and pulled his cap off, scrubbing his hair, "That's my boy."

Blaine laughed and wiped his teary eyes, waiting with Burt until Finn's name was announced. Finn hustled onto the stage and flushed when his mom screamed incoherently. Burt thudded his hands together, "Way to go, Finn!"

Finn jumped off the stage and almost leapt onto Blaine, shaking him. "We did it, bro!"

"Guys, shut up!" Burt slapped both of them on their backs. "Kurt's about to be called."

Figgins muttered Kurt's name into the microphone, and Burt all but exploded. Kurt pounced onto the stage and threw his arms apart, happily dancing across the floor. He took his diploma and showed it off to them, grinning from ear to ear. "That's right, honey!" Burt shouted above the screeching coming from their other family members. "I'm so proud of you!"

Kurt posed again and let Carole snap a few pictures, then he pranced to the edge of the stage. "Blaine!"

Blaine rushed to Kurt and swept him into his arms, "I love you." Kissing a giggling Kurt, Blaine carried him to where the rest of their family was gathering.

"Oh, sweetheart!" Carole flung her arms around Finn's neck. "You were wonderful! You didn't smile for a picture but I'm still very pleased. At least you graduated."

"Thanks, Mom." Finn grumbled, wincing when she pinched his cheek.

Blaine tried to bite his snort that time.

"Alright, let's head out to Kurt's favorite restaurant and celebrate." Burt rubbed his hands together. "I am hungry. Anyone else?"

Kurt rubbed his stomach, "I had a big breakfast but I'm always hungry for cheesecake! But we have to stay for a few minutes so I can invite Brittany and Santana to join us."

"Of course, honey." Carole squeezed his hand. "I guess it'll take us a few minutes to find Cooper and Alicia in this chaos, anyway. Where did those two go?"

Burt rubbed her back, "I have no idea. Blaine, have you seen your brother? He was just with us."

"There he is," Finn nodded toward a man hurtling out of a group of people, frantically shoving past them.

"Blaine!" Cooper yelled when he got up to them. "We have to leave now!"

"Why?" Blaine remained calm, stuffing one of his hands in his pockets and taking Kurt's hand with the other.

"Alicia's water broke." Cooper desperately yanked at his brother. "The baby's coming."

Behind Blaine, Kurt gasped.

* * *

Santana held onto Brittany and listened to the final applause of the graduation. Clutching both of their diplomas in her hand, Santana scanned her surroundings for Blaine's dark head. None of the Anderson's, Hummel's, or Hudson's could be found, so she assumed they all left.

Crossing her arms, Santana hushed Brittany when she started to babble about nonsense the baby was telling her. "Let's get out of here, Britt." She muttered, wrapping a hand around Brittany's waist and pushing through the lines of kids.

"He's hurt, Santana." Brittany mumbled, blindly following her. "He says he can feel the drugs on his skin, but he can't escape it. He's trapped in a place that's hurting him… he's hidden from people who can help him. He doesn't like it. He wants to die."

"Brittany, stop." Santana paid little attention to her. "Those are your thoughts, not his. Stop thinking that way. I can't lose you. That's why I haven't left you yet."

"He's going to die, Santana." Brittany stopped walking. "And he's going to kill me, too."

And then she collapsed.

* * *

Blaine and Cooper half carried a squealing Alicia into the hospital, the rest of their family right at their heels. Kurt stayed by Blaine's arm, scurrying to keep up with his ground eating strides. "My fiancée!" Cooper shouted at no one in particular. "She's in labor!"

One of the secretaries behind the desk stood and rushed over to them, "Okay, let's get her into a wheelchair. How far apart are the contractions?"

Alicia shook her head, "I-I… don't know. I feel cramped."

Another person brought them a wheelchair and Blaine lowered Alicia into it. Cooper gave her a tight hug, "It'll be okay, honey. You're doing great."

Alicia shrieked again and clutched her stomach. Coop's skin paled as white as snow and he swayed. He quickly turned to the secretary, "Is she okay? Will my baby be alright?"

"Both of them are just fine." The secretary assured him. "She's nothing but normal… We see cases like these every day." She looked at the man who had given them the wheelchair. "Take her on up and get her checked out."

Burt pulled Kurt back when he went to follow them, but Alicia waved her hands, "Wait… I want Kurt with me!"

Kurt rushed to Blaine's side and took his hand, following them to an elevator. The rise to the fifth floor seemed to take hours, Cooper frantically asking Alicia questions about how she was doing, and Blaine nervously crossing and uncrossing his arms.

When the doors parted, they rolled Alicia into a bright room. Blaine and Cooper lifted her onto the flat bed and propped her head up with a pillow. Alicia shuddered and wrapped her arms around her stomach, "Don't let anything happen to him." She begged Cooper, "Promise me."

Cooper nodded, whipping around when a doctor came in. "She's in labor."

The doctor stared at Blaine and Kurt, "Are you two here for support?"

Alicia grabbed Kurt's hand, "Kurt is."

"Blaine is my brother." Cooper explained, "He'll be taking the baby."

Pointing at one of the chairs, the doctor looked at Kurt, "Why don't you sit up there?" Kurt scooted into the chair by Alicia's head, letting her squeeze his hand. Cooper took the chair on her other side, and Blaine glued himself to the wall.

The doctor squatted by Alicia's feet, adjusting her clothing, and he grunted, "You're very dilated. We'll monitor your contractions for a while. The baby should be here within the next hour or two." He stood again and reached over Alicia to shake Cooper's hand. "Congratulations."

Cooper managed a weak smile, "Thank you."

"I have to go get my supplies ready." The doctor nodded at a button on the wall, "Press that if you need anything."

He walked out of the room and for a moment no one spoke. Cooper finally moved when Alicia gasped again, and he put an arm under his fiancée's head. "You're alright."

Alicia laid her head back on the pillow and turned to face Kurt, "I want you to take good care of him." She whispered, "You and Blaine will be wonderful with him."

Kurt pursed his lips and glanced at Blaine, who was staring at him. "I know we will." He agreed softly.

Alicia smiled and patted Kurt's hand, "Would you like to sing to him, Kurt? You have a beautiful voice… It'd probably soothe the baby. And me." She snickered at that last.

Kurt opened his mouth and made a gorgeous sound, then another. He hummed from deep in his throat, his voice high and soft. It got the attention of Cooper, who gazed at Kurt in amazement. Closing his eyes, Blaine sank into the lovely music, bell-like sounds chiming off of Kurt's talented tongue.

Alicia gasped and put her hand on her stomach, "Kurt, he likes your voice. He's kicking."

Kurt giggled, setting his hand on Alicia's stomach when she motioned for him. "Hi, little baby. I'm Kurt."

Suddenly, there was a vibration under his palm, and Alicia groaned. Cooper's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "Sweetheart, what is it? Are you hurt?"

Alicia shook her head, "I don't know… I felt something move. It wasn't a kick." Twitching, she inhaled sharply and sat up. "Cooper! I think he's trying to crown!"

"Shit." was the only thing Cooper said, and he slapped the button on the wall. "Blaine! Come help me!"

Blaine peeled off the wall, looking around as if he was lost. Cooper threw himself by Alicia's legs, "I don't know what to do! Blaine, please!"

"She needs to push." Blaine said, dropping to the floor beside of his brother. "Go get a towel." He put his hands on Alicia's knees and spread them, "I think I see his hair. Alicia, you need to push harder."

Alicia squealed and convulsed. Cooper returned with a towel and gave it to Blaine, "What color is his hair? Blond or black?"

Blaine ignored the question, keeping his eyes on what he thought might have been a baby. Alicia pushed again and more of the soft baby slid out of her, and Blaine's eyes widened at the sight of a little curl. "His hair is curly and black." He whispered, running his fingers through one of the curls and wiping away a smear of blood.

The top of the baby's head appeared after Alicia pushed a few more times, and Blaine carefully put his hands under it. Soft curls wrapped around his fingers, a heavy, thick amount of the beautiful, charcoal locks. Cooper stood and went to his fiancée, urging her to push harder, just a few more times.

Blaine didn't hear any of it, his entire focus on the baby in his hands. His head popped out of Alicia and Blaine heard the tiniest, softest mewls. Gently wiping his face with the towel, Blaine so tenderly helped the baby get loose from his mother. The umbilical cord still tied him to her, but he grabbed a nearby clamp that the doctor had on a tray, and he cut the cord.

He turned the baby over and clutched him to his chest, wrapping him in the towel Coop had given him. The baby was pink and white with pudgy arms and legs. His feet and hands were dimpled and so tiny that Blaine was trying to convince himself he wasn't holding a little doll.

He had a very round face, his cheeks full and rosy. A pair of thin but very red lips were a startling shock of color in his pale face. He didn't have much of a nose, a small button in the middle of his face splattered with tiny, almost invisible, freckles. Dark brows highlighted his eyes, the lids covered in fans of dark, thick lashes.

With a tiny mewl, he squirmed and batted his lashes. Round, blue eyes stared up at Blaine, the color of an ocean in the middle of the night. They were beautiful. The little baby batted his fists at Blaine, curling and uncurling his fingers. Blaine reached down to smooth his curly hair, then he set his hand on the baby's warm chest. He bent to give the baby a moist kiss to his forehead, and one to his nose.

The baby hiccupped, and Blaine touched his thumb to his bottom lip. Suckling the tip of Blaine's finger, the little baby mewled when he realized there wasn't any milk. Getting to his feet, Blaine carried the baby to where the doctor had set a bottle of formula. He put the bottle near the baby's lips, holding it for him as he drank thirstily.

Blaine was aware of someone approaching him from behind, and he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Kurt. He handed the baby to Kurt, then gave him the bottle. "Hi, sweetheart." Kurt cooed, holding the baby close to his face. Feeding the baby, Kurt started humming again.

Wrapping his arms around a swaying Kurt from behind, Blaine rested his chin on his shoulder and stared at the tiny baby in Kurt's arms. "Archer." was all he said.

Kurt laughed, and at the melodic noise the baby wiggled. "Archer Elizabeth Anderson-Hummel. He's so beautiful, Blaine. He looks just like you."

Blaine swallowed and reached over Kurt's shoulder to run his fingers through his curls again. He was obsessed with those curls. "Kurt… I have two perfect, beautiful people in my life now. I love you both… so much."

Smiling, Kurt turned his head to give Blaine a kiss, then went back to admiring the baby. Blaine never wanted to let go.

* * *

Santana stepped on the gas and tried to keep a slumping Brittany upright. Speeding down the road, Santana flicked her eyes to Brittany's ashen face. Brittany came to for a brief second, then went under again. "Brittany," she snapped her fingers. "Brittany, don't close your eyes."

"It hurts so bad…" mumbled Brittany. "I feel sick." Her face turned green and she held a hand to her mouth, so Santana quickly pulled her car to the side of the road.

"Don't throw up in here!" She demanded, swinging her door open and running around the front of the car. She pulled Brittany's door open and Brittany fell to the ground, vomiting heavily at Santana's feet. Blood and mucus painted the greenish vomit with browns and reds.

She bent to pick Brittany up and put her back in the car, but was stopped by a murmur behind her. "Anything I can do?"

She glanced over her shoulder and glared at a girl who looked like a prostitute. Covered by the bare minimal and smeared with heavy makeup, the girl put a hand on her hip. "What's wrong with her?"

"None of your business." Santana snapped, aware of other whores coming out of a nearby alleyway. "Just back off."

"Looks like she's losing her babe." The whore assumed, "Did the placenta detach?" When Santana didn't reply, the whore carried on. "You won't make it to the hospital. The babe will die before then. You need to get it out now."

"Leave me alone!" Santana desperately gathered Brittany in her arms and stuffed her into the car.

"It's okay," a male prostitute touched her arm. "We can get it out for you. Most of the time we're asked to do abortions, but if you want it to live—"

"Brittany is not giving birth in an alleyway!" Santana shrieked and pushed him away.

The whores started to lose interest. "Whatever you say." The first one she came across shrugged, "But it won't live if you don't get it out soon."

Santana stopped struggling and thought about what they were saying. They might have been just whores, but she was sure they had plenty of experience with back alley abortions. Brittany had suffered for eight months with this baby inside of her, so she obviously wanted to keep him. Was Santana really that selfish or highhanded to pass down an offer like this when she knew they were right, that waiting the extra twenty minutes to get to the hospital would kill him?

She gave up with a sigh, "What are you going to do?"

Another whore came close to her, "We need to cut her stomach open. We'll get the baby out. You can take her to the hospital and get her stitched up later."

One of the whores reached for Brittany and dragged her away, so Santana quickly scrambled after her. They took Brittany to a darkened alley way where the odor of garbage, sweat, and sex burned her nose and eyes. It was musty and she could hear rats crawling between garbage bins.

The girl laid Brittany down and ripped the front of her red gown. She muttered something to one of the male prostitutes, then grabbed a knife from him. The tip of it was rusted, but that was one of Santana's littlest concerns with Brittany's wavering health.

In a swift move, the girl slit Brittany's stomach. The skin tore and blood swelled under the surface, a few drops leaking from her. The girl pulled open the two flaps and Santana almost vomited herself. Turning her head, Santana winced at the sounds of organs being fished through and sucking noises.

"I see him," the whore murmured, and then there was a noise like paper ripping. "He's not breathing… I think he's still alive. His heartbeat is weak."

Santana looked at what the whore was talking about, and to her surprise a little baby was in her hands. She was holding him like a rag doll, his head dangling over her thumb and his legs lightly kicking. The baby was smothered in blood, but Santana thought his skin was a light caramel color. Tufts of dark brown hair stuck up from his head. His mouth was wide and a pale tan color, just above a harshly pointed chin. His nose was very straight and long, in between two high cheekbones. Caramel eyebrows wrapped around his narrow eyes, shaded by a canopy of golden lashes.

He was all sharp angles and pointy elbows and knees, nothing about him childlike. And he had so much of Karofsky in him.

Suddenly, a gasp slipped from his mouth and he struggled to find a better position to rest. The whore set him on the ground so he could squirm and convulse, his chest rising and falling quickly. He breathed in sharply, as if he couldn't get enough air.

His eyes opened, revealing the same light brown from Karofsky's eyes. He writhed to find someone to look at, someone who could help him, and he spotted Santana. Anxiously gazing up at her, the baby screeched when she turned away, unable to look at him and see so much of Karofsky. She heard him crying, but she ignored him.

She glanced back down at Brittany, fighting with herself on leaving him there or picking him up, despite the fact that everything about him screamed Karofsky. Then she figured that being his son was punishment enough.

Acknowledging the sobbing, wriggling baby again, she muttered, "You are Karofsky's son, Hunter."

The baby screamed again. If he thought this was suffering, he'd be in for quite a scare if he ever met his dad. She picked him up, "I'll try to protect you, but you'll probably end up dead, anyway."

Hunter wouldn't stop shrieking, almost as if it was a pain to be alive.

* * *

Blaine carried Archer inside his darkened home, clutching the sleepy baby to his chest. Kurt held his hand and bounced along beside of him. "Sweetheart, I'm going to make Archer a bath. Can you find his pajamas?"

Carole walked past them and patted her son on the shoulder, "Finn, you'll have to be quiet if you get up or play your video games. I'll call Alicia to see how she's holding up at the hospital." She turned to Archer and cupped his small face, "Goodnight, little one!"

Archer cooed and kicked his tiny feet. Burt rubbed Blaine's back, "We'll see you in the morning. Let us know if you need anything."

Blaine and Kurt smiled at their family and the two of them walked upstairs, Kurt vanishing into their bedroom while Blaine headed into the bathroom. He ran a cool bath and prepared the baby-proof soaps, holding Archer tightly so he didn't slip out of his grip. After he'd readied the bath, he pulled the blanket from Archer's skin and laid him in the tub. He held his head up with one hand and soaped him with the other, washing his birth residue from his pink skin.

Archer kicked when Blaine touched a ticklish spot, his eyes on the rippling water. Blaine smiled at his baby, lifting him when he finished rinsing his soft skin. He held Archer against his chest, raising his brows when someone patted his shoulder.

Kurt gave him the pajamas and knelt beside of him, his hands resting on Blaine's thigh. He watched with wide eyes as Blaine zipped Archer into an outfit that resembled a little bear, fuzzy brown cotton and little bear pads on the feet. Blaine flipped the hood up and grinned as a pair of bear ears popped up off of Archer's head.

"Blaine, he's so sweet." Kurt cooed, stroking Archer's left foot.

Blaine stood and walked with Kurt back into their bedroom. Pushing down on the rails of Archer's crib, Blaine laid him on the soft cushion and lowered beside of the crib. He kept his hands on Archer and put his chin on the cushion. "I can't keep myself from him…" he whispered, clinging to the baby. "I never want to let him go."

Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine's cheek, "I have something for him." He scurried away and knelt beside of their bed, shimmying underneath.

Blaine laughed at his amusing fiancé, "Honey, what are you doing?"

Kurt, with much effort, pulled his chest out from under the bed. He popped the lid open and said something to his little birds when they ran up to him to see what he was getting into. Pushing some stuff aside, Kurt found what he was looking for and picked up a teddy bear with a white splotch on its nose. "This was my teddy bear when I was a baby." Kurt brushed the dust off of it and carried it to Blaine. "My mom made him for me. I named him Keegan for my best friend…" his small smile quivered, "the boy who was dating Everett."

Blaine was silent about that, and he took the teddy bear from Kurt. "That's so sweet of you. Thank you." He laid the teddy bear by Archer, who turned his head to look at it. His round eyes sparkled and he batted his fists, gurgling excitedly.

"Love him as much as I did, Archer. He's good for snuggling if you're having a bad day." Kurt giggled, cuddling into Blaine's side. "Blaine?"

"Mm hm?" Blaine turned his head and kissed Kurt's hair.

"I think we're both going to love him." Kurt whispered, wrapping his arms around Blaine and laying his head on his chest. "He's perfect for us."

Blaine stroked a dark curl off of Archer's face. "I love you." He choked, pulling Kurt tight to his chest. "I love you both."

Archer kicked his feet, grabbing his little teddy bear and tugging him closer.


	61. Blackbird

Author's note: Hi! I'm on my spring break so I'll be getting chapters up a lot quicker. As I said, this chapter deals with the babies for the most part. Something unexpected, even for me, wrote itself into this chapter (kind of at the encouragement of my Beta, who has more of a say in this story than I do :P) but I'll work with it and see where it goes! I absolutely love my Beta. She went over this chapter with me a million times and made it so much better, so if you like this chapter, thank her! I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with my next one, and even though my Beta will probably give me an idea, I'd love to hear ideas from you guys! Preferably something with the babies... story time, play time, bath time, etc. :)

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Is this your first story ever or your first story on FF because I'm really impressed with your writing style! Don't even worry about chapter length, every book is different :) As you can tell, my first chapter was about three pages and then I had one that was about forty or fifty :P I would love to give you ideas but I'm actually pretty terrible at coming up with them on my own. I can make a plot, but usually my Beta gives me the minor details for every chapter. You should PM JMarieAllenPoe, she's EXCELLENT with ideas! Um... if you want one, though, I usually like reading stories where there's a fight scene between dom! and the antagonist about the sub!. Dom!Sub! stories are kind of my thing... :P But thanks! I really liked that chapter, I adore the little babies :)

deshaunwalker: Aww I'm glad you liked Archer! I love that little boy so much :) Yeah, Brittany and Santana are pretty complicated...

prosen8966: I'm glad you noticed the differences! I actually wrote them that way to show foreshadowing for what kind of life both of the babies are going to live. As you've probably guessed, Hunter's going to go through some pretty traumatic stuff... But I loved writing Kurt singing to the baby and how it kind of brought Archer out sooner than expected :) I think Kurt has one of the (I say that because of Blaine, who also has an extremely beautiful voice) most beautiful voices on Glee. His range is so pretty! Not only that but he has one of the prettiest faces... He's perfect :) I haven't watched Glee in weeks (ever since RIB decided to become a couple of idiots) but I remember how little he was shown on S4 before I quit watching and on every other season and it's ridiculous. He's by far the most animated and interesting character, and he has the most beautiful voice (besides Blaine, who is tied up with him.)

Marierux: Thanks for your review! Cute profile picture :)

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Blaine awoke to little mewls coming from somewhere out of his line of sight. Lifting his head from the pillow, Blaine scrubbed his face and rolled over. He spotted a little crib and watched, through the rails, a tiny baby squirm. Smiling as the memory of yesterday came back to him, Blaine whispered, "My baby." He slid his legs off the bed and was careful not to ruffle Kurt. He leaned down to kiss his soft cheek, hearing Kurt's sigh as he did, before walking across the room.

He leaned over the edge of the crib and stared at the baby. Archer kicked his tiny feet and batted his fists at Blaine, squeaking and mumbling. Hugging his teddy bear to himself, Archer whimpered and reached for Blaine, his dimpled fingers curling and uncurling. Blaine scooped him up. "Shh…" He kissed his baby's ear as he peeped, "I'm here… I've got you. How was your first night?"

Archer curled into Blaine's chest, and Blaine gently bounced him to soothe him. From the bed, there was a light giggle, "Let me see him, Blaine. I want to hold him."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who held his arms out, and he carried Archer over to him. Setting the baby in the cradle of his arms, Blaine climbed onto the bed and gave Kurt a kiss. Kurt pushed Archer's hood off his curly head, "Blaine, look at him." Kissing the baby's cheek, Kurt ran his fingers through his bouncy hair, "He's so _beau._ He has your curls."

Blaine combed Archer's hair with his fingers, tugging the tangles out. The locks fell from a widow's peak in the middle of his forehead and hugged his cheeks, dangling almost to his chin. "He has beautiful hair." Blaine commented idly. "He's a perfect baby, Kurt. And he's all ours."

Kurt celebrated by kissing Blaine again. Busying himself with unzipping Archer's pajamas, Blaine stretched his legs and stood again. Archer squeaked and batted at Blaine, so Kurt tugged him closer, "He'll be right back, sweetheart."

Yanking open their drawer of baby clothes, Blaine picked a simple, white dress with a crown on the front of it. When he turned around, he raised a brow at Kurt's concerned face. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Kurt rested his cheek on his fist, "Are you sure Cooper won't mind?"

"About the dress?" Blaine held it up as if to be clear. "Kurt, sweetheart… of course he wouldn't. He's one of the most open minded people I know. Besides, I think it's healthy to put Archer in dresses. We don't know if he'll be a transvestite… transgender… even transsexual. We need to let him know that it's okay… whatever he chooses."

Kurt smiled, lifting Archer upright as Blaine tugged the dress over his head. "It's nice."

"What's nice?" Blaine took his baby back and cuddled him.

Sitting up, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, "Seeing you so open minded. You are a wonderful man, Blaine Anderson." Kurt kissed him again and wriggled off the bed, going to Blaine and resting against him.

Blaine grinned at him, "I love you, Kurt Hummel."

Kurt eye's sparkled affectionately. "I love you, too." Glimpsing at the baby, Kurt cooed and kissed both of his pudgy cheeks, "Is your belly rumbling? I'll make you a bottle of formula. It'll be so yummy."

Giving the baby back to Kurt, Blaine wrapped his arm around his waist and walked downstairs. When they reached the living room, they were greeted by the rest of their family. Burt grunted at them from his recliner, "'Morning."

Carole tilted her head, "How did the baby sleep?"

"He was wonderful, thank you." Kurt chirped, patting Archer's back.

"Hey, Kurt…" Finn stood from the couch and set his pop can on the coffee table, "can I hold him for a while?"

Kurt smiled and let Finn gather him up, "He likes his teddy bear… you could play with him with that."

Finn returned to the couch with the baby, plopping onto one of the cushions. He grabbed Archer's little bear and waved his paw at him, "Look, Archer! Your bear says hello."

Archer gurgled, batting his dimpled fists.

Blaine touched Kurt's waist and nodded at the kitchen, so Kurt tore his attention from the baby and went with his fiancé. Stopping by the kitchen table, Blaine leaned against it and crossed his arms, "Does your family like him?" He whispered unsurely, keeping his eyes on the people in the living room, especially Finn.

Kurt laughed and went to the sink, preparing a warm bottle for Archer. "Blaine, this is your family, too. And everybody loves Archer. This is the most I've seen my dad smile in a long time. You have nothing to worry about."

Blaine uncrossed his arms and sighed, "I'm too good at worrying. I'm sorry, sweetheart… it's just… my parents never liked children and I—"

Turning around after he got the formula heating, Kurt pressed himself against Blaine, "I love the baby…" he whispered, kissing Blaine's forehead, "and you. My family does, too. Look at Finn. He's trying so hard to make him smile!"

Blaine arched his brows at the sight of Finn pressing the bear's face to Archer's and claiming that he was giving him kisses. "He does know that Archer won't start smiling for a month or two, doesn't he?"

Kurt grinned and kissed Blaine's cheek, "Don't take the fun out of it for him."

Returning to the stove, Kurt poured the thick liquid into a bottle and twisted the cap on, "Finn!" He called into the living room. "Archer's breakfast is ready!"

They both heard shuffling feet and more mumbling, then Finn appeared and held Archer out. Kurt happily took the baby and held the bottle up for him, "Mm… doesn't it smell delicious, Archer? You're hungry, aren't you?"

Archer suckled the formula, his round, solemn eyes on Kurt's smiling face. Kurt carried Archer to the kitchen window and he pushed on it until it opened. He leaned almost all the way out, so Blaine grabbed his hips to keep him from falling out. "It's such a pretty day, Archer. It's very warm."

Kicking his feet, Archer glanced outside. Kurt looked at Blaine, "Blaine, can we take him outside? I know, we could have a picnic! Oh, wouldn't it be sweet, giving him his first picnic? I think he'd like it." Kurt giggled, bouncing on his toes, "Archer, we'll have so much fun! I'm going to find a soft blanket to wrap him in. Blaine, can you make lunch, please?" Before Blaine had a chance to respond, Kurt squealed and pranced out of the room.

Finn stared after Kurt as if he was in shock, "How does someone so tiny have that much energy?" Then he glared at Blaine, "And how do you, of all people, keep up with him?"

Blaine smirked, but he didn't say a word. He opened the cabinet and pulled a loaf of bread out, starting on Kurt's favorite sandwiches. Slicing the bread into little triangles, Blaine grabbed the jam from another cabinet and spread it onto the bread.

Kurt skipped back into the room, "Blaine!"

Blaine looked at his fiancé and grinned, quickly wrapping the sandwiches in napkins. Picking a few oranges, cherries, and celery sticks, Blaine pulled a decorative basket off the counter and stuffed his choices in it.

Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist when he approached him. Kurt quietly fed the baby as Blaine guided him outside. He started to shut the door but two little birds waddled out after him, scurrying to keep up with Kurt. They almost got blown away in a breeze so Blaine bent to scoop them up.

"Oh, my little birds!" Kurt chirped and gave them both kisses. "Archer, these are my birds, Pavarotti and Everett."

Archer batted at the tiny birds. Wiggling, Pavarotti hopped onto Kurt's arm and climbed up Archer's foot. He whistled at Archer, who cooed and gurgled.

Kneeling under a shady tree, Blaine spread the blanket out and helped Kurt plop onto it. Kurt patted the spot beside of him, "Oh, Blaine, this is perfect. Thank you so much." Tapping his chin, Kurt rested Archer against his chest and opened the top of the basket. "Mm… little sandwiches! You remembered how I like them cut!"

"Of course I did." Blaine snorted. "I'm your fiancé."

"You're the best fiancé ever." Kurt popped a sandwich into his mouth and closed his eyes, humming his satisfaction. "Yummy. You're also very good at making sandwiches!"

Blaine fell back on the blanket. "It's a talent." Putting his hand under his head, Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt and pulled him closer. "Let me have a taste." He pressed their lips and grinned, "You're delicious."

Kurt blushed, "I shiver when you say things like that."

Smiling, Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's hip, "You're so sweet."

Holding a sandwich to Blaine's lips, Kurt giggled as Blaine opened his mouth and nipped his fingers. Archer suddenly kicked his feet and waved at the basket. "Oh, sweetheart! You don't have any teeth… you can't chew the sandwiches up."

Archer gurgled in disapproval.

Smirking at his baby, Blaine sat up and scooped Archer into his arms. He lay back again and tucked Archer underneath his chin, "Kurt?"

"Mm hm?" Kurt nibbled a celery stick.

Blaine slid his fingers through Kurt's, "Someday I'm going to make him a sandwich… He'll run up to me and ask me to make him one because he won't be tall enough to see the top of the counter yet."

Kurt smiled adoringly, and he stroked Archer's hair, "Are you really happy, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't hesitate to nod, "I never thought I could be this happy. I didn't think I would fall in love… and I wouldn't have a baby… but I have this now…" he glanced at the house, "a family that loves me. Kurt, that's all I've ever wanted… and you. I've always wanted you."

"I know." Kurt leaned over to kiss Blaine's forehead. "I never thought I would fall in love, either. But then… you came along in such a surprising way… and you're all I've ever wanted, Blaine." Wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck, Kurt toppled him and curled against his chest.

Between them, Archer grabbed at the tiny birds by his feet. He mumbled to them and squeaked when Pavarotti nibbled his toes. Laughing into Kurt's hair, Blaine patted Archer's stomach, "You're so ticklish."

Archer gurgled, then noticed a shadow on the ground and kicked his feet. He batted at Blaine's hand, his huge eyes staring at the moving shadow.

Kurt lifted his head to see what was wrong, and was startled by a dark figure approaching them. He buried into Blaine's shirt, tightening his grip around Archer.

"Sweetheart, it's okay…" Blaine soothed him with a kiss to his forehead, "Santana, what are you doing here?"

Peeking over Blaine's shoulder, Kurt relaxed at the sight of Santana. Her face was pale and drained and she looked ready to fall asleep. She had a small object tucked under her arm like a football. "Blaine, I have something to show you."

Blaine handed the baby to Kurt and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "What is it?"

Santana knelt beside Blaine and sighed, unwrapping the bundle of dark, stained blankets. The blankets squirmed and peeped. She pulled a small baby out and held him to her chest. Shivering uncontrollably and mewling helplessly, the baby batted his fists and scrunched his face. He started to cry, and Santana swore.

"He's been doing nothing but crying," she muttered, giving him to Blaine as if he had burned her. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I held him for hours, gave him a bottle, put him down for bed early… He's giving me a headache."

"Oh," Kurt scooted closer to Blaine, "it's a baby."

"It's Brittany's baby." Santana wrapped her arms around her knees and tugged them to her chest.

"He looks so cold." Frowning, Kurt set Archer by the picnic basket and he held his arms out, "Blaine, can I hold him?"

Blaine numbly set him in Kurt's arms, his huge eyes on the baby's face that was so similar to Karofsky's. Kurt bundled him in an extra blanket he'd brought for Archer, bouncing him against his chest, "Shh… don't cry. You'll be okay." He stood and glanced at Blaine, "I'm going to make him a bottle."

Kurt carried the baby into the house, softly singing to him as he went. Picking Archer up, Blaine stared at Santana, "He wasn't due for another month."

"The placenta detached." She shrugged, "He would have suffocated to death if I hadn't gotten him out."

Blaine turned toward the kitchen. He could see Kurt pacing through the kitchen window, soothing the baby with his pretty voice as he waited for the bottle to heat up. "Santana, he looks half-dead. Have you taken him to a hospital?" When she shook her head, Blaine snarled, "Do you have any idea how to take care of a baby?"

"No." She snapped at him, "I don't see why you're getting so worked up about this. He's not your issue."

Blaine was about to lash out at her, but stopped when he heard Archer mewl. "Shh… it's alright."

Santana furrowed her brows at the little baby in Blaine's arms, "Is that your brother's…?"

"Yes." He muttered, "This is Archer." He dropped it at that and focused on Kurt again. Kurt pushed through the kitchen door and padded across the grass, beaming at the suckling baby.

"Mm… does that taste good?" Kurt tilted the bottle when the baby got near the bottom. "You're so hungry." Lowering onto the blanket, Kurt looked at Santana, "How has he been eating? Archer's had three bottles since he's been home."

"Four." Blaine put in, "I fed him when you were sleeping."

"He took one bottle when I got him home," she grumbled, "and he threw up after his next one."

Kurt pursed his lips, "Were you warming them? And I know Archer loves the sweeter kind."

She uncomfortably shifted, "I bought whatever was cheapest and I didn't heat them up. Look, I don't know anything about babies. They're difficult and fussy—" she glanced at the baby in Kurt's arms again, his head buried in Kurt's dress and his eyes closed, not a sound out of him.

Kurt cocked his head, "I don't think they're fussy or difficult. They just need attention and care." Wiping the baby's damp forehead, Kurt whispered, "What is his name?"

"Hunter Emile Pierce-Lopez." She kept her eyes on the baby, watching Kurt's movements with him, "I'm leaving Karofsky out of this."

"That's okay." Kurt easily shrugged that off, "Hunter… I like that name. Hi, Hunter. My name is Kurt."

The baby's brown eyes opened, and Blaine turned his head, alarmed at how much they looked like Karofsky's. Kurt noticed his harsh reaction and gave Blaine a gentle smile, "Blaine, he's so sweet. You cannot blame him for something that isn't his fault." Turning his attention to the baby, Kurt told him, "I think you have beautiful eyes, Hunter. They're your eyes, no one else's."

The little baby squirmed and stretched his arms to touch Kurt's face, squeaking at him. Kurt smiled and let his tiny hands pat his cheeks, "I have a baby, too. I think you'd like having a friend." Laying Hunter on the picnic blanket, Kurt took Archer from Blaine and put him beside him. "Hunter, this is Archer."

Hunter turned his head and wriggled, kicking his feet. Archer peeped and batted his fists at him. "Oh," Kurt sniffed, "I think they like each other. Blaine, look. Aren't they sweet?"

Blaine rubbed Kurt's arm, "Honey, I'll be right back. I have to talk to Santana." He rose to his feet and lifted Santana, leading her across the yard. He checked on Kurt before getting to his point, and he spotted Kurt showing both of the babies Keegan. Crossing his arms, Blaine turned to Santana, "San, you can't raise the baby."

"I know that." She growled, clenching her fists. "How does Kurt know how and I don't? He's never been around children!"

"He's more caring and gentle." Blaine muttered, and she started to glare at him but instead turned her head as if she'd been slapped. He had a point. "I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself for the past eight months… you're moody, careless, and… not the Santana I dated nine months ago."

"We've both changed."

He shrugged, "Yes, but you've gotten worse. Santana, this isn't healthy. You need to rest. Where is Brittany?"

"She's asleep." Santana glanced at Kurt again, "Blaine, what are you getting at?"

"Let me keep the baby for a while." He suggested, but she knew Blaine better than that. When he suggested, it was usually a demand. "San, it'll be better for all three of you. You're exhausted, Brittany's still recovering, and the baby is—"

"Don't tell me." She snapped, "I already know. What are you saying? You want to deal with the baby? Blaine, you can't even look at him."

"I'll get over it!" He raised his voice, "He just looks so much like him… it startled me."

She sighed, pushing her hair off her face. "You're making a stupid mistake, Blaine. But, whatever… take the baby. I don't care. Brittany's too oblivious right now to notice he's gone, and I don't want him." Glaring at him, she started to turn away. "But if Karofsky wants him back when he gets out of jail, you're going to have to give him back. You can't fight me on that."

Blaine was silent about that, watching her walk back into his house and disappear around the corner. Trying to swallow what just happened, Blaine rubbed his knuckles against his cheek and walked to the picnic blanket. He sat down beside Kurt, "Honey?"

"Yes?" Oblivious to the hardness of Blaine's jaw, Kurt kept wiggling Keegan's arms and legs as if to make him dance.

Blaine rubbed his back and kissed his cheek, "I made a deal with Santana. We can keep the baby for a while."

"Keep him?" Kurt chirped, finally lifting his sparkling eyes to Blaine's face. "Oh, Blaine. I think he'll fit in very well here… I like him very much."

"You don't care that he's Karofsky's?"

"Blaine, he's just a baby." Kurt picked Hunter up and laid him against his shoulder, patting his back. "He's nothing like his dad." Pulling the baby off his chest, Kurt murmured to him, "I'm going to make you a warm bath and then you can have another bottle."

Kurt stood and carried Hunter inside, so Blaine scooped Archer up and followed on his heels. The little baby stared over Kurt's shoulder as he walked, his brown eyes so focused and knowing. Gurgling at Blaine, the baby stretched his arms out and batted. Blaine, unsure of what to do, held his hand out. Tiny fingers curled around his thumb. The baby gurgled again, his eyes lifting to Blaine's face.

"Hunter…" Blaine lifted Archer's little teddy bear, "do you want to play with the teddy bear?" When the corners of Hunter's eyes wrinkled with what Blaine thought might be a smile, he stroked Archer's hair, "Sweetheart, can you share your toy with Hunter?"

Archer mewled and let go of the bear, and Blaine pressed it to Hunter's cheek. Cooing and squirming, Hunter buried his face in the bear's fur and bit down on his ear. He nibbled with a devious gleam in his eye. Blaine helplessly laughed at him, "You don't play that way. I'll show you how."

Hunter mumbled around the bear's ear, staring up at Blaine. Then he looked back at Archer, who was watching his bear with longing eyes, and he babbled something to him. Archer cooed and batted at his bear, happily playing with Hunter, ignorant of the fact that he'd been born to a slut and a psycho.


	62. Just Give Me A Reason

Author's note: Salut! This chapter isn't that long because it was very hard for me to write. It has the second Klaine fight of this story and is probably one of the saddest. It also reveals my inspiration for this story :) Once again, I have no idea what I'm doing for my next chapter so I'd like to hear your ideas!

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: You're a really good writer :) Thanks! I love writing about the babies and Daddy!Klaine :D

prosen8966: I completely agree with you on the nurturing thing! I don't believe in "crying it out", while I can understand it from a mother's pov that it's probably exhausting waking up every two to three hours, but it would still bother me to let a helpless baby cry it out. I do like Santana, especially as Blaine's best friend since I think they're good for each other and can understand each other's situations, but Santana is definitely a terrible mother. Her parenting skills will impact Hunter, albeit not as badly as Karofsky's, but her role in his life will be important. The thing about Hunter chewing on the bear with a devious gleam in his eye isn't actually that major, it's just his personality. Archer is going to be very quiet, respectful, and indifferent when he grows up (which will be shown in my last story, I'm making this into a trilogy and my last one will be about Archer and Hunter as teenagers), which is why he's such a quiet baby. Hunter is going to be very obnoxious and he's going to like to provoke people, and he's also going to be very devious, which is where that scene with the bear comes in. He has no health issues right now, but he will later on because of something that happens to him as a toddler. About Blaine giving Archer up, I put something about him thinking on that in this chapter. As you can tell, he is becoming very close to Archer and him giving Archer up will be a major issue later on. I have to applaud you for being strong enough to put up with Glee anymore. I want to watch it (every Thursday when it's on I drive myself crazy trying not to turn my TV on) and I do miss Blaine and Kurt singing, but every time I tried to watch it I just started crying. I hate Blaine and Kurt with anyone else and it was starting to affect my writing so I just had to give it up. Anyway, your comment about my story being compelling made me smile for, like, ten minutes. When I'm editing, most of the time I think I've written trash and I hate it, so you just boosted my confidence with this story! :D Thanks so much for your amazing reviews. I always love reading them.

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Blaine heard the sweetest music from his bedroom, a soft, pretty melody with words he couldn't understand. He didn't care, though. He just wanted to keep listening. Carrying Archer out of the bathroom, Blaine put him on his shoulder and pushed open his bedroom door. Kurt sat on their bed, nursing Hunter with a warm bottle. He sang so beautifully to him, and Hunter watched with fascinated eyes as Kurt's lips parted and his tongue curled. Mesmerized, Blaine leaned in the doorway and stared at his fiancé, absolutely enthralled with him.

Kurt suddenly stopped singing and he looked at Blaine, a shy smile curving his lips. "It lulls him to sleep when I sing." He put the empty bottle aside and handed a fresh one to Blaine. "It was a lullaby my _mère_ used to sing to me about a little kitten who was too fussy to go to bed. She sometimes teased with me and called me her little kitten."

"Little kitten," Blaine repeated lowly. He sat beside of Kurt and tilted Archer's bottle into his mouth. "I think that's cute." Patting Archer's stomach when he hiccupped, Blaine whispered to him, "My little kitten."

Kurt curled into Blaine's side, laying his head on his shoulder. Blaine arched his brows at the babies, "Neither of them seems tired. We probably let them nap too long."

Rubbing Blaine's back, Kurt murmured, "Tell them a bedtime story, Blaine."

Blaine was doubtful, "A story? Kurt, I'm not—"

"Oh, please, tell them a story!" Kurt pleaded, "Tell them… one about Beauty and the Beast! It was my favorite when I was a child. I only saw it once as a play, but I loved it when my mom would take me on her knee and tell it to me.".

Arching his brows, Blaine muttered, "Beauty and the Beast?" When Kurt scooted into the middle of the bed and laid down on the pillow, keeping Hunter in his arms, Blaine shook his head and lay down beside him. Running his fingers through Archer's damp curls, Blaine scratched his stubbly cheek and muttered, "Once upon a time…" He checked for Kurt's reaction, and from the smile on his face he thought he had a good start, "there was a man who became mean and cruel."

Hunter blinked at him and Archer gazed at him as if he was so intrigued with the story. "Then… he was cursed to be an ugly beast because he had distanced himself from everyone and nobody liked him. He hid himself away so no one could see him. He was ashamed of himself and wanted to take it all back."

Archer lost focus for a moment and batted at Blaine's bowtie, causing Hunter to mewl at him to continue with the story. Grinning, Blaine untied it and put it in Archer's tiny fist. Kurt wrapped his arm around Archer and squeezed him, kissing his cheek.

Blaine stroked Archer's damp hair again, "One day a boy intruded on the beast. The boy was so beautiful and kind that he could melt the coldest heart. The beast tried to avoid the boy because he was so ugly that he scared everyone. But the boy kept trying with him, wouldn't give up, and he saw the beast at his lowest point, when he thought he should give up everything. The beast was startled when the boy didn't fear him." He swallowed and pulled a tangle from Archer's drying curls, keeping his eyes from Kurt. "The boy took care of him… he smiled at him even though he was so awful… and the beast started to change. He realized that he didn't have to be mean."

Hunter made a gasping noise, wiggling toward Blaine as if to urge him to tell him what happened to the beast and the boy. "The beast was falling in love with the boy… and he couldn't help himself. He kissed him, and the boy wasn't disgusted. They fell in love and lived happily ever after."

Hunter cooed and batted at Blaine, but Archer had curled into Kurt's chest and was asleep. Kurt had also laid his cheek on the pillow and fallen asleep. Smiling at the two of them, Blaine scooped a limp Archer up, then wrapped Hunter in his other arm. Carrying them to their crib, Blaine laid Archer down and put Hunter beside of him. "Goodnight, little kittens."

Squirming and rolling toward Archer, Hunter pressed their cheeks and closed his eyes. Blaine returned to his bed and slid underneath the blankets, pulling them over Kurt. Kurt blinked at the movement and yawned, rubbing his puffy eyes. "Blaine?"

"You fell asleep." Blaine grinned at him and wrapped his arms around him when he cuddled into his chest.

"I'm sorry!" Kurt squeaked. "I feel so tired. I had no idea that babies take so much energy! We should have read more of those parenting magazines."

Laughing, Blaine nudged Kurt. "Roll over. I'll rub your back." When Kurt rolled onto his other side, Blaine slipped his fingers under his dress and massaged his lower back. Kurt sighed and trembled. "You're so good to them, up and about every time one of them needs you. Let me take care of them tomorrow. We'll keep them in the living room… they can play with their teddy bear. I'll make all of the bottles. You can relax."

Kurt shuddered when Blaine hit a sweet spot, "You're so nice to me." Pursing his lips as both of them quieted, Kurt brought up the issue that had been bothering him for months, "Blaine… can I ask you something very important?"

Kissing his shoulder, Blaine squeezed his butt, "Yes. What's wrong, honey?"

Kurt covered Blaine's hand with his own, "I'm leaving for France in less than two months."

Blaine's jaw instantly hardened, "I don't want to talk about that." Rolling onto his other side and pulling the blankets up to his chin, Blaine grumbled, "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

"Blaine!" Kurt chirped, sitting up and flipping the lamp on. "It's been weeks since I bought my plane ticket. You haven't said a word about it. I hear Puck and Finn talking to you about coming with me. I want you to be with me in France… I'll miss you if you aren't."

Blaine erupted from the blankets, his face bright red, "I said I didn't want to talk about it!"

Kurt jumped, his fingertips pressing to his lips. "Why are you angry with me?"

Swallowing his temper, Blaine blew out heavily, "I'm not… angry with you. But this is my entire life, Kurt. This… Ohio. We lost Nationals because of me… If I can't win a show choir, how am I supposed to make it as a record producing singer? You remember those record producers we saw in New York… the Warblers? They haven't contacted me. They must have come across a better singer who doesn't have stage fright and forgotten about me. I'm forgettable, Kurt. And if I'm not good enough in New York, how can I ever make anything of myself in France?"

Kurt's eyes filled and his face turned bright red, but before he could respond Blaine's phone buzzed. Blaine took a minute to tear his eyes from Kurt, his breathing heavy and his jaw clenched so tight it was throbbing. Finally, he leaned over and picked his phone up off their dresser. "What?" he growled without checking who the caller was.

"Bad time?" came Cooper's unsure reply. "Sorry."

Blaine softened his voice, "What do you want, Cooper?"

"To see how my baby's doing!" Cooper said as if it should have been obvious. "I should let you know that we'll probably be leaving our things at your place. Alicia doesn't want to see the baby right now so we're heading straight to India in a few days…"

Blaine thought he said more but he tuned him out. "My baby…" he whispered to no one in particular, feeling as if something inside of him had just been pricked. His stomach hurt. A lump swelled in his throat. He didn't want Kurt or Archer taken away from him. "My baby."

"What?" Cooper muttered.

Blaine swallowed the lump, "Nothing." Without bothering to comment on what Coop was doing with his things, Blaine grumbled, "He's fine."

"That's… great!" Coop was starting to understand that his brother was in a foul mood. "Blainey, if something's wrong, you know you can talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you." Blaine bit out, then winced as he realized how rude that sounded. "I'll call you later." Snapping his phone shut, Blaine threw it on the dresser and stayed quiet.

After a moment, Kurt whispered, "You don't want to come with me, do you?"

The lump was back.

The blankets rustled and Kurt scooted off the bed, "I think I'm going to sleep in Finn's room tonight."

Blaine immediately sat up, "Kurt, honey!" Kurt ignored him, gathering his pillow and frantically wiping his wet eyes.

Kurt walked up to the baby's crib and peeked inside of it, then turned and padded out of the room. Swearing, Blaine rubbed his scratchy face and fell onto his pillow. He never fought with Kurt, and now he knew why he didn't. He hated every second of it. He yanked the blankets over his head and closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep.

He had a feeling every night would be like this if he let Kurt go.

* * *

Blaine mumbled when someone nudged his body, and he opened his eyes. A pair of the bluest eyes were staring right back into his, tears swimming in the corners. "I didn't mean to push you." Kurt's voice broke and he squeaked.

Quickly sitting up, Blaine gathered Kurt in his arms, "No, no…" he smoothed Kurt's ruffled hair, "shh. You didn't do anything wrong. I said the stupidest things, Kurt. I never should have yelled at you."

Kurt hiccupped and buried his face in Blaine's chest, "I-I understand if you need time to figure yourself out… I just want you with me all the time."

"I want you, too." Blaine cupped Kurt's tiny face and smothered him in kisses. "Sweetheart, I want you, too. I'm just… so scared and confused. I don't know what I'm doing. I haven't thought about my future. I know I want you in it… but France is—"

"We can call each other." Kurt promised, "We'll Skype date every night."

Blaine didn't want to tell him that their nights would be at completely different times. He just held Kurt as tightly as he could, "I'm sorry."

Kurt closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. Neither of them knew how long they stayed there, listening to each other's breathing, clenching each other's clothes as if they would never let go.

Blaine finally moved when he heard Hunter squeak. "The babies are up."

Opening his eyes, Kurt looked at the crib and wiped the tear streaks off his cheeks. "Blaine?" he whispered as Blaine stood and went to get the babies.

Blaine looked over his shoulder, "Yeah?"

Kurt said nothing but Blaine understood, anyway. He bent to lift the babies and clutched both of them to his chest. Taking the babies back to the bed, Blaine laid Hunter in Kurt's arms. Blaine climbed onto the bed and patted Archer's back.

Pressing his lips, Kurt whispered, "How long did it take beauty and the beast to have their happily ever after?"

Blaine didn't answer and kept bouncing Archer. He wondered if the beast would have gone with beauty if he had asked him, despite the fact that he wanted to stay hidden because of how ugly he was.


	63. Fearless

Author's note: Hi, readers! Here's my next chapter. Woooo. I should have my next one up sometime tomorrow. I think I'll have one more chapter before the drama with France really hits hard, so enjoy Klaine for now :) That sounded really mean... I do like Klaine and this year will be just as torturous for me, but I do know what I'm doing :) Just for a little update, I changed my mind. This is my saddest chapter, not chapter 64. And it's only going to get worse... Thanks to my lovely Beta for all of her help!

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: That's totally okay, I was crying during this one... The next year of my story will be a complete mess. I'm going to hate it, so you probably are, too. Ohmygosh, don't even get me started on how much I hate school. Just in general. Every single assignment, no matter how big or small. Graduation can't come soon enough. I don't even have a Kurt or Blaine to ditch school with, since they ditched so much school in my story... I don't even know how they got away with graduating XD Good luck with your exam and folio and try to keep writing!

* * *

Blaine bounced Archer on his thigh as Archer cooed and batted at nothing in particular, his round, blue eyes on Hunter, who was on the floor with Finn. Pavarotti waddled across the floor and Archer wiggled so much that he almost tipped off of Blaine's knee. "Alright, sweetheart." Blaine picked him up and set him on his stomach next to Hunter, and he happily grabbed at Pavarotti. Kneeling beside of Finn, Blaine stroked Hunter's dark hair off his face. "Hunter, you have formula all over your face."

Finn guiltily looked at the floor, "I couldn't get it in his mouth and then he wouldn't let me clean it off." He set their teddy bear down and struggled to his feet, "I'll go get some paper towels. Maybe you'll have an easier time cleaning him up."

Lifting Hunter and putting him against his shoulder, Blaine glanced up when heavy footsteps clomped down the stairs. Burt appeared with another box that was bursting at the edges, "Kurt, you're going to break my back with all of these clothes." He grumbled away from the phone tucked by his ear. "Huh? No, I wasn't talking to you."

Following his dad, Kurt giggled and hopped off the stairs. He ran up to the little babies playing on the floor, "Oh, my sweets!"

Burt lumbered back to the stairs, muttering something else into the phone. "Kurt, do all the clothes on your bed go into boxes?"

"Mm hm." Kurt lowered onto the floor and grabbed a rattle by Archer's foot. He shook it and Archer batted at it. "Oh, Hunter! Why are you so messy?"

"He had another rough morning with his bottle." Blaine muttered, "Finn's getting paper towels."

"He has more fun spitting it out and throwing his bottles than he does eating them." Shaking his head, Kurt pinched Hunter's foot, "You're a naughty baby!"

Hunter gurgled and kicked his feet. He spotted Archer rolling the rattle back and forth and he fussed, wriggling to escape Blaine's grip. Blaine tightened his arms, looking up with relief when Finn burst from the kitchen. "Sorry, I couldn't find the soft ones."

Blaine took the paper towels and wiped Hunter's face, then set him down to play with Archer. "All of the baby things are in the third cabinet."

Burt thumped back down the stairs, the phone still at his ear, "…no, I said that Kurt will be there in three weeks. Are you going to pick him up at the airport?" After a moment, he shook his head and rubbed his face. "I think we're breaking up. There's a lot of static. Call me when you get out of the street." He snapped his phone shut and set another box in the pile, "Kurt, your plane will get there at night… French time. I think your Aunt Laurice will be picking you up."

"Okay," Kurt smiled, tickling Archer's stomach, "thank you, Dad."

"No problem, kiddo." Burt walked up to his son and kissed the top of his head. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay there. Call us as soon as you get on your plane, and then when you land. And have your Aunt Laurice call me when she picks you up. The woman's a loon, she forgets things you tell her ten minutes before."

"She wouldn't forget me." Kurt chirped.

Burt arched his brows, "She forgot you at a mall once. You were too little to remember. I don't think you minded much… she came back and found you looking at shoes."

Kurt looked devastated. Finn cleared his throat, "My mom forgot me at a store once."

Carole sighed, "Finny, I told you before, I didn't forget you. I was testing you to see how you'd do on your own. Boy, I came back and you were crying! My baby boy needs his mama."

Lowering his head, Finn dropped to the floor and plopped onto his butt, "Mom, cut it out. I was six. You're embarrassing me."

Burt patted Finn's back, "Sometimes we'd like to forget you again." When Finn scoffed and crossed his arms, Burt rubbed Blaine's shoulder, "Blaine, do you mind stepping outside for a minute? There's something I need to talk to you about."

Blaine hesitated and flicked his eyes between Kurt and Burt, then got to his feet. "What is it?"

Burt pointed at the door and led him outside, stepping onto their little porch. He pulled Blaine aside and sat down on one of the patio chairs. "Come on, I don't bite." When Blaine reluctantly sat on another chair, his back stiff and his shoulders arched, Burt rested his chin on his fists, "You've been quiet about Kurt leaving. I just want to know what you're thinking about it."

Blaine didn't want to go through this again. He swallowed, "I'm happy for Kurt."

"That's it?" Burt raised his brows. "That's all you have to say? Blaine, Kurt's going to another continent with a five hour time difference. I don't even think he really realizes how this is going to affect his relationship with all of us."

Turning his head so Burt couldn't see the flush to his cheeks and the wetness to his eyes, Blaine whispered, "Burt, I really don't want to talk about this. Please."

Burt took what felt like a long time to reply, or maybe it just felt like that to Blaine because he was twitching to run from it. His fingernails scraped his palms, and that's when Burt spoke. "Hey, hey. None of that. Blaine, you've got to stop doing that. You can't distract yourself from pain by making more pain."

Blaine's fingers wouldn't uncurl, "It hurts."

Burt stood from his chair and sat down beside of Blaine, pulling him to his chest, "I know it does. It hurts for me, too. Kurt's my baby and I don't want him to leave." Blaine shuddered as Burt rubbed his back. "Boy, you act all rough and tough but you're just a big pile of mush, aren't you?"

A tear dripped off Blaine's nose, "I don't know what to do."

"You know you're the only one who can decide that, don't you?" Burt glanced in the living room window. "No matter what, you and Kurt will end up back together. When Kurt loves someone, he never stops loving them. He's so devoted… He might be a little ditzy and naïve, but he knows when he loves someone. He's a lot like his mom in that way. If you can hold out on your end of the bargain, everything will be just fine."

"Of course I will." Blaine whispered, rubbing his damp cheeks. "Kurt is my greatest love."

"Then, great," Burt wrapped an arm around Blaine's shoulder, "you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm good at worrying."

"I know." Burt was quiet for a few moments, then muttered, "You know, I thought France was intimidating, too. Kurt's mom… she loved it. But I was horrified when she asked me to come with her. I was just a mechanic… France is a continent full of talented singers, artists, and actors who are all inspired by its beauty and elegance. And I was inspired by popped tires and bent up mufflers. I wasn't meant for France, Blaine. Not to say that you aren't… but just give it some time. You know, Elizabeth and me still talked. Not as much as I would have liked, but she always tried to call when she was on break. If the accident had never happened…" he cleared his throat and scratched his nape, but didn't finish his statement. "If you're not ready for France, then you can stay here. And Kurt will be home before you know it."

"What if he doesn't want to come home?" Blaine said so lowly that Burt almost didn't catch it. "What if he falls in love with it again and doesn't come back to me? Burt, that's his home. The stage is where he belongs. I'm nothing compared to—"

"You're not to Kurt." Burt got to his feet and held his hand out, "Kid, you're everything to Kurt. Before you came around, he was thinking about leaving Ohio and not coming back. He decided on spending a year in France after you came along. I know that France is his home. But, Blaine, he loves you. It's like he's forcing himself to go back… like he doesn't want to go."

Blaine lifted his eyes to Burt's face, "What?"

Burt raised his brows, "I mean that I think you're more important to him than France… than his dreams… than everything he's wanted since he was just a little boy."

"I've never been loved like that before."

"Trust me, kid," Burt shook Blaine's shoulder, "nobody has. I told you, when Kurt loves someone, he really loves them." Helping Blaine to his feet, Burt slapped his back, "Why don't you and me go inside? I think I hear Kurt squealing. He's probably up to something."

Blaine walked on Burt's heels as they returned to the living room, and he quickly rubbed his eyes to hide his tears. As expected, Kurt was bouncing in the middle of the floor. Burt arched his brows at his son, "What do you got there, honey?"

Kurt held up a miniature, electronic piano as if it was a Grammy, "Look what Carole bought the babies!" He pressed a key and to Blaine's surprise the piano barked. "It makes animal sounds!"

"Oh… that's good." Burt rubbed his temple as if he was already preparing for the headache, "Does that thing have a mute button?"

Kurt ignored him and pounced onto the floor, setting it in front of the babies. "Archer, Hunter, look! Hm… what sound does this key make?" He pressed another key and there was a gobbling noise. "Oh, a chicken!"

Archer's eyes widened to the size of saucers. He batted at the piano, pressing one of the keys and gurgling when it meowed. Kicking his feet, Archer patted at the keys, but was interrupted when Hunter smacked almost all of them. Archer gurgled and swatted at his hands so he would remove them from the keys.

Getting back into his rhythm, Archer poked the keys and cooed every time he heard a new animal. Suddenly, Pavarotti hopped onto the piano and stepped on one of the keys, ruining Archer's melody. Everett also popped up on a key and patted his feet, causing a cow to continuously moo.

Archer gurgled in distaste, tapping the remaining keys.

Bored of the piano, Hunter struggled to lift his head so he could look at Kurt as if to urge him to give him something else to do. Kurt squeaked and patted his fingers, "Blaine, look! Hunter's lifting his head! Oh, Hunter, I'm so proud of you!"

Enjoying the attention, Hunter let a small smile tug his lips. It wasn't very big and he didn't open his mouth, but it was still very pretty and dimpled. "Oh, my goodness." Carole put her hand over her mouth, "His first smile. He's growing up so fast."

Kurt's eyes filled and he picked Hunter up, "Oh, you have such a pretty smile. Can you smile again? It made me very happy."

Hunter batted and tried to curve his lips, but the smile ended up lopsided. "Blaine!" Kurt chirped. "Come take a picture of him! He's so sweet! You are a beautiful baby, Hunter." Kissing both of his cheeks, Kurt held him up when Blaine grabbed a camera off the coffee table. Blaine snapped a few of him and Kurt, enjoying seeing Kurt pose for the camera and make kissy face at the smiling baby. The sight of it made Blaine's heart hurt.

Archer, who had been watching the chaos, gurgled and patted the piano again. Kurt turned and kissed the top of his head, "Oh, sweetheart! You're a pretty baby, too. Blaine, take a few pictures of Archer or he'll never forgive us."

Burt laughed, "I remember your first smile, Kurt. We were in a store and you saw a pair of glittery, pink heels. You wouldn't stop fussing until I bought them for you."

Giggling, Kurt touched his toes, "I always have pampered my feet."

"It's paid off," Carole grumbled. "My feet are covered in callouses. Yours are as soft as a baby's bottom!"

"Nothing a pedicure can't fix." Kurt promised her, laying down beside Archer when he gave up on the piano and laid his cheek on the floor. "Are you sleepy?" Blaine grabbed Keegan and handed him to Kurt, and Kurt tucked him against Archer's stomach. Hunter spied his yawning friend and curled up with him, his eyes closing. "Mm… I could take a nap with them. I'm exhausted from all of this packing."

"It'll be over soon, sweetie." Carole patted the spot beside her on the couch and Kurt scurried over to it. Blaine followed him and sat next to him. "Then you'll be back in France. Are you excited for the trip?"

Kurt's reply was hesitant. He took a moment to pull a blanket draped over the back of the couch onto his lap, then he whispered, "Yes. I guess so."

"Oh, honey," Carole patted his shoulder, "don't be nervous. We'll call you every day. You'll be with your aunt and you'll be back to performing and modeling."

Kurt didn't say a word about that, his huge eyes on his lap. He blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek, startling Blaine. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Blaine murmured, pulling him close. "Don't cry."

Finn leaned as far forward as he could in his chair, "Kurt… bro… talk to me. What's the matter? You know your big brother will take care of it for you."

Wiping his eyes, Kurt whispered, "It's just… hard for me to leave this place. I just got engaged… and I need more time with the babies… and now I have a stepmom and stepbrother." When Pavarotti climbed onto his foot to see what was wrong, Kurt scooped him up, "And I have my little birds."

"It's only a year, Kurt." Carole assured him, "I think it'll be good for you, all of that performing. Who knows, maybe you'll get a lead role in a musical you like."

Kurt wiped his eyes again, "I think I'm going to pack more of my things." He managed a weak smile at Carole, "Thank you for the pep talk. It was very nice of you. And thank you, Finn, for asking how I am." He padded across the carpet, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

After he disappeared upstairs, Carole shook her head and put a hand over her mouth, "Poor, little dear. He's so emotional about this… so torn. There has to be something we can do for him."

Burt shook his head, "Just support him, I guess."

Blaine got up and walked across the room, "I'm going to put the babies down." Scooping both of them up, Blaine took the stairs two at a time and stopped outside of his bedroom door. He listened to the quiet sound of crying and closed his eyes, hesitantly pushing open the door. "Kurt?"

Kurt was curled up on their bed, weeping into a damp tissue. His blue eyes opened and he stared at Blaine's face, then he held his arms out. "Come hold me." Blaine quickly did as he was told and climbed onto the bed, laying the babies between them. He wrapped his arms around Kurt. "I'm going to miss this in three weeks."

"Don't say it," Blaine begged, kissing everywhere he saw Kurt's skin. "I'm thinking about now. Right now. Don't say three weeks. Please."

"We can't avoid it." Kurt sobbed harder and buried his face in Blaine's shirt, his entire body trembling, "Blaine, we're about to be separated for an entire year. Nothing has ever hurt so badly. I'm going to miss you. I won't stop loving you… no matter what. Even if I don't hear from you for two weeks—"

Blaine kissed Kurt's mouth to hush him, "No… I'm calling you every day… until you pick up. I will call you a hundred times if I have to."

Kurt shuddered and grabbed Blaine's shirt so tightly that he almost ripped the seams, "Hearing your voice will be good, and seeing your face on Skype will be wonderful, but nothing is like being held in your arms. Blaine, hold me tighter."

Blaine finally burst into tears and he covered his face with one arm, "Kurt." was all he said, a deep rumble from his throat. "Kurt."

Quivering, Kurt closed his eyes because he felt so tired. His emotions had been zigzagging all day and he didn't want to pack anymore and he didn't want to think about France and he didn't want to leave Blaine. "Blaine…" Kurt hiccupped, and then he dozed off.

* * *

Kurt woke up to little peeps coming from somewhere he couldn't see. He rolled over and patted for Blaine, sighing when he touched his rock hard chest. "Blaine? Is it the babies?"

Blaine sniffed, "Yeah. I'm just feeding them."

Lifting his eyes to Blaine's hardened face, Kurt scooted closer to him and smelled a sweet baby. Archer was resting on Blaine's chest, his lips around a bottle. "Archer," he whispered, then looked around for Hunter and spotted him on Blaine's other side. "Can I have Hunter?"

"Yeah," Blaine popped the bottle out of Archer's mouth and set it aside, gathering up Hunter and giving him to Kurt. Kurt cooed and bounced him. "Are you okay, Kurt?"

Kurt weepily smiled and cupped Blaine's face, pulling him closer. He kissed his warm mouth, "You taste like tears."

Blaine nodded, "I know. But you still taste like my sweet Kurt. I love you."

Laying his head on Blaine's shoulder, Kurt whispered, "I love you, too."

Hunter hiccupped so Kurt patted his back, and Archer mewled. Lifting his head a little, Archer looked directly at Kurt and opened his mouth in a tiny smile. His blue eyes searched for Blaine's face next, and he gave him the same smile. "His first smile." Kurt cooed, tearing up again. "Blaine, promise me you'll record them starting to crawl and walk… and their first words. You have to promise me."

Blaine's eyes filled as he realized that Kurt was going to miss all of that, "I promise you."

Kurt closed his eyes, "I'm so sorry. I want to stay."

Blaine tried to blink away the tears but they just kept pouring out, "I want you to stay, too. I want you to stay." Blaine's voice broke, "Don't leave me… I love you…"


	64. I'll Remember

Author's note: Sorry, another short chapter! My last few were really short because they've been hard to write. I'm dreading the next year as much as everyone else but I feel like it's necessary for both Kurt and Blaine. This definitely isn't my best chapter, either. My Beta approved it (I love when she approves :D) but I think it's choppy and very monotone. I kept having to take breaks to make my brother's birthday cookies and it's just been a really rough chapter to write. My next one should be better and longer. For those of you wondering, if the end of my chapter is too vague, this is the day before Kurt's plane leaves. I should have my next chapter up later tonight or tomorrow :)

Spoilers for next chapter: Finn will give Kurt something. There will be a plane scene. Kurt will meet a new guy who has been on Glee (TV show). He is straight on the show, but in my story he'll either be bi or gay. Blaine will write something. He will drive somewhere and give what he wrote to someone.

Overall spoilers for the next year: Someone will become very depressed and probably be suicidal. The main antagonists over the next year will be random men, the guy who Kurt will meet in the next chapter, Finn, Quinn, and sometimes Blaine. Finn will have a one-night-stand with someone and it won't be Rachel. Someone (not Burt and Carole or Cooper and Alicia) will get married. Santana will call Kurt with some heartbreaking news. An out-of-context picture of Kurt will be taken that will hurt Blaine.

deshaunwalker: I have no idea what happened? One of my other reviewers mentioned that, too. But no biggie :) I promise you that no matter what I like fairytale endings, so even if there is angst it won't be that bad. The issue with Cooper and Alicia taking Archer back won't be that major yet, so don't worry :)

dcriss16: Aww! I feel terrible :( but please know that I do want Klaine to be happy together.

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I'm hurting, too :( This chapter was so hard on me and I hated writing it! Ugh. Why am I doing this to myself? XD I'm a firm believer in Klaine happiness so I don't even know what's going on right now. Ohmygosh I'm turning 17 in June! I'm only a junior, too, but I just like counting down to graduation. :P But annyway I hope you did well on your music exam! My Beta plays percussion, too, and she loves female percussion because it's mainly a male thing (I think?) but yeah, I don't know, you just reminded me of her :P I used to take dance class but I'm really clumsy (part of the reason why I quit) and I fell a lot... so I feel your pain :(

prosen8966: The Warblers did ask Blaine to contact them (because they wanted Blaine to figure himself out first), not the other way around, but Blaine likes twisting things (especially when he's in bad moods, which he was when he said that) so that it's his fault and he can punish himself. I used to be in a situation a lot like Blaine's with Karofsky (without the rape/obsession/physical abuse) and I understand how easy it is, even years after that person is gone, to slip back into that phase of thinking you're totally worthless and forgettable. I don't have a cheerful, perky, overly excited person like Kurt in my life, but I think I wrote Blaine pretty accurately to the situation he's in. I was really worried about the baby scene. Blaine seemed really selfish right there, but I think he has to be selfish right now because he's about to lose Kurt and then Coop had just reminded him that he was going to take the baby away. I thought Burt was really sweet to Blaine with telling him that Kurt wanted him over Broadway, fashion, and basically everything he's dreamt of since he was little. About Carole's little comment to Finn, I just want to let you know that she was being completely sarcastic. I feel like she can be a very sarcastic mom to Finn, and that he's a good, naïve target to do that with, especially when Burt added that sometimes they want to forget him again. Obviously they love Finn and I think that Carole is a good mom to him. Beauty and the Beast is by far my favorite fairy tale and it's the inspiration for a lot of my stories, but especially this one. Since this is a realistic story, Klaine is obviously going to always have very realistic (and sometimes unrealistic, just my inner creative writer getting carried away...) problems, but you'll have to wait and see how it all turns out for them. If you're worried about where the babies are going to end up as teenagers, I can say that Archer will end up in a good family, but you'll just have to keep reading to know what happens to Hunter :)

* * *

Kurt closed his eyes and warm tears rolled from the corners of them, streaking his pale face with shininess. He looked at the pile of boxes against the door, all of his things ready to go to France. But he wasn't. Blaine and Burt carried the last of the boxes down the stairs, tucking them away with the rest of them. While Burt remained standing by the door with his head buried in his hands, Blaine walked to the couch and sat next to Kurt. He rested his chin on his fist, his eyes glossed over, dazed, distant.

From the floor, Archer squeaked and squirmed toward his teddy bear, which Finn had set down in front of him. He pawed at it and closed his mouth around its foot, slobbering on it. Blaine slid off the couch and knelt beside his baby, taking the bear from his mouth. "Here, sweetheart." He shook the bear and Archer cooed at it, causing Hunter to get interested and bat at it, too.

Wiping his eyes, Kurt sat up straight and whispered, "I have something to say." When everyone looked at him, almost hopeful that he'd say he was putting off the entire trip, Kurt pressed his fingertips to his lips, "This is my way of saying thank you to all of you for being so kind to me. You all are amazing people and I'll be happy to see you again in a year."

He took a breath and closed his eyes, "Say goodbye to not knowing when the truth in my whole life began… Say goodbye to not knowing how to cry. You taught me that." Opening his eyes, Kurt glanced at Blaine and was startled by the wetness in his eyes. Blaine didn't cry in front of anyone except him. "And I'll remember the strength that you gave me, now that I'm standing on my own. I'll remember the way that you saved me. I'll remember."

Flicking his eyes away before his own tears choked up his song, Kurt stared at the pattern on his skirt. "Inside, I was a child that could not mend a broken wing. Outside, I looked for a way to teach my heart to sing. And I'll remember the love that you gave me, now that I'm standing on my own. I'll remember the way that you changed me. I'll remember."

He pinched the inside of his wrist to distract himself from the tears swimming in his eyes, his voice thick and weepy. "I learned to let go of the illusion that we can possess. I learned to let go. I travel in stillness. And I'll remember happiness. I'll remember. And I'll remember the love that you gave me, now that I'm standing on my own. I'll remember the way that you changed me. I'll remember—" Kurt cut himself off when his voice broke, and he covered his face with his hands.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Blaine quickly got to his feet and returned to Kurt, sitting beside of him. Kurt collapsed on his lap and pressed his face to Blaine's thigh, clinging to him.

"I don't want to remember," Kurt hiccupped, squeezing Blaine's legs. "I want to see you every day—"

Bowing over Kurt, Blaine kissed his back, "Come on, little love… No, I've never been afraid to cry. And I finally have a reason why. I'll remember."

Kurt shuddered, forcing the words out, "I'll remember."

No one dared speak for a moment, all of them thinking about how things would change without Kurt. Finn finally cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them to his chest. "That's pretty, little bro."

Closing his eyes, Kurt slid out of Blaine's arms, "I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap."

"Whatever you want, honey." Burt assured him, "I can go pick up pizza and salad. You don't have to make dinner tonight."

"Thank you." Without another word, Kurt walked up the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

Carole shook her head, "I've never seen Kurt like this before. It's worrying me."

Blaine stood and crossed his arms, "I'll take care of him." Following Kurt upstairs, Blaine turned the corner and knocked on their bedroom door. "Kurt, sweetheart… it's me." He opened the door and frowned at Kurt, who was lying on their bed and twisting the chain of his locket in his fingers. Kurt held his arms out, so Blaine slid onto the bed and gathered him in his arms. "Shh… I'm here. I've got you."

Kurt slid his hands under Blaine's shirt and he stroked his rippling abs, the hard valleys on his stomach, his tight nipples. "I'm trying to memorize you." He squeaked, tears filling his eyes again, "That way I can remember what it felt like to be held in your arms… because holding a pillow won't be the same."

Blaine closed his eyes, "Kurt… Kurt, please… You're making yourself anxious—"

"Can I ask you to do just one thing for me?" Kurt begged, and Blaine opened his eyes. "Make love to me one more time. Please. Blaine, don't refuse me."

Blaine kept his face emotionless. It was the only thing keeping him from breaking. "Okay," he whispered, sliding off of Kurt and pulling his shirt over his head. "Roll over." Unbuttoning his jeans, Blaine pushed them down his thighs and kicked them off. Left in his boxers, Blaine shivered as the cool air brushed his bare skin. He peeled his boxers off and threw them aside, completely naked in front of Kurt.

"Can I touch you?" Kurt chirped, hesitantly flipping onto his stomach.

Blaine climbed on top of him and pinned his hands above his head, "Wait." He muttered, grabbing the zipper to Kurt's skirt. "I'll lose control if you do." He yanked the zipper down and patted Kurt's bottom, "Lift your hips."

Kurt pointed his bottom at the ceiling, and Blaine dropped the skirt to his knees. Pulling one leg up, Blaine managed to slide it off his legs. He stared at Kurt's spankies, lifting the hem and ripping them in half with one tug of his hands. Pinching Kurt's bottom, Blaine rolled him back over and started on the buttons of Kurt's shirt. "Tear it," Kurt pleaded, lifting his legs and wrapping them around Blaine's hips. "Blaine, I just want to feel you."

Blaine did as he was told and easily ripped the garment, leaving Kurt naked. The sight of Kurt's nude body was still a surprise to Blaine, all of his beautiful curves and pale and pink skin. His hips were wide and his stomach was thin, absolutely no hair smothering his perfect body. Blaine's mouth watered. "How are you mine?" he asked Kurt, slipping his arms underneath him. "You are so beautiful."

"So are you." Kurt ran his fingertips over Blaine's hard arms, warming his skin anywhere he touched. "Do you like it when I touch you?"

"I love it." Blaine choked, "I'm going to miss it, Kurt." Scooting to the bottom of the bed, Blaine touched Kurt when he squeaked. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I just want to savor you… all of you." Lifting Kurt's foot, Blaine pressed his cheek to it. "Cute, little foot…" He kissed Kurt's toes, suckling the smallest one into his mouth.

Kurt sighed and lay back on the pillow as Blaine licked the bottom of his foot. "That feels very good."

Blaine nibbled his ankle, his dark eyes lifting to Kurt's flushed face. Licking the inside of Kurt's leg, Blaine pushed Kurt's leg straight up, his toes pointed at the ceiling. He buried his face in the back of his knee, scraping it with his teeth. "You taste so good…" Blaine growled, "like raspberries and sugar."

Kurt cried out as Blaine tickled the inside of his thigh with his tongue. Sucking on Kurt's soft skin, Blaine lowered Kurt's leg to the bed again and spread his knees as far as they would go. He lifted his head and stared at Kurt's crumpled face, his lips plump and quivering, his trembling lashes on his cheeks.

Dropping between his thighs, Blaine pressed his face to Kurt's chest. He kissed both of his tiny nipples, breathing heavily on his soft skin. "Kurt…" he grumbled. "Kurt…"

"Inside," Kurt stroked Blaine's sweaty hair, "Blaine… inside. I want you inside me."

A tear leaked from the corner of his eyes, "If I get inside you… I won't be able to pull out." He warned him, "Kurt… I won't."

"That's fine." Turning his face into Blaine's hair, Kurt whimpered in his ear. "Maybe it'll be better that way. Then I won't be able to go."

Blaine sobbed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing himself up on his hands. Hovering over Kurt, Blaine pressed his bulky cock against Kurt's little hole. "Kurt." Sliding inside, Blaine shouted and almost fell on top of Kurt. He'd never felt anything so good. "Oh… baby!"

Arching into Blaine, Kurt sobbed and tightened his legs around him. Blaine slammed himself inside, staying like that for a few seconds, not moving, just memorizing the tight heat of Kurt. Tears dripped off his cheeks and fell to Kurt's chest and neck. Shuddering, Blaine drew out and pounded back in, the bed creaking with his jerky movements and smacking the wall.

"Blaine!" Kurt's fingers curled into the pillow, "Blaine, don't pull out again." He pressed his heels into Blaine's ass, keeping him pushed against his prostate. "Stay like this."

Blaine nodded, willing to do anything Kurt said. Leaning down, he nuzzled their lips and stroked Kurt's tongue with his own. "I love you, Kurt."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck and held onto him tightly, "I love you, too. I'll be home soon. Blaine, everything will be alright."

"Kurt…" was all Blaine said, and he lay down beside Kurt. Kurt curled into his chest and sighed, wrapping his arms around him.

"You'll be okay," he whispered. "You'll be fine, Blaine. I promise." Cupping Blaine's face, Kurt kissed his mouth.

Blaine stared over Kurt's head at the clock on his dresser. Morning was coming too soon. He just had a few more hours until Kurt was ripped out of his arms. Kurt might have been so warm, but Blaine felt cold. He wouldn't be okay. He wouldn't be fine. Everything wouldn't be alright. But he kept his mouth shut.

Kurt moved against him, rubbing his cheek on his chest, "Blaine?"

Blaine looked down at him.

"Your hands are shaking." Lifting his eyes to Blaine's face, Kurt frowned, "You're biting your lip."

Blaine wouldn't tell him that he was scared.

He was about to lose his everything… his greatest love.


	65. Roots Before Branches

Author's note: Hi! This chapter took a little longer than I expected. I had no idea it would turn out to be twenty two pages. I have a lot of explaining to do for this chapter. First of all, I want everyone to know that I don't speak French at all. I'd like to, but I don't. And because this is an English story, anyway, I'm going to write the France scenes in English. Just know that when Kurt gets to France, unless it's mentioned otherwise or he's talking to someone in America, just assume he's speaking French even though I'm writing his dialogue in English. So is everyone else in France. Just thought I'd put in here that there is a make out scene in the airport. Also, about Brody, I know there are probably fans of Brody reading this. I don't really have A LOT against Brody, I just don't like him and this is the way I interpreted him on the show. You'll finally get to see a bored Kurt in this chapter, too. I don't think he's ever been bored before... except maybe by Sebastian and Rachel once or twice. He's always doing something to amuse himself! I should have my next chapter up by tomorrow. And here's a random disclaimer: Blaine obviously didn't write Roots Before Branches. The song is sung by/owned by Room For Two. But in this story Blaine writes Roots Before Branches.

Spoilers for the next chapter: There will be a Skype date. Kurt will explore Paris. I might write out exactly what happened the night Everett was killed. Blaine will visit Santana. She will be doing bad things. She will make a comment about a girl she met recently that will upset Blaine.

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: You made me want to buy Kurt a boyfriend arm! I can so see him getting lonely then buying one and calling it Blaine XD or better yet if Blaine got one... When you said you were from Scotland I freaked out because I'm still having trouble believing anyone is reading this, let alone someone on another continent! I don't know, just made me freak out a little bit lol I'm not musical at all, I can't sing/play any instrument but I love music... especially Chris and Darren's. Their voices are so pretty! I just saw Darren's audition for Glee the other day and I flipped out when he started dancing a little... I don't even know why, I've seen him dance a thousand times... but those moments are so special to me! Don't worry, this chapter isn't as sad... at least Kurt has some fun in it. :D

deshaunwalker: Aww! Blaine will figure himself out eventually. He's getting there :)

prosen8966: You're right, I did doubt the love making scene (I always doubt everything I write, it's kind of my thing...) but I'm glad it turned out well. I'm not that good at smut, not that it was really smut right there... it was more of them trying to be close to each other. Blaine and Kurt will still be together, and that's a problem I focus on some in this chapter and something Blaine stresses about several times. I'm really curious about what your theories are! After you said that, I was trying to put my hints together from your point-of-view and I was coming up with all sorts of crazy scenarios. I'm not as sorry that what happened to me did happen. If it hadn't, I probably wouldn't have written half the stories I did (what I went through is the inspiration for a lot of my stories.) But it's mainly physical issues that I have to deal with because of it. Like Blaine, I have an issue with dermatillomania... It's not that severe but it's still a problem I want to get over. There are some other things that were brought on by what I went through, like my perfectionist personality. But, I am so sorry you've dealt with suicidal ideation. Despite how devastating that is, you could really be an inspiration to others and to yourself if you let that come out in whatever talent you have (writing or drawing or even just talking to others-yes, I consider that a talent. Counseling is all about talking to others.) You're a really brave person for revealing all of that, I still get nervous talking to people about what I went through and it happened about three years ago. Thanks for trusting me with all of that :)

* * *

Kurt slipped his charm bracelet on and clipped it, twisting it so the _K_ and _B_ dangled on top of his wrist, almost overlapping each other. "Kurt and Blaine," he said to himself, "Blaine and Kurt." Sighing, he brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt and stood, spinning in the mirror to check his entire outfit.

Below him, he heard stomping and his dad yelling, "Finn, come on! We're leaving for the airport in five minutes! Carole, do you have his plane ticket?"

He put his fingers in his ears and tried to tune them out. He was tired of hearing about it. "Kurt and Blaine. Blaine and Kurt." Blinking as a massive chest blocked his view of the mirror, Kurt looked up at Blaine's hard face. He took his fingers out of his ears, "Hello."

Without a single word, Blaine lifted Kurt's face and pressed their mouths. Kurt sighed and fell against Blaine's chest, going weak in his strong grip. After a few seconds of tasting him, Blaine pushed him away and stood him up straight. He turned and went to the pink suitcase by the door, dragging it out. Kurt wrapped his arms around his stomach, "I want you to talk to me." He whispered to nobody.

He jumped when his dad yelled again, "Kurt, are you ready to go?"

"No." Kurt slid his arm through his purse strap and his two little birds popped their heads out of the holes. "My little sweets. I love you both so much." Kissing both of their beaks, Kurt hesitantly walked to the door and stood by it. He glanced back into his almost bare room, the dressers cleared of his moisturizers and makeup, some of the pictures taken off the walls, and one of the pillows missing from the bed.

He went through a checklist of everything he had, but he couldn't see anything left of his in the room. Tapping his chin, Kurt pulled off his jacket and laid it on the bed. He returned to the closet which he had visited many times that morning to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and he searched through Blaine's shirts. He picked a blue and white button up and pulled it from the hanger, draping it over his shoulders.

He looked around his room again and walked up to one of the dressers, a few picture frames and some of Blaine's cologne on it. Swiping a cologne that Blaine used very often, Kurt unzipped his purse and tucked it in with his birds. "Okay…" he glanced at the door and padded over to it, peeking out of it.

"Kurt!" His dad shouted again, "We don't want to miss your plane!"

With one last glimpse of his bedroom, Kurt snuck into the hallway and scurried down the stairs. "I'm coming."

"Okay…" Carole tapped her pen on a notepad, "He has all of his clothes. Oh, no. His toothbrush. Kurt, do you have your toothbrush?"

"Mm hm." Kurt pointed at the exact pocket in his luggage case that it was in.

"And your socks…" she made a little checkmark by that. Pursing her lips at the next item, she leaned into him and whispered, "Do you have underwear?"

Kurt blushed, "Yes. Carole, I have everything. I went through all of my drawers just an hour ago."

"Oh, good," she set her checklist down. "Burt, it looks like we're ready to go. How are you feeling, Kurt? Nervous?"

Kurt nodded, then quieted as his dad pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'm going to call your Aunt Laurice one more time… just to make sure she's prepared." Before typing in her number, he shouted, "Finn! Let's go!"

Finn kicked the bathroom door open, "Sorry… I was in the bathroom."

Burt frowned, "If your bathroom trips take that long, you need to see a doctor or something." Putting the phone to his ear, Burt grumbled, "Laurice, we're heading to the airport now. Do you have his room ready?"

Carole patted his back, "Come on, let's get you out to the car. You won't get too cold in France, will you? What's the weather like there? Do you need a sweater?" She opened the door and nudged him out of the house.

Laughing, Kurt shook his head, "I'll be fine, I promise." He spied Blaine bending over the back seat, and he looked in the car to see what he was doing. Two little babies looked back at him. Blaine finished strapping Hunter in and stood upright again. His eyes were still dark and hollow as he stared at Kurt.

He finally opened his mouth after a morning of being almost silent, "Your luggage is in the trunk."

"Thank you." was all Kurt said, and he climbed in next to the babies. Blaine boosted him into the car, then followed him and sat down beside him.

Kurt turned to the babies and took a wet rattle from Archer's mouth, shaking it. Archer gurgled and batted at it, wrapping his dimpled fingers around it and sticking it back in his mouth.

Burt and Carole finally opened the front doors and got in, and Finn squeezed through the little gap next to Hunter's car seat and sat in the back. Burt glanced in the rearview mirror at Kurt as he put the car in reverse, "Kurt, are you okay? Don't worry when you get to the airport in Paris. Your aunt should be right at the exit when you get off the plane, and if she's not you should look for the nearest place with food. She'll probably be there."

Despite his nervousness, Kurt managed a giggle, "She always did love to eat what I cooked."

Burt turned a corner, "The woman has quite a stomach."

Carole twisted around and patted Kurt's knee, "Really, Kurt… there's no reason to be nervous. You'll be great in France. You were before. You'll get involved in a new modeling project, and probably a Broadway show… you'll be having so much fun that you won't even notice that you miss us."

Kurt had nothing to say to that, so Carole turned around and mumbled something to Burt. Glancing at Blaine, who was staring out the window, Kurt snuggled into his side and laid his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. After a moment, an arm slid around him and tugged him closer. Blaine pressed a gentle kiss to his hair, "I love you."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine, "I'm not letting go."

"I don't want you to." Blaine pressed his face to the top of Kurt's head. The two of them stayed like that for the rest of the drive, saying absolutely nothing but everything at once.

After a while, the car rocked over a speed bump and Kurt opened his eyes. Burt pulled into the airport parking lot and that was the exact moment that everything really hit Kurt. Tears swelled in his eyes, "Dad… wait." He begged, as if urging him to turn the car around right then and there and drive him back home. "I don't want to go."

Burt sighed and stopped the car in a parking spot, "Kurt, you'll be fine. Everything's already figured out… it's just a year. Your aunt's looking forward to seeing you."

"But I don't want to leave!" Kurt's voice got higher and he dug his heels into the floor. "I want to stay."

"Sweetie," Carole tried to soothe him, "you'll love it in France. Come on, let's get your stuff. We'll walk you inside." Stepping out of the car with Burt, Carole walked around to the trunk and popped it open. Kurt shuddered as he heard the wheels of his luggage hit the ground.

"I made a mistake." Kurt whispered more to himself than anyone else. He felt Finn rub his shoulder.

"Hey, little bro…" Finn slid out of the gap and stepped outside, holding his hand out for Kurt. "It's not that bad. I have a going away present for you."

Kurt stayed in the car, scooting toward Blaine, who hadn't moved. "Blaine, don't make me go." He pleaded and linked their fingers.

"It's your choice," Blaine told him. "You don't have to go, Kurt." When Kurt didn't move, his entire body trembling and his huge eyes flicking from Finn to where Carole and Burt were unloading some of his stuff, Blaine muttered, "Finn, give us a minute."

Finn hesitated, but then he walked away from the open door. Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms, "Kurt, look at me…" Cupping Kurt's small face, Blaine turned his head so he could meet his shimmering eyes. "Baby…"

"Blaine, it's you I want." Kurt hiccupped, tears spilling from his eyes again. "Blaine."

"And you have me," Blaine stroked the tear streaks away with his thumbs. "Kurt, I'm yours. See?" He rubbed Kurt's engagement ring, "Honey, we're going to be married. I don't know when, but I do know why. I fell in love with you, and I'm always going to love you, even if we're a thousand miles apart… even if we don't talk at all over the next year. When you come home, I'm going to love you. You're my sweetheart." Kissing the tip of Kurt's wrinkled nose, Blaine whispered, "You have no idea… how hard it is for me not to be selfish and keep you here. But I know that some part of you wants this… or else you never would have bought a plane ticket. You want to be on stage. You want to model. And I can't keep you from that."

"But I want you more." Burying his face in Blaine's shirt, Kurt mumbled, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You won't be without me." He tilted Kurt's chin and looked into his big, blue eyes. "I told you, we'll Skype every day. I'll call you."

"But I won't be in your arms." Kurt mewled, desperate for Blaine to tell him what to do. He just wanted someone else to tell him if it was okay to leave, if Blaine would be okay without him, if he'd be okay without Blaine.

Blaine's dark eyes filled, and he clutched Kurt tighter, "I know. But try… try to remember this." He rested Kurt against his chest, "What it feels like to be against my chest."

Kurt squeezed Blaine tightly, "What about your kisses?"

"Sweetheart…" Blaine buried his face in Kurt's hair, "I'll send a thousand of them with you." When Kurt didn't pull away from him, Blaine whispered, "You just have to know that this isn't the end of us. You'll come home in a year… and I'll still be here, Kurt. And when you come back, I'll kiss you and hold you for as long as you need."

Kurt blinked, "You want me to go?"

Blaine cleared his throat, "I know what I want… but I'd be an ass if I made you stay. Kurt, you can't give up Broadway and fashion for me."

Sniffing, Kurt rubbed his puffy eyes, "What about you? What will you do?"

He shrugged, "I'll take care of the babies. I like doing that." Stroking Kurt's cheek, Blaine kissed his forehead, "You don't have to worry about me." Turning away from Kurt, Blaine unbuckled Hunter and scooped him up in one arm. He grabbed Archer with the other.

Burt hit the side of the car, "Come on, Kurt. We'll get you checked in."

Kurt nervously curled his fingers into his shirt. Pushing open his door as Blaine climbed out on the other side, Kurt scurried around the car and met Blaine in front of it. He instantly grabbed his arm. "This place is much bigger than what I remember. I feel lost."

"You're fine, kiddo." Burt rubbed his back.

His family remained in silence for the rest of the walk inside, his dad looking up at the arrows pointing to luggage pickup, bathrooms, and check-in desks. "Okay, there's the plane Kurt's taking." His dad stepped away from them. "I'll go get him checked in."

After his dad walked up to the desk and started showing a woman paperwork, Finn touched Kurt's shoulder, "Hey, Kurt… here's your present." Fishing his wallet out of his pocket, he opened it and pulled out a picture cut in the shape of his locket. He showed it to Kurt, "It's one of the entire family. See? Even your birds and the babies are in it."

Kurt took the tiny picture and looked at it. His dad and Carole had their arms around each other, and Blaine was standing in the middle with Pavarotti and Everett on his shoulder and the babies in his arms. Finn was beside Blaine, his arm around him. Kurt's eyes swelled with tears and his lips trembled. He handed the picture back to Finn before any of his tears fell onto it. "It's beautiful, Finn. I have the most wonderful family."

Finn grabbed Kurt's locket and popped it open, sliding the tiny picture inside. "There… now you can have us with you in France." Closing the locket back up again, Finn kept it in his fingers and sniffed, his own eyes becoming damp. "I'm going to miss you, little bro."

That struck a tender nerve in Kurt and he covered his face as more tears spilled from his eyes. Finn wrapped his arms around him, "Sorry… I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Oh, sweetie," Carole bundled both Finn and Kurt in her arms, "you've cried so much that you shouldn't have any tears left. Come here." Wiping Kurt's pink face with a tissue, she stuck a pile of them in his palm. "There. Just in case you haven't gotten all of your tears out yet."

Burt returned with a packet of paperwork that he was sticking in his jacket pocket, "It's all set. Kurt, you see that woman over there?" He pointed to a woman waiting by a pole. "She'll take care of you… get you on the plane. Whenever you're ready, honey."

"Burt, give him a minute." Carole censured, rubbing Kurt's arms. "We're not rushing you, sweetie. Take all the time you need."

Kurt wiped his eyes with another tissue, stumbling into his dad's arms. "Dad," he hiccupped.

"Shh…" Burt gathered Kurt up, "everything will be okay, Kurt. You'll be happy in France. It's where you belong. I'm so damned proud of you for all your dreams."

"I love you," Kurt whispered.

"I love you, too, kiddo." Peeling Kurt off his chest, Burt kissed the top of his head.

Kurt finally turned and looked at Blaine, who was staring at the ground and swallowing thickly. "Blaine?" Taking a step toward him, Kurt unzipped his purse and let his little birds step onto his fingers. He gave them both kisses before holding them out to Blaine. "I want you to keep Pavarotti and Everett."

Pavarotti and Everett chirped and wiggled.

Blaine shook his head, "Sweetheart—"

"Please?" Kurt set them on his shoulder, "Blaine, you'll have more time for them. I'll be busy with photo shoots and interviews and… you just have to take them. They'll feel lonely all the time if they stay with me." Trembling, Kurt kissed Archer's pudgy cheek. "I love you, Archer. I won't be able to see you grow up but I can't wait to see you when you're a year old."

Kurt turned to Hunter and squeezed his little feet, kissing his forehead. "You'll be happy with Blaine, I promise."

Lifting his eyes to Blaine's hard face, Kurt frowned as a tear flirted with Blaine's lashes then spilled onto his cheek. Another one fell, then another. "Blaine." He whispered, reaching up and cupping Blaine's face. His stubble scratched the soft spots under Kurt's fingers. Blaine turned his head and kissed Kurt's palm.

Standing on his toes, Kurt pressed his body to Blaine's and touched their lips. Blaine was as still as a statue against him. "Blaine…" Kurt opened his mouth on Blaine's, "kiss me back. Please… kiss me back."

Blaine shuddered and rubbed his mouth on Kurt's. Whimpering, Kurt deepened the kiss with a lick of his tongue, "I love you, Blaine Anderson."

Sobbing, Blaine tore away and rubbed his eyes. Kurt tugged him back and pressed their lips again, "It's okay… don't be sad. Tell me you love me."

Blaine moaned, laying his cheek on Kurt's shoulder, "You know I do… you're my everything. You're my greatest love. I love you… Kurt Hummel. I love you so much." Kissing Kurt's shoulder, Blaine blew out heavily and backed up a step. "I'll be here when you get home. I'll be here for you… I'll wait for you. I'll still love you."

Kurt took a deep breath, his huge eyes on Blaine's crumpled face, "I'll miss you." Hearing a call for his plane to start boarding, Kurt waved at his family and wrapped his arms around his stomach. "Goodbye."

All of them stood completely still as Kurt turned and wandered away, heading toward the girl by the pole. She smiled and said something to him, guiding him to the entrance to the plane. Kurt glanced over his shoulder one more time, then he disappeared down the hallway. Carole took a deep breath, "I hope he's alright."

Burt wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "He'll be just fine. He's good at making friends and he likes his aunt. He'll be okay."

Finn glanced at Blaine's emotionless face, "How do you feel, bro?"

Blaine's answer was very flat, "Don't ask me that right now."

Sighing, Carole slid her purse onto her shoulder and started heading towards the doors, "Come on, guys. Let's get going."

Burt followed her, but Blaine stayed exactly where he was. Finn hesitantly remained beside him, torn between following his parents and worrying about Blaine. "Dude… let's go."

Blaine's bottom lip quivered and he dug his heels into the floor. Suddenly, a little figure darted out of the hallway and ran straight toward Blaine. "Blaine!" Kurt squeaked, almost tripping on his skirt. He jumped onto Blaine and rested his cheek on his chest, "I love you."

Blaine's knees almost caved and he lassoed Kurt in his arms, "I love you, too." Kissing Kurt's cheeks and lips, Blaine held him tight. "Kurt, what are you doing?"

"I just had to see you one more time." He murmured, clinging to Blaine's neck. "Why are you still standing here? I was worried I wouldn't see you… that you'd already walked away."

Blaine shook his head, "Maybe I was thinking that you'd do something like this." He nuzzled Kurt's face with his own, "And I didn't want to miss it."

A loudspeaker interrupted them, "Last call for boarding to Paris, France."

Kurt reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides, "I have to go. I love all of you." Kissing Blaine again, Kurt whispered, "I'll call you tonight. I'll want to hear your voice."

"I'll keep my phone with me for as long as it takes until you call." Blaine assured him. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Kurt pressed their mouths and slid his tongue into Blaine's mouth, tasting him and memorizing the warmth of his lips, the way his tongue always tickled the bottom of Kurt's then poked the tip. Moaning, Kurt touched Blaine's face and felt his cheeks become hollow every time he took a breath. He memorized the stubble on Blaine's jaw, the roughness and scratchiness of it.

Blaine shuddered and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He forced his tongue further into Kurt's mouth. Kurt didn't want to stop to breathe, but he felt himself getting lightheaded. Or maybe that was just what Blaine was doing to him. Finally, he realized that he hadn't inhaled for about thirty seconds so he parted their lips to catch his breath.

Blaine quickly tugged him back in, "Mm… don't." Biting Kurt's bottom lip so he couldn't escape that time, Blaine licked Kurt's tongue, making it impossible for Kurt to think about anything except Blaine's talented lips.

The loudspeaker startled Kurt from his focus on Blaine's mouth, "Final call for boarding to Paris, France. Final call."

Kurt tightened his arms around Blaine, "Blaine…"

Blaine lifted his head from kissing Kurt's jaw, and he looked devastated. "I love you." He said for the last time, and Kurt shook his head.

"I love you…" Managing to slide his hands off of Blaine's arms, Kurt trembled to fall against him and forget about everything except him. "Blaine."

"Kurt." Blaine muttered, shuddering as he let go of Kurt. His fingers curled and he boosted the babies higher up on his chest, his dark eyes never drifting from Kurt's weepy face. "Kurt."

He started to go after Kurt when he turned and padded back to the hallway leading to the plane, but Finn grabbed his shoulder. "Don't."

Kurt stepped into the hallway, glancing over his shoulder as two men closed the doors behind him. "I love you," he mouthed, tears falling from his eyes. He turned and walked down the hallway, and the doors slammed shut.

A horrific sound ripped from Blaine's throat. He was sure he would have collapsed to the floor had he not had the babies in his arms. Finn rubbed his back, and Blaine jerked away from him. "Don't touch me."

Burt groaned, "Blaine, don't do this. We're all dealing with not having him anymore—"

Blaine shoved Finn away when he went to grab him again, "He was all I had, Burt!" He almost yelled, "Fuck you if you don't get that!" Running in the opposite direction that the car was, Blaine clutched his babies and darted into one of the single bathrooms where he could be alone.

Shutting himself inside, Blaine set his babies on the changing counter and dropped to the floor. He sat on his heels and shoveled his fingers into his hair. Violent tears burst out of him, shaking him so hard he felt like he had to throw up.

His heart was breaking. He'd lost his everything… his greatest love.

* * *

Kurt stepped onto the plane and followed the girl to a row near the middle, glancing at everything as he passed it. "Here you go," she pointed to an empty row. "Your purse can go up there. You can turn that TV on. Be sure to ask for anything. Can I get you a drink to start with?"

"Mm…" Kurt patted his unsettled stomach, "do you have warm milk?"

Her brows furrowed, "Warm… milk? No, but we could heat it up in our microwave."

Kurt managed a smile, "Could I have a cup, please?"

"Yes. Is there anything else you need?" She started to back away, and when he shook his head she turned around and headed to the front of the plane.

Looking up at the overhead bin, Kurt stretched on his toes and tried to open it, but it was stuck. He pushed a little harder, alarmed when another hand reached up and lifted it for him. "Those things can be tricky." The person who helped him chuckled, taking his purse from him and swinging it up. He shoved his own bag up there and closed it back, then shot a smile at Kurt. "Hi there."

Blinking at the man, Kurt said, "Hello."

The man, who Kurt thought might have been twenty or so, held his strong hand out, "My name's Brody, in case you didn't know that already."

Kurt hesitantly draped his hand over the man's, and he chuckled again, "Oh, right. You don't shake." He laid his hand under Kurt's.

"How did you know that?" Kurt curled his fingers and took his hand away. "Oh… um… I'm sorry, I'm—"

"Kurt Hummel." The man—Brody—threw himself down in Kurt's row, sprawling out in the window seat. "And that's how I knew. You're a model… Broadway singer… yeah, everybody knows who you are."

Kurt sat down in the seat next to Brody's, "Are you… French? You have an accent."

"Yeah, I live in Paris." Brody held his hand up and examined his fingernails, then he shook his head, "Do you have hand sanitizer? You never know what's in these disgusting airports."

Kurt shook his head, "No… I don't have any."

"Funny that you don't." Brody snorted, wiping his hand on his pants. "You are a model, after all. Models have to have perfect hands." When Kurt didn't say anything, he raised his brows and cleared his throat, "Anyway, I'm Brody Weston. I'm a famous Broadway singer. I've directed at least ten shows, performed in seventeen shows, and I was just asked to star as a lead role… not that it's big news. That happens all the time."

"Oh," Kurt smiled at him, "that's very impressive." Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Kurt tried to listen to something else Brody was saying but he was too distracted. He glanced up when Brody stopped talking, and he followed his eyes to his screensaver.

"Who's that guy?" Brody pointed at Blaine, who was kissing Kurt's cheek in the picture. "And who does his hair? It looks like a mess."

Kurt frowned, "He's my fiancé."

Brody's humored expression instantly died, "Oh… your fiancé? I didn't know you were engaged." He glanced at Kurt's left hand, "Hm… that's a nice ring you've got there. He could have done better. I bought my last boyfriend a ring that cost about ten times as much as he probably spent on that."

Trying to ignore the insult, Kurt hid his ring by pressing it to his thigh, "Oh… are you two still engaged?"

"We were never engaged." Brody laughed as if Kurt was ridiculous, "Brody Weston can't be tied down, sweet cheeks. I bought him stuff so he would sleep with me."

Shocked, Kurt pressed his fingertips to his lips, but before he could say anything the girl returned with his warm milk. "Is this warm enough?" She handed it to him.

He sipped it and sighed as it warmed his upset stomach, "It's wonderful, thank you." Drinking from the cup, Kurt felt Brody's eyes on his face. "Did you want a cup? It's very good."

Brody grimaced, "No, I actually think that's gross." Leaning back in his seat, Brody crossed his arms, "So, anyway, as I was saying… this guy walks up to me and he asks me to be in this movie and I'm like… come on, bro, you've got to tell me where we're filming and who you're casting. And you know what the guy says?"

Kurt didn't know what he was talking about but he played along, "What?"

"Justin Timberlake." He snorted so loudly that a couple of people glared at him. "And I'm like… but he's an amateur in film making. He's only been in, what, three movies? Brody Weston doesn't work with amateurs."

"Mm hm." Kurt nodded.

Brody went on as if Kurt hadn't made a sound, "And then the next day Justin Timberlake's manager calls me and he's talking about how he'll sue me if I put a bad name on Justin in the media. And I'm like… bro, chill out. But then he…"

Kurt glanced out the window when the plane shuddered and started rolling. He squeezed his arm rest, "Oh…"

Distracted from his complaining, Brody frowned at Kurt, "Are you scared of flying?"

Kurt shook his head, "No… it's just hard to leave Ohio."

"You can't be serious." Checking his nails again, Brody rolled his eyes. "I was just on tour here for today. I couldn't wait to get back to Paris. Touring in Italy, Australia… and even Las Vegas wasn't so bad, but Ohio was just terrible. I tried to convince my manager to take it off the tour list, but he said it'd look good for my public image… hanging out with those little fans that aren't really necessary but make up about a thousand or so of my millions of followers on Twitter."

Kurt looked at Brody for a few minutes, wondering if his ego was really that big or if he was playing a joke on Kurt. Brody, who had gone on talking about a bad experience at a fancy restaurant, noticed Kurt looking at him and winked. "If you want to see anymore, I'll take my shirt off."

Kurt turned bright red, "No, thank you." Flicking his eyes to his lap, Kurt rubbed his stomach, "I'm getting hungry. I think I'll ask if they have cheesecake."

"Gross," Brody grumbled. "I thought you were a model. Don't models have to stay thin?"

Kurt blushed again, "But I like cheesecake… especially with warm strawberries and sugar. Yummy."

"Apparently you're not like other models." Rolling his eyes for what Kurt was sure wouldn't be the last time, Brody held a finger up. "That reminds me… obviously you've heard of Kim Kardashian… oh, this one is really good…"

Kurt swallowed a yawn and he rested his cheek on his fist, turning his head so Brody couldn't see him so tired. He was so sleepy. Noticing a woman sitting in the row next to his, Kurt peeped, "Excuse me, do you know how long this plane trip is?"

The woman looked up from wiping her son's mouth and smiled at him, "I think it's about seven to eight hours. I'm sorry for being so blunt… but I think you are so pretty. I love your outfit."

"Thank you," Kurt managed to curve his lips. "I like your shoes."

Pointing at his ring, the woman murmured, "He is a very lucky man."

Kurt giggled, "I'm luckier than he is." Wiggling deeper into his seat, Kurt closed his eyes and dreamt about Blaine.

* * *

Finn knocked on the bathroom door again, "Blaine, are you okay?" Pushing open the door, Finn peeked inside and frowned at Blaine, who was sobbing into a pile of tissues. "Blaine, come on. We've got to leave. Pull yourself together."

He walked past Blaine and picked up the babies, "I get that you miss him… but this is ridiculous. Get up." Kicking Blaine's leg, Finn handed the babies to Burt and Carole and dragged Blaine up. He almost carried him through the airport, and when they got to their car he threw Blaine inside.

"Give me the babies," Blaine growled, taking them against his chest when Carole handed them over.

"Blaine, sweetie, are you alright?" Carole asked after she got in the passenger side.

Blaine didn't say a word, his dark eyes glaring out the window. For the entire trip home he stayed like that, huddled against the window, not a noise out of him. No one bothered consoling him. They knew it was no use trying to bring Blaine back to himself.

After twenty minutes, Burt pulled into their driveway and shut the car off. "Okay, um… let's wait to hear from Kurt to see how he's doing."

Blaine stepped out of the car and shuffled into the house, keeping the babies on his shoulders. Pavarotti and Everett grabbed onto his shirt tightly so they wouldn't fall off. Storming up the stairs, Blaine pushed open his door and glanced inside. His room was stripped of everything he loved. It seemed too big now. He had space to set things on the dressers now that all of Kurt's moisturizers were gone, and the walls were too bare.

He noticed a little, white jacket on the bed and picked it up, glitter falling onto his fingers. Laying the babies on his bed, Blaine sniffed the jacket and got a whiff of Kurt. "Kurt…" he whispered. "Kurt." He fell to the bed and curled into a ball around his babies, crying into the soft mattress that still smelled like Kurt. His little birds hopped off of him and nipped his hair.

Archer mumbled and patted Blaine's chest, and Blaine looked down at his baby. His blue eyes wrinkled and he gurgled at Blaine, tugging his bowtie. "Don't be scared… I'm just a little sad." Blaine whispered to him, kissing his cheek.

Batting at Blaine, Archer curled into his chest and closed his eyes. Hunter pressed his face into Archer's back, his brown eyes staring up at Blaine.

Blaine laid his cheek on his bed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He closed his fist around it and closed his eyes, then he waited. "You said you'll call me… you said you wanted to hear my voice… I'll wait for hours…"

* * *

Kurt opened his eyes and stretched as his plane smacked the ground. The loudspeaker alerted him when someone muttered into it, "We are now arriving in Paris, France. Enjoy your stay." Lifting his head, Kurt rubbed his eyes and glanced around, but all he could see out the window were the plane lights gleaming through the blanket of darkness.

Beside him, Brody moved and shuffled past him, "You know, you're cute when you sleep. But you kept talking. I'm guessing Blaine is your fiancé?"

"Hm?" Kurt lifted his eyes to Brody as he opened the overhead bin and pulled out his bag, then Kurt's purse. He handed it to him. "Oh… I'm sorry. I usually don't talk in my sleep." Standing, Kurt followed Brody into the aisle.

"No big deal," Brody shrugged. "Hey, I took your phone while you were sleeping and added my number. You should give me a call sometime… or visit the Rogue Theatre. I work there. Can I see you around sometime?"

Kurt smiled reassuringly as he stepped off the plane, "I'd like that, thank you." Slipping his purse onto his arm, Kurt exited the plane hallway and glanced around for his aunt. He spotted her a couple feet away. "Oh… I'm sorry, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Brody."

"You, too." Brody winked at him. "Remember, you've got to call me!"

Brushing his outfit off, Kurt spun around and rushed up to his aunt, "Aunt Laurice!"

She squealed loud enough for the people on the next continent to hear her, "My little Kurt! Come here and give your aunt a big hug." Pulling him into her arms, she rubbed his back. "Look at you. As pretty as your mama. You've filled out nicely. Has my brother-in-law been feeding you right?"

"I've been eating just fine." He promised her, "And what about you? Have you been eating well?"

She smiled and wrapped her arm around him, "I've been going out with friends to these nice restaurants, but none of them make food as good as you. But, Kurt, look at you! Your cheeks are rosy and you have a sparkle in your eye. You must have liked Ohio, then. Tell me all that happened."

Kurt blushed, "If you must know… I met a man."

"A _man?_" She made a sound like she'd just seen a delicious food. "Not even a boy. And what happened with this man of yours?"

Lifting his left hand, Kurt laughed as she squealed again. "Kurt, you're wearing a ring!"

"We got engaged." He pulled out his phone and opened it, startled when he saw a text from his newest contact. "Oh… I'm sorry…" He clicked out of that.

"Is his name Brody?" she nudged him.

"Oh, no." Kurt shook his head, "I just met him on the plane." He pointed at his screensaver, "This is him… his name is Blaine. Isn't he handsome?"

"Mm," she took his phone from him and looked closer at the picture, "that is one hunk of a man. Well, tell me about him. What's he like? Does he have lots of ex-boyfriends? Do I get to talk to him on the phone? I'd like to hear his voice… I bet it's deep and manly."

Flushing, Kurt covered his face, "Aunt Laurice, you're making me blush. Well… he's very kind and gentle. He's quiet, but he does have an amazing voice and laugh. He's a singer, too. He loves me very much… and I love him. His brother just had a baby and he's raising him for now, and a good friend of ours just gave him her baby. He's very good with children."

"Sounds like you've got yourself a good man." She guided him out to the parking lot and through the maze of cars.

Kurt nodded, "Yes… I do. I miss him very much, Aunt Laurice. Do you mind if I have some time to myself to call him when I get home? I need to hear his voice."

"Sweetie, of course you can." She opened his door for him, "I know you're tired and probably want to talk to everyone back in Ohio. You can do all of your unpacking later. Do you want me to make you a glass of warm milk before you go to bed?"

"That would be very nice." Kurt turned on the radio and smiled as one of his favorite songs came on. "I forgot about this one. It's been so long since I've heard anyone sing in French."

"Mm hm…" she backed out of the parking lot and pulled onto the main road. "You used to hum along with it. You were such a good singer. Do you still keep up your singing?"

"Yes." He murmured, "I was in a glee club at my school."

"Good for you, sweetie." Turning a corner, she pointed at a little shop. "Do you remember that ice cream store? I used to take you to it every weekend. You always ordered strawberry."

"Oh, I'm so glad it's still open!" Kurt squeaked, turning around to admire it. "I almost didn't recognize it with its new design. They made good ice cream." He glanced at more of the stores, "Oh, I remember all of these! My mom bought me a tiara for my birthday every year in that boutique shop."

"Mm hm," his aunt nodded. "You always loved getting those. Your dad would take pictures of you strutting around with those on. We would have a laugh at them."

Kurt smiled, "Do you think we can visit the boutique shop and ice cream store again?"

"Anytime you want." She turned onto a narrow street and pulled into a driveway. "This is it… the same house you grew up in. I got your room ready. I redecorated a little… I hope you like pink and white."

Nervously stepping out of the car, Kurt listened to his aunt pulling his luggage out of the back of her car. He stared up at his little home. "Go on in, Kurt." She encouraged him.

Humming, he walked up the steps and pushed open the door. The floor creaked under his feet, the same creaking he remembered from a year ago. Baby pictures of him were hung up in the hallways. He smelled cinnamon and apples. "I know it needs some dusting off," she commented, leaving his luggage at the bottom of the stairs. "But it has everything you'll need… a TV, a laptop, a couple of windows. I think it's alright."

"It's perfect… exactly how I remember." He started toward the stairs, "Can I go see my room?"

"Sure… just walk up and turn right. I'm sure you know that, though. I'll fix you a cup of warm milk and make some coffee for myself. Let me know if you want coffee. Are you hungry? I can put on some oatmeal." She walked past the stairs and stopped by the kitchen.

"I am hungry," Kurt touched his stomach. "Oatmeal sounds nice."

"Okay, sweetie." She disappeared into the kitchen.

Scurrying upstairs, Kurt turned the corner and opened his door. His room here wasn't half the size of his room in Ohio, but it was cozy and warm. His walls were white with little roses painted on them. The only thing on his dresser was a music box. His bed was in the corner, facing a small TV.

Walking deeper into the room, Kurt opened his curtains and stared at the city outside his window. He rubbed his sleeve on the dusty glass and pulled his phone out, snapping a quick picture of the busy city, lights still twinkling and horns honking. "It's not Ohio," he whispered to himself, turning around and sitting on his bed.

He opened his phone again and stared at his screen saver, tears filling his eyes as he gazed at Blaine's face. "I miss you." Kissing the picture of Blaine, Kurt put his phone down. He opened the text from Brody. "Hey, sweet cheeks. What are you wearing?" He read it out loud and frowned at it.

He didn't bother replying and instead lay down on his bed, typing in a very familiar number. It didn't ring for more than two seconds before he heard a click, "Kurt?"

Kurt almost started crying, "I hear your voice. Please, keep talking. I like the sound of it."

Blaine sounded breathless, and Kurt could hear blankets rustling, "Sweetheart… it's me. Where are you? What are you doing? Oh, Kurt. Baby."

Kurt kissed his phone again, as if Blaine could somehow feel it, "I'm in my house. Oh, Blaine, it's so pretty here. You should see it… You'd love it. I remember all the shops and all the streets."

"Are you happy?" Blaine asked him, and Kurt nodded then remembered that Blaine couldn't see him.

"Yes, I'm very happy." Biting his bottom lip, Kurt whispered, "I just miss you."

"I miss you, too." Blaine's voice lowered, "I'm counting the seconds until I can hold you in my arms again. I miss your kisses… and feeling your arms around me… and seeing your smile." There was another shuffling sound, then what sounded like a baby gurgling.

Kurt wiped his wet eyes, "How are the babies? How are Pavarotti and Everett? What about the rest of the family?"

"Everyone's fine, Kurt." Blaine whispered, "The babies just woke up from a nap… and Pavarotti and Everett went somewhere… probably exploring. You know how they are. But everything's fine. They're sad… but I think they're okay. How is your aunt?"

"She's great." Kurt grinned, "I told her about you. She's excited… she wants to meet you. She said that you're a hunk of a man."

For the first time that day, Blaine laughed, "Tell her I said thank you." He got quiet as another baby mewled, then he said, "Kurt."

Kurt swallowed, another tear streaking down his face, "I don't want to be without you anymore."

"I'm still here." Blaine whispered. "I still love you. I promise you, Kurt, I'm not going anywhere. This hurts but I know I'll have you back one day."

Closing his eyes, Kurt murmured, "Blaine, I love you. Your voice is so soothing."

His aunt knocked on his door, and Kurt looked up at her, "Kurt, sweetie, I have your oatmeal on the counter. Make sure you eat it before it gets cold."

"Mm hm," Kurt said to her, then he returned his attention to the phone. "My aunt made me oatmeal. I have to go eat. Can I Skype with you tomorrow morning?"

"Yes." Blaine muttered, "You sound tired."

"I could fall asleep right now." Kurt agreed, yawning as he thought of laying his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.

Blaine sniffed, "I'll Skype you in the morning. Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you so much."

"Sleep tight," Kurt whispered, then remembered that it was earlier in Ohio. "I love you, Blaine." He didn't want to hang up, and neither did Blaine, so they remained in silence for a few minutes. Kurt finally whispered, "Blaine?"

Blaine's voice was so quiet that Kurt almost didn't hear him, "Yeah?"

Kurt didn't know what to say. He sniffled and wiped his teary eyes, "I want to keep listening to your voice."

"You don't have to hang up, Kurt." Blaine assured him, "Leave your phone on. I won't hang up."

"You promise?" Kurt set his phone down but kept his face close to it so he could hear Blaine's reply.

"Yeah," was all Blaine said. "I'll make you feel better, sweetheart. Go eat… you're probably hungry."

Kurt pressed a kiss to his phone, "Okay. Thank you, Blaine." Scooting off his bed, Kurt ran out of his bedroom and down the stairs. He hurried into the kitchen, "Oh, the oatmeal smells so good!"

"It should." His aunt scooted the bowl toward him. "I'm the best oatmeal maker in the city." Sitting down across from him, his aunt rested her elbows on the table, "Was that Blaine, sweetie?"

"Mm hm." He took a drink of his warm milk. "It was nice hearing his voice."

She smiled, "He's good to you, isn't he?" Stroking his hair off his forehead as he scooped a hot bite into his mouth, she said, "Your eyes sparkle whenever you hear his name, just like your mom's whenever she heard your dad's name."

Blushing, Kurt took another drink. "He's wonderful to me. I'm going to Skype with him tomorrow morning."

She tapped under his chin, "I'm starting to think you love this Blaine guy a little too much. You haven't once mentioned modeling or Broadway. It's all about Blaine with you."

"I love him, Aunt Laurice." He said without hesitation, "He's everything to me. Not even Broadway or modeling makes me feel the way he does. He makes me so dizzy and then my cheeks get red and my hands tremble."

She arched a brow at him, "Sounds like you've really got the itch for him. I remember when your mom was like this. She was just a teenager… we were sharing a room and I'd get so mad and throw pillows at her because she'd stay up all night talking about your dad. She was so jittery about him."

Kurt giggled, resting his chin on the counter, "He's all I can think about, Aunt Laurice. I miss him so much." Lifting his eyes to her gentle face, he whispered, "Did I make a mistake leaving him?"

She sighed and smoothed his hair, "I don't know the answer to that, sweetie. If you want to go back, you can. I won't stop you. You know, your mom wanted to go back quite a few times. After she met Burt and had you, it was like she'd lost interest in Broadway. But why don't you give it a few more weeks? If you really miss him, I'll buy you a plane ticket." Kissing the top of his head, she murmured, "You look sleepy. Why don't you go up to bed? You'll be able to think about it clearer if you're not as tired."

"Mm…" Kurt slid off his stool. "Thank you, Aunt Laurice. Goodnight."

"Hey, Kurt?" She said before he left the room. "Why didn't he just come with you? Ohio can't be _that_ interesting to him."

Kurt shrugged, "It's… complicated. He has some things to figure out… and I understand. I'm not mad at him."

"Okay," she nodded. "Goodnight, sweetie. I'll see you bright and early."

Kurt smiled, "Aunt Laurice, can I make breakfast in the morning? Cooking soothes me."

She grinned, "Cook away, my friend. It'll be nice taking a break from the kitchen and having a taste of your cooking. I've missed that the most… that and your hugs." Standing from her stool, she walked up to him and wrapped him in her arms. "Sleep tight, Kurt."

"Goodnight," he chirped, slipping out of her grip and going back to the stairs. He grabbed his suitcase and dragged it up behind him, finally managing to pull it into his room. Closing his door, Kurt unzipped it and picked a pair of satin pajamas.

He slipped out of his clothes and pulled on his pajamas, then slid under his pink blankets. Checking his phone, Kurt sighed when he saw that the call was still on. "Blaine?" he whispered just to see if he was there.

Almost immediately, he replied, "Yeah?"

Kurt smiled, kissing the phone a few more times, "I'm going to sleep."

"Goodnight, baby." Blaine whispered, "I love you."

Kurt snuggled into his pillow, "Goodnight, Blaine. I love you."

* * *

Blaine didn't know how long he laid there listening to Kurt's soft breathing. He didn't want to make a sound for fear that he would stir Kurt, so he just laid there listening. He liked hearing him breath… liked knowing that somewhere in Paris Kurt was sleeping peacefully, maybe dreaming of him. Suddenly, Kurt made a soft, sweet sound and then there were rustling blankets. "Blaine…" Kurt whispered, and at first Blaine thought he'd woken up, but then he heard that gentle breathing again.

He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around Archer and Hunter, barely aware of someone opening his door. "Blaine, are you hungry?" Carole walked into his room and set a bowl on his dresser. He quickly muted his side of the phone so Kurt wouldn't hear. "I made potato soup."

Blaine remained quiet, waiting for her to leave. When she realized he wasn't going to talk, she frowned and walked partially out of the room again. "Okay… you don't have to say anything right now."

After she closed the door behind her, Blaine unmuted his phone and sniffed at the soup. His stomach gurgled and cramped. He remembered that he hadn't eaten anything all day. Sliding his legs off the bed, Blaine grabbed the soup off his dresser and took a bite. His stomach was still upset so it was hard getting it down, but Blaine managed to force in a few more bites.

Setting the unfinished bowl down, Blaine sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck. He didn't know what to do. The babies and his birds were asleep so he scratched out doing anything with them, and he didn't want to take a shower because that would give him too much time to think. He didn't want to think about things or else he'd start crying again. He needed to keep himself busy.

He rolled his eyes as a stupid idea dusted itself off in his head, but he went over to his dresser and grabbed a sheet of paper and pencil, anyway. He couldn't remember what he did with the one Schuester had given him… maybe he threw it away. Sliding onto his bed, Blaine sat on the pillow and scratched lines across the paper.

Filling in random notes he thought contrasted well, Blaine accidentally stabbed his pencil through the paper and he swore. "This is stupid," he threw the pencil and paper on the floor, crossing his arms. He glanced around his room for something else to do, and he saw Archer and Hunter's teddy bear on the floor.

Swinging his legs off the bed, Blaine bent and grabbed it, dusting it off. He squeezed it and felt lumps of cotton inside the bear that had become thin and ragged after so many years. He straightened the bear's bowtie and flipped him upside down, then he noticed something on his foot. Grabbing the dangling foot, Blaine looked at what was sewn into the pad. "To Kurt. Love Mommy." He said aloud, then he sighed. Resting the bear on his lap, Blaine glanced at the paper again.

He laid the bear next to Archer, who mewled and wrapped his pudgy arms around it. Blaine stood and walked up to the paper, kneeling beside of it. He scratched in the next note he thought would be good with the last one, then lifted his hand as if he'd been burned.

He touched the first note and hummed, "So many things…" Jotting down a few more notes, Blaine muttered, "to do and say… but I can't seem to find my way." He struggled through the next notes, but eventually found a rhythm. The words came easily, almost too simply, and he quickly ripped them out on the paper as he came up with them.

He wrote for a long time. His pencil snapped a few times and he scribbled things out and wrote new words, and sometimes the notes clashed. But it kept him busy and when he finished writing he almost didn't want to stop.

Staring at what he'd done, Blaine grabbed it in his fist and started to crumple it up, then he remembered the promise he made to Schuester, and Blaine tried hard not to break promises. He knew how badly betrayal hurt himself. Folding the paper up, Blaine got to his feet and stretched, then he returned to his little babies. Kissing both of their foreheads, Blaine scooped them up and laid them in their crib just in case they rolled off his bed.

"I'll be back soon, sweethearts." Blaine rubbed Archer's little stomach, and he yawned and batted at Blaine. "Shh… I love you."

He turned away and stuck the paper in his back pocket, grabbing his phone as he strode out of his room. When he got downstairs and headed for the door, he was stopped by Burt's low voice, "Where are you going?"

"Out." Blaine muttered, turning the handle. "Watch the babies for me." He pushed open the door and stepped outside, walking toward his car. He slid into the front seat and turned the car on, then backed out of his driveway.

He set his phone on his lap and listened to more blankets rustling, then a little sigh. "I love you," Blaine whispered into the phone, turning onto another road and trying to remember where Schuester's house was.

He found it after about ten minutes and pulled into his driveway. Setting his phone on his seat, Blaine stepped out of his car and walked up to Schuester's door. Hesitantly knocking, Blaine listened to shuffling from within and what he thought might be Emma asking if they were having company.

A few seconds later the door opened, revealing a confused Emma. "Blaine Anderson?" she murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to give Schuester something." When she gestured for him to come in, he stepped past her and glanced around the simple house. It smelled strongly of flowers, and everything was in order. Knick-knacks covered nearly every surface in the living room.

Schuester appeared from down a hallway, and his jaw dropped, "Blaine, it's so good to see you. Come on in. Did you bring Kurt with you?"

"No." Blaine shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the couch closest to the door. "He left for France this morning."

Emma sat down beside of him, "Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry. I know how much he means to you."

"Yeah," Schuester sat down opposite of them. "He was such a good kid. I really liked having him in glee club. But what are… is there something you need? Did you just come to tell us that?"

Blaine pulled the paper from his pocket, "You wanted me to write a song."

Schuester furrowed his brows and stood, coming up to Blaine to take it from him. "Wow… I thought you'd forgotten. For a while I forgot myself. When did you write it?"

"An hour ago." Blaine muttered.

Unfolding it, Schuester looked over it and whispered, "This is impressive, Blaine. I can really see a lot of you in it. Unfortunately I can't put it on any glee club extra credit… but I'm proud of you. Thank you for writing this… it means a lot that you cared enough to do it."

Blaine shrugged, "It was for me, too."

Schuester handed it back to Blaine, "I want you to keep this. It's important." Sitting down beside of Blaine, Schuester said, "So, how are you doing? Are you looking into colleges? Have you gotten yourself a job? If you need one, you can be a teacher's assistant for me in glee club next year."

"I'm not looking for a job." Blaine rested his chin on his fist, "My brother had his baby and Santana gave me Brittany's baby so I'm taking care of them right now."

"That's great," Schuester patted his back. "Where are you living?"

Blaine looked at the floor, "With Kurt's dad and Finn and his mom."

Schuester smiled, "I'm glad they're taking care of you. You deserve a good family. What about… you know… your situation with Karofsky? I'm sorry to bring it up, I just have to know if it's getting better. Is Karofsky still harassing you?"

"Karofsky's in prison." Blaine said flatly, and Schuester raised his brows.

"You're kidding," Schuester shook his head. "What the hell did he do? I knew it was bad, I just didn't…"

Blaine stopped talking for a moment. He didn't know what to say to Schuester. He cleared his throat, "There's a lot you don't know about."

Schuester blew out heavily, "Yeah… okay. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand. But I'm always here to talk to you." Quickly changing the subject before he upset Blaine, he muttered, "Do you want to stay for a while? I can make you a coffee."

Blaine shook his head, "I need to go. I left the babies at home… I don't like being away from them for long." Standing, Blaine started heading for the door. "Bye."

Schuester followed Blaine and pulled him against his chest, startling Blaine. He slapped his back, "We'll see you around, Blaine."

Blaine stepped outside and walked back to his car, opening the door. He started it and backed out into the road, then he drove away.

Blaine heard another little sigh from the phone, "Blaine…"

"I'm still here." Blaine assured him. "I still love you." Picking up the phone, Blaine hummed into it to soothe Kurt, "I got to have roots before branches to know who I am before I know who I want to be."


	66. Stay

Author's note: Hi :D This chapter was a whole bunch of writer's block. My first draft was the exact opposite of this. It didn't have Kurt's memory of Everett and Keegan in it but had a scene with Santana, and there was no smut at the end. But then I changed it and took the Santana scene out because it was just really depressing and threw my entire chapter off and I added Kurt's memory and the smut (sorry if it's bad smut. Like I said, I'm not good at it.) The next chapter will probably be Kurt visiting Brody and Blaine building a swing set and that's it. About a week will be skipped because I don't want to write this entire year out because I hate it. P.S. Santana will come back eventually. Just not yet. Thanks to my lovely Beta for encouraging me to start over on my horrendous first draft. I was up all night redoing it but I like this one much better!

deshaunwalker: My Beta told me to make Brody a total asshole... He probably sounds completely unrealistic but I actually like him better this way :P It'll work out for Kurt and Blaine... they won't be apart for long :)

dcriss16: Aww thanks! :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Ohmygoodness hot doesn't even begin to describe him. He is freaking gorgeous. And now I'm fangirling. Wooo... yay fangirling. Aww it's no big deal! I was just worried you had stopped reading because Kurt left :P but good luck! I hope your folio goes well :) yeah, Blaine will have a lot of meltdowns about Kurt leaving... But... anyway... Starkid! He had a MASSIVE afro. I loved it XD I saw this interview where he was talking about his hair and he was like "I have a jungle up there..." XD Darren! Okay fangirl over :D

prosen8966: I am so sorry about your nephew! That is the most horrific thing and I feel terrible for your sister. If you don't know who he is, you should look up James Durbin. He was on American Idol and is a fantastic and successful singer, and he suffers from autism. I don't know what else your nephew is going through but just know that autism doesn't have to prevent him from anything. He can still do whatever he wants :) I'll miss your more frequent reviews but definitely put your nephew and sister first. They both deserve it, him because he's a child and every child deserves love and her because she's a very strong mom. Good luck :) I don't know if I should be proud of writing angst well but thanks :) Luckily this chapter doesn't have as much angst in it, just one little scene in the middle. I didn't think I'd be able to separate them, either. At the very last minute I was debating having Kurt stay, but basically the rest of my story relies on them being separated for a while so I had to do it. I don't even know what Brody is... my Beta encouraged me to write him as a "total asshole"-her words, not mine, but I agree. So that's what I did. He's probably unrealistic but he's not that major of a character. I just wanted him to be the exact opposite of Blaine. Glad you found him funny... I thought Finn's present was so sweet! I was wondering about what picture Kurt would want, if he'd like one of just Blaine or of Blaine and the babies, and then I decided on one of the whole family because Kurt's family means so much to him :) I thought Blaine was very brave when he let Kurt go... Kurt means so much to him so I thought it was sweet that he let Kurt put his dreams ahead of him, but I just had to put his true feelings about it in somewhere. And you don't have to worry about the babies, Blaine will keep them safe :) I'm falling back on Cooper's money to pay for all of Kurt and Blaine's Skype dates/phone calls because that would be awful if Kurt realized he spent all of his money on getting home and had to stay in France. Blaine would probably man up and face his fears of France by going to Kurt if that was the case :) I agree with you about it being easier to talk about things like that on here. I wouldn't be able to say a word about if we were face to face... Some people actually have to ask if I can talk because I don't usually say anything... but I think everyone has a voice and sometimes they don't speak through talking. I completely agree with you about Quinn's situation. Like I've said, I don't know much about the body so I'm trusting your judgment that a number of months wouldn't have been long enough to heal her, but after she did heal it was like that entire storyline just went away. She was absolutely fine and she just forgot about Joe and Artie, who helped her through it. Things that people suffer through can't just be forgotten, especially in your situation, which I can completely understand is still bothering you. But, anyway, Kurt is definitely NOT older than Blaine on Glee! Remember when they started out the same age and the same grade? Yeah, Ryan Murphy doesn't. Then again, Kurt seems much more mature than Blaine now... not with randomly throwing himself out to Blaine like a fuck buddy, but otherwise as in not cheating, but Blaine was so mature in season two! I actually got most of my storyline from season two (my favorite season EVER.) And what happened? RIB wanted them to end up as fuck buddies, not in a matured relationship where they LOVE each other. And what's with the random dancing in the hallways? Is it like they're invisible, or imagining it? That's never been explained why NO ONE has noticed. Not that I mind seeing Blaine dance through the hallways... just make it a little more realistic if you're going to produce a realistic show. Okay, Brody is by far the stiffest actor on Glee. He has no purpose and his only "good" trait is his "hot" body (I don't think he's hot), which was revealed almost immediately when he got out of the shower on, what, his first episode, and tried groping Rachel. Maybe I'm exaggerating... I just don't like him... And just for the record, it seems like everyone is a gigolo this season. Finn plucking those petals seemed like the biggest, most dramatic thing he's done on the show. RIB has written him like a brainless blob who can't do anything for himself, so him actually having the will to stand up to Rachel and give that dramatic speech and pluck those petals was impressive. But, I agree, it did seem like he'd gone a little crazy. (I watched that episode because I heard there would be a Klaine makeout scene and thought it would be romantic; instead it was a bro helping a bro, I was disappointed yet again...) Okay... I have to ask... WTF? That sounds bitter but what? Brody was walking around Kurt's apartment naked? Did Kurt see him? What was he doing naked? Was Rachel even in the apartment when he was doing it? Poor little Kurt... I swear... I'm going to be vicious to him in my story. Okay, I guess you can see where Blaine's temper (in my story) comes from. I'm done complaining about Glee now that I've written you a reply as long as my chapter.

* * *

Kurt bundled his blankets under his nose, tangling his legs in the messy pile. Sighing, he stretched his arms out on both sides and patted for Blaine, sitting up when he didn't feel him. "Blaine?" He chirped, then bit his lip as he remembered that he wasn't in Ohio anymore. "Hm…" Checking his phone, he frowned at the sight of his screen saver, showing that his and Blaine's call had ended, but he had a little message icon in the corner. Clicking it open, he saw that it was a text message from Blaine, _Good morning, beautiful._

He helplessly giggled and kissed his phone, pushing his blankets down his legs. Sliding his feet out, Kurt squeaked, "Oh, cold feet! Cold feet!" He buried his feet under the blankets again and searched his room for his suitcase. It was a few inches away from his bed so he slid off, leaving his legs tucked into the sheets, and held himself up with one hand and dug through his suitcase with the other. He found a pair of fuzzy socks and happily grabbed them, but shrieked when he almost fell on his face.

Scrambling back onto his bed, he lifted one foot and slipped his sock on, then the other. From his doorway, he heard a low laugh, "Why is everything so dramatic with you? You've been awake for five minutes but you've already made enough noise to wake a neighborhood."

Kurt hopped off his bed and knelt by his luggage, pulling out his robe. "I'm not dramatic. I'm just excited! It's my first day back in France. Oh, Aunt Laurice, can we please visit some of the shops?"

She smirked at him, "Whatever you want, Mr. Diva. But get something in your belly first."

"Mm hm." Kurt tied his robe and followed her down the stairs. "What do we have to make breakfast with? I'm in the mood for toast and scrambled eggs… That sounds so yummy."

"Um…" Walking into the kitchen, she opened her fridge. "I have eggs… and milk. I should have bread. You know the kitchen better than I do… check everything out." She started to go back into the living room, but paused in the doorway. "Oh, Kurt… do you remember this?" Pointing at a few scratches in the wall, she smiled. "We measured you every year. Look at how little you were."

Kurt smiled, "Oh, that's so sweet. I need to remind Blaine to start doing that with Archer and Hunter when they're big enough to stand."

"Are Archer and Hunter those babies you told me about?" She sat down on the couch in the living room and opened her directory of every place in the city. "Kurt, we have to go see this new Hawaiian themed restaurant on the other side of the city. I've heard that it's great."

"Hawaiian?" Kurt cracked a few eggs over a skillet. "I've never had Hawaiian food."

"And I've never seen a Hawaiian man." She shook her head in disappointment. "I want to, though."

Blushing, Kurt laughed, "You can flirt with all the men you like when we go. I already have the best man of them all." He put the skillet on the stove, "Oh, Aunt Laurice, Archer and Hunter are the sweetest little things. Archer looks just like Blaine, and Hunter's a little more playful. Look on my phone… I have hundreds of pictures of them."

"Will do," she picked his phone up off the table, then frowned at it. "Hey, Kurt? Where did you say you met that Brody guy?"

Kurt also frowned, "On the plane… just yesterday. Why do you ask?"

"He sent you another text." She ran a hand through her hair. "He asked you to send him a picture of you in your pajamas." Glancing up at him, she furrowed her brows, "Does he know that you're engaged?"

"Yes, I told him." Kurt assured her.

Her frown deepened, "Kurt, I want you to stay away from him." Setting his phone down, she crossed her arms. "You don't need to be around boys like that. You're better than that."

"Mm hm…" Kurt went back to his cooking, but he suddenly felt very worried. Had Brody been flirting with him? He didn't know whether to tell Brody to go away or not. He didn't seem like a threat, but his aunt seemed very concerned about it. Switching the subject, Kurt chirped, "Do you still like your eggs light brown?"

"Yes, that's great." She smiled at him. "Thanks for cooking. It's definitely not my talent."

Flipping her eggs off the skillet and onto a plate, Kurt murmured, "We need to get you into a cooking class… or get you a man."

She laughed aloud at that, "When I need a man to move my furniture or cook for me because I get so fed up with burning water, I'll get one. I don't have the patience for a relationship… I get frustrated just working puzzles."

"You just haven't found the right man." Kurt pointed out, "Who knows, maybe one of those luau men will catch your eye for more than a night of flirting."

His aunt threw her head back with a noisy laugh, "As if. You're the only boy I need, Kurt. Speaking of need… I need food. Are my eggs done yet?"

Kurt wrinkled his nose at her, "You also need patience. They'll be done in a minute… I just need to salt them."

Kicking her feet up on the coffee table, she flipped through the directory a few more times, "Mm… look at this, Kurt. They just built a new mall a few cities away from here. It has a water park in it. You can enjoy the shoes, and I can enjoy being splashed in the face by freezing water."

Kurt giggled, carrying her eggs out to her. "If we go there, you're not going anywhere near that water park. It'll prune your hands and feet and dry you out. But I'd be happy to go shopping with you. We both need wardrobe updates… I have to buy the latest French styles…" he looked at her array of baggy sweats and a tank top, "and you just need to buy what's latest."

She laughed and threw one of her eggs at him, much to his surprise. "If you think you're putting me in something with ribbons and glitter, you're mistaken, Mr. Diva."

"You threw an egg at me!" He frowned at the mess on the table, forcing himself to pick it up. Instead of throwing it away, he tossed it at her and laughed as it landed in her hair.

She flicked it off and it fell between the couch cushions. Kurt laughed so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks, "Oh, that's disgusting!"

She ignored it and crossed her arms, "I would get it out, but I don't know what else is down there. Probably popcorn… raisins… maybe the remote for my last TV." She shrugged, "I'll hire a cleaner."

"Gross." Taking a step away from her, he returned to his kitchen, "I won't sit on that couch again."

"You know, your mom used to say that all the time about our room." Crossing her ankles, she flipped through the directory one more time. "So, where do you want to go, sweetie? There's an aquarium a few cities away where you can pet some of the fish. Or we could stay close to home. Whatever you want."

"Hm…" Kurt tapped his chin, but was interrupted by the laptop dinging. He opened it and squeaked when he saw a Skype IM from Blaine, _I want to see your face, pretty thing._ "Oh! Aunt Laurice, can I take the laptop up to my room? It's Blaine."

"Sure, sweetie. I can make my own toast… I think. If not, I'll just scrape off the burnt parts." Getting to her feet, she rubbed his shoulder as she walked by, "Take your time. I know you miss him."

"Thank you!" Kurt chirped, rushing up the stairs with the laptop. After he shut himself in his room, he sat down on his bed and clicked to answer the call. Almost immediately, Blaine's disheveled face appeared, his night beard unshaved and his hair sticking up off his head. "Blaine!"

"Kurt." Blaine curved his lips. "Look at you… you're so beautiful. I've missed seeing your face."

Kurt shyly ran his fingers through his hair, "I just woke up. But you look good, Blaine."

Snorting, Blaine reached off the camera when one of the babies cooed, "I haven't even shaved. I just couldn't stop thinking about you all night… I didn't want to put off talking to you any longer by showering or getting ready."

"Your good morning text was very sweet, Blaine." Kurt smiled, "Thank you. And thank you for comforting me last night. I liked knowing that you were still there all night long."

Blaine shrugged with a small smile, "I like making you happy."

"You're a very good fiancé." He smiled and untied his robe, slipping it off his shoulders. Blaine's eyes narrowed and he looked closer at the screen. "You are such a boy!" Kurt squeaked, giggling. "This is all that's coming off."

"I'm going crazy, Kurt." Blaine shook his head, sliding the laptop farther down his legs so Kurt could see his bulging groin. "I can't masturbate to pictures of you anymore… my hand is getting sore. You have to let me have Skype sex with you."

Kurt blushed again, "Skype sex? Oh, Blaine, I've never had Skype sex before. I'm nervous."

"You don't have to be nervous with me." Blaine assured him, rubbing a palm over his groin just to show Kurt what he wanted. "I love your body."

Making sure his door was shut, Kurt lowered his voice, "I'll try. Skype me tonight… when it's late."

Blaine unconsciously licked his lips, "Kurt, I want this so much. Thank you."

"I should go now." Kurt smiled at him. "My aunt and I are going to see the city today. I'll miss you until tonight."

"I'll miss you, too." Blaine pressed his fingers to his mouth, then touched them to the camera. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too!" Kurt peeped, wriggling off his bed after the call ended. Humming to himself, Kurt knelt by his luggage case and pulled out a pretty, white dress he knew Blaine loved to see him in. He peeled his pajamas off then draped the dress over his head. It fell onto his body and he pushed his hands through the sleeves. "A sweater… I need a sweater. Hm…" Searching through his sweaters, Kurt picked a glittery, white one with three, big buttons on the front.

He slipped into it and buttoned it, then dug through his perfumes. "Mango is too fruity for white… Mm, my rose and lilac would go well with it." Thinking of the cologne he took from Blaine, Kurt excitedly unzipped his purse and pulled it out. He stuck it against his nose and sniffed the hard spices and cinnamon. "Oh, Blaine… it smells just like him!"

Without care that the cologne was far too masculine for his outfit and was meant for fall weather, Kurt spritzed his wrists and neck. "This is much better than any perfume I have." Kurt whispered, rubbing the tiny droplets into his skin. He sprayed his room just to keep breathing in the smell of Blaine. He remembered how good it felt when Blaine wrapped his arms around him and all he could smell was the spicy cologne, and after they had sex when Kurt would lay his cheek on Blaine's sweaty chest and smell the heightened spices, mixed with the drugging scent of sweat and come. The memories made Kurt shiver.

His aunt knocked on his door, "Are you ready to go, sweetie? Whoa… I didn't take you for a—" she paused to sniff, "—is that cinnamon and spice—kind of boy."

"I'm not," Kurt smiled, getting to his feet and sticking the cologne back in his purse. "Well… I am. I just wouldn't…" he stopped trying to explain in such a confusing way and pointed at the purse, "It's Blaine's. I'm wearing it because it reminds me of him."

"Oh, sweetie," she rubbed his back. "You'll see him again, I promise. Come on, let's go get your mind off of things and see the city. Where do you want to go?"

"The ice cream store sounds nice." Kurt rubbed his belly, "I've missed that ice cream. It was so good!"

Looping their arms, she grinned at him, "I haven't been there in a while, either. I guess after you left… I didn't want to go without you. It was kind of like our weekend tradition." She guided him downstairs and out the door, and they started walking down the sidewalk. "So tell me about this Blaine of yours. Where did you two meet?"

"I first saw him in English class." Kurt did a little skip as he remembered the very moment he first saw Blaine Anderson. "He was sitting in the very back row. He had his hair grown out so long but I thought he was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. The teacher sat me next to him because there weren't many seats left. I was intimidated… but I'm so glad I came in late. He looked at me like I was the most peculiar thing… he wasn't mean, no. He was just… interested in me. And I was so curious about him, but I was scared. He was the quarterback of the football team and he seemed to be very popular and I thought he might have been a little mean… so I tried to stay away. But… he called me… and he was so nice to me on the phone. A little distant, but polite. A gentleman. He asked me how I was and was very respectful."

"And then what happened?" His aunt seemed totally intrigued by his story.

"His friends pulled a very mean prank on me." Kurt frowned and crossed his arms. "But he protected me for the most part. He didn't stop them, but he acted angry about it. And… I felt safe when he got there. Even though we had a little bicker after that, we couldn't stay away from each other. He told me he loved me very soon after that… and we've been a couple ever since then."

"And what about his proposal?" She pointed at his engagement ring. "Oh, Kurt, it had to have been romantic. I'm so happy for you."

"It was very romantic." He sighed, grinning at her. "It was on my birthday. He had a good friend of ours… the same girl who gave us the baby… drive me up to the school. He was already there. I walked inside and there was this pathway of roses… it was the sweetest thing I had ever seen. It led me up to the English room, where we had met, and he was standing there. He was so nervous… but then he saw me and all of his nerves went away. He told me the most romantic things… I remember every word he said. He told me I was the love of his life and that I was perfect and that he didn't want what we have together to end… and then he got down on his knee and he proposed."

"Oh, Kurt!" She squealed and tugged him into her arms. "You deserve it, sweetie. You are the best boy I know. Blaine should be very grateful to have you."

"He is." Kurt nodded, "He's never taken me for granted. He doesn't like to admit it but he's a gentleman. He always puts me first. I love him so much, Aunt Laurice."

"You made me want to get a man, Kurt." Laughing, she took his hand and turned a corner. "Come on, I know a shortcut to the ice cream store. It's just through here."

Kurt stopped walking as she led him toward a few alleyways. _"Kurt, come on! It's just a shortcut."_

"_Guys, we shouldn't be back here. I don't like it."_

"_Nothing bad is going to happen."_

Kurt gasped and took a step back, "Aunt Laurice, let's stay on the sidewalk. I don't mind walking a little farther."

She looked at him as if he had confused her, then she shook her head, "Alright. I guess you can see more of the city this way."

Kurt happily glued his feet to the sidewalk, looking back at those alleyways only once.

* * *

"_I'm getting cold." Kurt chirped, bundling his jacket tighter around himself. "Are we almost home? I feel lost."_

_Keegan looked back at him and grinned, "It's about a fifteen minute walk the way you're headed. Come on, let's cut through these alleyways. I bet we can get there in about five minutes if we do."_

_Kurt peeked into the alleyways both Keegan and Everett were starting to go into, and his bottom lip trembled, "It looks dark in there. Let's stay on the sidewalk."_

_Everett laughed, "Kurt, come on! It's just a shortcut."_

_Kurt started to follow them into the alleyways when a hooded man walked behind him, seeking his friends for comfort, "Guys, we shouldn't be back here. I don't like it."_

"_Nothing bad is going to happen." Keegan wrapped an arm around Everett. "Let's race to the house! The last one there obviously wore the wrong heels!" Shooting a devious grin at Kurt, Keegan ran off with Everett, who squealed and clutched his arm._

"_Guys!" Kurt begged, splashing through the puddles and trying not to ruin his tights. "Wait, please!"_

"_Come on, Kurt!" Keegan laughed, and Everett poked his nose back around the corner. Keegan yanked him away and kissed him on the mouth. "Kurt thinks I have to protect you from something. The only danger back here is that he breaks one of those ten inch heels and twists his ankle."_

"_This isn't funny, Keegan." Kurt tried to hide the tears in his eyes, "I'm scared. You don't know who's back here."_

"_Kurt, we're all alone." Keegan grinned, "There's nothing to worry about. Do you hear anyone?"_

"_No, but…" When Keegan spun around and started walking again, Kurt quickly got on his heels._

_Suddenly, there was a splashing noise and Kurt saw something move in the corner of his eye. He grabbed the back of Keegan's shirt. "Keegan, did you see that?"_

"_You're playing tricks on yourself." Keegan ignored him, "I didn't see anything." Taking Everett's hand, Keegan pointed up ahead, "See, there's my house. This wasn't a big deal, Kurt."_

_There was another splashing sound, and Kurt helplessly whipped around. He screamed at the sight of a towering man behind him, and he felt a little jostled when the man's meaty hands reached out. "Everett!" Keegan yelled as Everett was torn from his arms._

_Kurt heard a crunching sound, and the horrible man yelled almost incoherently, "Fucking fags!" He threw Everett to the ground and ran away. Kurt lifted one hand to his hair and the other to his mouth, then looked down at Everett. Everett's head was thrown back, twisted the wrong way, and he was swallowing mouthfuls of blood._

_Keegan dropped by his boyfriend and lifted him from the ground, "Everett! Kurt, go find someone! Go get help!" He shook his boyfriend. "Everett, don't go! I love you! Please… don't leave me… I love you…"_

* * *

Kurt pulled his blankets up to his chin and he clicked the laptop screen on. He typed in an IM, _Blaine?_

There was an instant call from Blaine's laptop, and Kurt answered it. Blaine grinned at him, "Hello."

Tugging his knees to his chest, Kurt rested his chin on them, "It's so good to see your face. Is it okay to Skype now?"

"Any time." Blaine whispered, "I think the family's still awake, but I just put the babies down. How was your day?"

"Oh, Blaine, it was wonderful." Smiling, Kurt untied his bathrobe and let it slip off his shoulders. Like that morning, Blaine's eyes narrowed. "I had ice cream with my aunt, and then we came home and watched movies. I taught her how to cook a little. I'm having fun but I miss being home. I miss being with you."

"I'm still here." Blaine assured him. "I'm thinking about building the babies a swing set."

"Oh, a swing set!" Kurt put his fingertips to his lips, "Blaine, you must! That'd be so sweet. Mm… if you do build it, be sure to take pictures of them. I want to see their sweet faces again. I miss them so much."

Blaine chuckled, "I'll take as many pictures as you like."

Kurt's smile widened, and he reached for the hem of his dress. "I thought about you all of today… I told my aunt about how we met, how you proposed to me… and I thought about all of the ways you'll make the perfect husband for me."

"Mm?" Blaine grinned as Kurt started to lift his dress. "Were there many of them?"

"Thousands." Kurt whispered, his eyes gleaming. "And I realized that I'm not nervous about this… not with you."

"You want to do it?" Blaine's eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. "Oh, baby… take your dress off. I want to see you."

Kurt slid his dress over his head and tossed it aside, leaving himself exposed in lacy spankies. Blaine's jaw dropped, "Is that… lace?"

Kurt nodded with a smile, "Yes. Do you like them?"

"Fuck." was the only thing Blaine said. "Can you spread your legs? Kurt… I—" he stopped talking and shook his head. "I don't think I'll last much longer."

Scooting away from the laptop, Kurt sat down on his pillow and slowly spread his thighs. Blaine's mouth fell open and his breathing got heavier, "Fuck… okay… cup your hand over it."

Smiling at Blaine's obvious arousal, Kurt lowered his hand between his thighs and covered himself. He felt his soft skin through the holes in the lace, and it felt very good. Rubbing his small cock through the thin lace, Kurt whimpered. His hips lifted into his hand. "Oh, Kurt!" Blaine convulsed as if he was the one being touched. "Keep rubbing. Stroke it with your thumb."

Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, Blaine ripped out of it and threw it aside. Kurt watched as he unzipped his pants, then pushed them down to his feet. His engorged cock had made a little tent out of his boxers. "You look so hot right now…" Blaine growled, frantically peeling his boxers off. "Touch your nipple. It's so tight, Kurt…"

Lifting his fingers to his nipple, Kurt pinched it. He swiveled his fingers around his cock, scratching it through the fabric with his fingernail. "Oh, Blaine…" Grabbing his entire cock, Kurt pushed up on it. "Oh…"

At that little sound Blaine's cock stabbed his belly button. He grabbed it in his right hand and gave it a hard tug. "Take your panties off." He begged. "Take them off. I can't—Kurt, I can't—"

Kurt stood up from his bed and tilted his laptop so Blaine could see all of him. Hooking his fingers in his spankies, Kurt slid them an inch down his hips. Blaine swore again and twisted his fingers around his cock. "Kurt!"

Turning around, Kurt pushed them down his thighs and bent over so Blaine could see his tiny hole, then he picked up his spankies. He draped them on his laptop so Blaine could still see him. Blaine's face was bright red, "Put your hands on your butt."

Spinning again, Kurt grabbed his butt cheeks. "Peel them apart and bend over."

Bending completely over, Kurt kept them apart. "Oh, Kurt…" he could hear Blaine moan. "I want to lick your little hole. I want to bite your nipples."

Kurt moaned. Sliding his finger into his ass crack, Kurt tickled his hole. "Do you want to be inside of me?"

"Yes." Blaine's voice sounded desperate, "Lick your finger and put it in. So deep, Kurt."

Lifting his hand, Kurt stuck his finger in his cheek and lapped his tongue over it. He glanced over his shoulder at Blaine and pulled his finger out, swiveling his tongue around the tip as he did. "Oh, Blaine…" He lowered to the bed and laid back, spreading his knees in front of the camera. Blaine made a sound like Kurt had never heard before.

"Fuck, baby!" He almost yelled.

Lifting his hips from the mattress, Kurt slid his finger between his butt cheeks. He peeled them apart again and tickled his hole. "Oh!" Pushing his finger inside, Kurt wiggled it.

"Deeper." Blaine begged, "Curl it."

Kurt crooked his finger and slid it farther in, and he listened to Blaine panting. Pre-cum dripped onto his hand. Pushing on a bundle of nerves, Kurt cried out and his butt smacked the bed. "Oh, Blaine!"

"Baby, I'm so hard right now." Blaine's voice sounded weak, broken. "Sit up. I want to see your face."

Kurt sat up and saw Blaine on the screen, his face wrecked and his hair messy from tugging it. He was almost yanking on his cock, pre-cum spitting out of the tip and running over the veiny shaft. "Blaine," Kurt whimpered.

"Get on your hands and knees. Put your butt up higher." Blaine demanded, his voice suddenly deep and guttural. He didn't have much further to go.

Kurt climbed onto his hands and knees and pointed his butt at the ceiling. "You have such a cute butt," Blaine whispered, staring at it. "I want to kiss it and bite it."

"Oh…" Kurt's hands trembled and he curled his fingers into the blankets. "Blaine… if you dirty talk anymore I won't last much longer."

"Wrap your fingers around your cock." Blaine watched as Kurt's shaky hand found his cock and grabbed it. "Tell me what it feels like. You look so swollen and wet… I want to taste you. I want to put my mouth between your thighs."

Tears dripped off Kurt's cheeks, "It's soft… but it's very stiff."

"Rub it and then lick your palm." Blaine growled, his chest lifting and dropping faster than it should have.

Rubbing his hand up and down, Kurt lifted his hand and licked the palm. "It's sweet… like cherries. Can you rub yours and lick your palm?"

Blaine did as he was told and grinded his hand against his throbbing cock, then he slid his tongue against his palm. "It's salty. It tastes good."

"Spread your cheeks," Kurt more asked than said, but Blaine was more than willing to grab his ass cheeks and pull them apart. "Stick your finger inside. It feels good."

Blaine stroked between his ass cheeks, circling his tiny hole. He shoved his finger inside and his hips lifted, "Oh, Kurt… I want it to be you. Either your wet cock slipping into me and slapping my walls… or your pretty head between my thighs… your tongue licking everywhere inside of me." He convulsed as he found his prostate, "Fuck, Kurt!"

"Blaine!" Kurt squeaked, more tears leaking from his eyes. He pinched his nipple again and rubbed until it was almost sore and red. "Blaine! Blaine!"

Blaine hit his orgasm seconds before Kurt, and Kurt came moments after him. Kurt listened to Blaine shaking the bed, the rails slamming into the wall. "Kurt!" He yelled.

"Oh, Blaine!" After he regained control of his spasming body, Kurt fell onto his sheets and he buried his face into them. He couldn't catch his breath, and neither could Blaine from his heavy breathing. Lifting his eyes to the screen, Kurt saw Blaine starting to shift and look up at Kurt. "Blaine…"

"I love you so much," Blaine shook his head. "Spread your legs. I want to see what I've done to you."

Spreading his shaky legs, Kurt showed him the mess of come between his thighs, streaks of pink cock under a pool of white. Blaine smiled at him, "I like what I see. You're so beautiful…"

Kurt trembled as he hardened a little, "Blaine, I don't think I'm finished…"

Blaine looked at his pink cock, "Touch yourself."

Poking his cock, Kurt moaned as he stiffened under his touch. "Definitely not…" Blaine groaned, "and neither am I. Not after seeing that. Let me pleasure you again. Roll onto your stomach."

Kurt eagerly did as he was told. "Now rub your body up and down and say my name. Spread your legs."

Rubbing his body against the mattress, Kurt spread his legs so Blaine could see his loosened, come dripping hole. "Oh, Blaine… this feels very good."

"Grab your butt." Blaine whispered, already getting painfully hard. When Kurt grabbed his butt, Blaine muttered, "Spank yourself. Gently. Pretend it's me."

Kurt spanked his butt and the cheeks jiggled. Blaine moaned. "Oh, baby…" he reached up and tweaked his nipple. "You're so hot… so fucking sexy…"

Whimpering, Kurt convulsed and quickly came. "Oh, Blaine…"

"Finished?" Blaine growled, knowing exactly what he would say.

"No, I want more." He pleaded.

Blaine smiled, not losing his stiffness for a moment. "Turn around and lift your legs. Rub that little sac under your cock."

Kurt rolled over and sat up again, lifting one of his legs into the air. He rubbed his little sac, feeling it bounce against the backs of his fingers, "Oh, Blaine… Blaine…"

"Kurt… I love you…" Blaine groaned and clenched his cock.

Kurt arched into his fingers, "You make me feel so good… I love you, too…"


	67. As If We Never Said Goodbye

Author's note: Hi :) This chapter has Brody in it, and I know how everyone absolutely loves him (that was complete sarcasm :P) It also starts to show some changes in Finn, which will eventually have a very negative impact on the story. Kurt does some musical exploring :) There's another Skype date. Blaine has trouble building something, and his frustration is very obvious :P

Spoilers for next chapter: Kurt will go back to Vogue. Unique will have made a major change. The photo shoot pictures from New York will be talked about. Blaine won't be shown much, probably just taking care of the babies again. Finn will probably be in most of the Blaine scenes, and his changes will be obvious.

deshaunwalker: The break from Brody was nice, he gets on my nerves... like A LOT :P and thanks! I didn't want anyone to talk about my smut because it's so embarrassing LOL but at least now I know I'm not completely terrible at it :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Okay sorry for the random private message but I was driving myself crazy over the smut! I couldn't think of one thing for them to do... so in the end I just didn't write it :P And oh gosh Darren crying. He is such a freaking beautiful crier but it makes me want to cry! Annnd fangirl back on XD aww! I love it when people say that my story is the best Klaine fanfic because there are A LOT of good Klaine stories out there so it's a big compliment to get! Okay, back to Darren Criss... gonna go keep fangirling over him XD

P.S. I'm going to see The Host tomorrow. This has nothing to do with my story but asjkenfikdgnd... SO EXCITED. #TeamJared :)

* * *

Kurt awoke to his phone buzzing, and he lifted his head from the pillow. Blinking the sleep away, Kurt yawned and stretched his arms above his head. "Mm…?" He reached for his phone and saw a text from Blaine. Smiling, he opened it, _Thank you for last night. I can't wait to Skype you again. I love you._

He giggled and blushed, pulling the blankets up his naked body. Setting his phone aside, he scooted off his bed and lifted his robe from one of the hangers next to his bed. He dropped his blankets and looked at his pink body. His nipples were still rosy and pointed, and his cock was smeared in come. Wrapping himself in his robe, Kurt stood and winced as his bottom throbbed. He and Blaine had been having Skype sex constantly over the past few nights, and he didn't want to stop, but he didn't like having to waddle everywhere because he was sore.

Tying his robe, Kurt carefully walked over to his closet and opened the doors. He was thinking about visiting some theatres to see if anyone was casting for a musical, so he had to pick something that was professional but very casual and approachable. He decided on a white pencil skirt and a cream blouse with sparkles sprinkled on it.

He carried his outfit into his own bathroom across the hall and he fixed himself a bath. After the steaming water filled the tub, Kurt slid out of his robe and he poked the water with his toes. "Mm… that feels good." He sank into the water and closed his eyes. He missed being held in Blaine's arms when they took baths together and feeling his gentle hands caressing and soaping him, but he liked the heat of the water and the way it soothed him.

Rubbing the soap on his skin until he was pink and shiny, Kurt shyly lowered the soap between his thighs. He slid it up and down his length, moaning as he slowly got hard. "Blaine…" he whispered, imagining it was Blaine's slippery, soapy fingers stroking him. "Oh, Blaine."

He rubbed the soap up and down the bottom of his length, feeling his sac bounce against his fingers. Spreading his legs, Kurt wrapped his fingers around his length and he pressed the tip of his fingernail to his slit. "Blaine… oh… harder… harder…"

Pre-cum dribbled from his tip and he slicked up his cock with the sticky liquid. Pressing on his soft skin, Kurt cried out when he hit a sensitive spot, then he wondered if Blaine knew about his sweet spot. "Mm… Oh, Blaine!"

He came in the water and he sank deeper as orgasm took control of his convulsing body. Shuddering, Kurt moaned and clamped his thighs around his leaking cock. "Oh!" He closed his eyes and sighed again, then he looked down at the white mess floating in the water. He helplessly giggled. "What would Blaine think of me if he could see me?"

Restarting his bath, Kurt drained the water and filled the tub again. He finished shampooing his hair and washing his face, then he finally stepped out and dried off. He stood in front of the mirror and dropped his towel to the floor. Combing his fingers through his hair, Kurt sprayed it so it wouldn't fall flat. He slid his legs into his skirt and he zipped it up at his hips, then he tugged his blouse over his head. Quickly pinching his cheeks to give them a natural blush, Kurt opened his makeup bag and swiped his lips with gloss. After he dried his hair with a blow dryer, he sprayed it again.

Satisfied with his appearance, Kurt waddled out of the bathroom and returned to his bedroom. He grabbed his phone and his purse, then walked downstairs. "Aunt Laurice?" he called, glancing in the kitchen for her.

She was standing at the counter, pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. "Yeah, sweetie?"

"I'm going out for a while." He smiled at her. "I'm looking for someone who's casting for a musical. How do I look?" Twirling for her, he showed her all sides of his outfit.

"You look like someone anybody would want to cast in his musical." She grinned, coming out of the kitchen and pulling him into her arms. "I would tell you good luck but you don't need any. You're the most talented boy in all of France. Be careful walking around the city. Don't talk to any men… they'll try to come onto you."

"I'll be careful." Turning around, Kurt opened the door. "Thank you!"

"Let me know how things go at every place you see!" She called after him.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, Kurt waddled off his street and headed for the inner city, where most of the theatres were. He hummed as he went, watching for street signs and any theatres that looked appealing to him. Many of the men he passed glanced twice at him, so Kurt held his left hand in front of him to make sure his engagement ring was very visible.

Several of the theatres he walked by already had shows listed, so he looked for any casting signs. Remembering Brody's offer about seeing his theatre and how he had mentioned being asked to be a lead role, Kurt wondered if that musical was still casting. He tapped his chin as he glanced around for any signs for the Rogue Theatre, but he must have still been far from it because he couldn't see anything about the theatre.

Kurt spotted a man, probably in his mid-twenties, selling flowers on the sidewalk, so he walked up to him. "Excuse me, do you know where the Rogue Theatre is?"

The man grinned at him, pointing out to the left, "That way… turn right at an apartment complex. It's on the road down there." He pulled a flower from his pile and held it out to Kurt, "Does the pretty boy want a flower?"

Kurt blushed and pursed his lips, "Oh, that's very sweet of you, but I'm engaged." He held up his left hand. "Thank you for the directions."

Turning away from the man, Kurt kept walking in that direction. He found the theatre eventually, a pretty, red building with an intricate design on the front. Pushing through the doors, Kurt was instantly greeted by people rushing around and shouting out that they needed to see someone on stage immediately.

"Hm…" he spotted Brody by one of the stage doors, his mouth on another boy's. The boy was shrilly giggling and shuffling his feet at whatever Brody was telling him. "Brody!"

Brody glanced up and his eyes narrowed at Kurt. "Sweet cheeks…" he murmured, peeling off his newest victim and prowling toward Kurt. "You never called me."

"I'm sorry," Kurt sincerely said. "I've been so…" he blushed, "busy with my fiancé… and I've been spending time with my aunt."

"Your aunt I can forgive." He grinned, "I'll see about this fiancé of yours."

Kurt glanced at the boy behind Brody, "I wasn't interrupting, was I? I can come back another time. There was another theatre about a block away that was casting."

"No," Brody slung his arm around Kurt's shoulders, "you weren't interrupting anything." He pointed at the boy he was kissing, "Consider him a prop. He's trying out for Beauty and I was seeing how our chemistry is. It's pretty bland." When Kurt looked over his shoulder at the boy and mouthed an apology, Brody grabbed his face and turned it, "So, you're trying to get cast in a musical? Won't be hard for you. You're beautiful, talented… any guy would be crazy to not go absolutely nuts over you."

Kurt blushed again and put a little distance between him and Brody, "Is your musical casting?"

"Yeah. We're having auditions right now." Brody opened the stage door and pushed Kurt inside, and both of them saw a girl singing on stage. "Oh… they definitely won't take her." He sat down in one of the back rows, and Kurt perched beside of him.

"Why not?" Kurt chirped quietly, "She's very good."

"Her posture is all wrong." Brody pointed out, "She has a zit on her face that's the size of my thumb. Her teeth are crooked."

"Oh." Kurt looked at Brody, "Do you think I could try out?"

"Sure… come on." Grabbing Kurt's wrist, Brody yanked him from his seat and pulled him up to the front of the room. "The musical is Beauty and the Beast… if you haven't figured it out. I know some dick from New York tried to get you into a Beauty and the Beast movie with him, but this is different. You'll like working with me. I'm not an asshole who will insult you." Grinning, he pushed him up to a table of judges. "Hey… this is Kurt Hummel. He wants to try out for the part of Beauty."

One of the judges glanced up, and she raised her brows at Kurt, "Oh… well… it's very nice to meet you, Kurt." She poked the judge beside of her, "Look at him. He has the perfect face. Do you have any experience in singing or dancing, Kurt?"

"Yes." He smiled, "I've been in a musical before, and I've taken dance classes from Madam July."

"Okay," the judge on the other end of the table snapped his fingers, "get off the stage. We're not going to take you for the role."

The girl who had been singing looked devastated, and she hurried off with tears in her eyes. "Oh…" Kurt whispered, "that poor girl. Won't they give her a smaller role, even if they don't want her for Beauty?"

"Nope." Brody led him up to a stairway to the stage, "They have other less talented people for those roles. Come on, just get up there and sing."

Nervously stepping up onto the stage, Kurt winced as a spotlight hit him. He walked to the middle of the stage and looked at the rows of seating that stretched so high up he could hardly see the back rows. Balconies hung on both sides of the building. Heavy curtains waved from either side of him. He remembered being on a Broadway stage, but he also didn't. It felt different now… like something was missing. He looked down at Brody, who gave him two thumbs up, and he suddenly wanted it to be Blaine instead.

One of the judges tapped his microphone, "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Hummel."

Closing his eyes, Kurt let the words fall out of his mouth, "I don't know why I'm frightened… I know my way around here…" He lifted his lashes and stared at the judges, who were watching his every movement. "The cardboard trees, the painted seas, the sound here. Yes, a world to rediscover… but I'm not in any hurry and I need a moment."

Glancing up at the ceiling with an amazing painting of a scene from Romeo and Juliet on it, Kurt flicked his eyes to the impressive and colorful balconies. None of it struck him as fascinating or breath taking anymore… and he didn't know why. "The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways. The atmosphere as thrilling here as always. Feel the early morning madness. Feel the magic in the making. Why, everything's as if we never said—" Kurt stopped singing when one of the judges held up his hand.

"Thank you. Our rehearsals start in two weeks." was the only thing he said. "We'll contact you with more information later."

"I'm Beauty?" Kurt whispered, but they ignored him.

"Sweet cheeks, you got the part!" Brody held his hand out, and Kurt let him help him off the stage. "You know, I have no idea why I didn't get Beauty. I mean… look at me, I'm gorgeous. It must have been my hot, muscular body that threw them off." Lifting his shirt, Brody fondly stroked his abs.

"I'd like to go home now to tell my aunt." Kurt slipped out of Brody's grip. "It was nice seeing you again—"

"Wait, you can't leave yet." Brody grabbed him back. "I have to show you your dressing room and give you a script. Besides… don't you want to practice our chemistry?" He puckered his lips at Kurt.

"No, thank you." Kurt shook his head.

"Oh." Curling his lips, Brody guided him down a hallway and showed him a door with a star on it. "Here you go. We'll get your name up there eventually. And…" he pushed open the door and led Kurt inside, picking up a script that was lying on the table. "there's your script. Meet me up for lunch sometime. We can go over our lines together."

"No, thank you, Brody." Kurt said again. "That's a very polite offer but I'd rather just see you at rehearsals."

"Because you're engaged and you don't want to be alone with me?" Brody frowned. "Well, then, this is the wrong musical for you. It is a romance, you know."

"I can ask for them to take out any kissing scenes." Kurt smiled, unaware of the damage he was doing to Brody's masculine pride.

Brody's frown severely deepened until he almost looked wounded, "Right. But rehearsals only last a few hours. We're going to need to see each other outside of rehearsals if we want to get our lines right… that means the emotion behind them, not just memorizing them."

"I'll practice with my fiancé." He sat down at his vanity. "I'm sorry, Brody. My fiancé means everything to me and he wouldn't like it if I was going out to lunch with other men."

"Whatever." Brody rolled his eyes. "You know, your fiancé doesn't have to know everything. What happens in France can stay in France. Boy… when that dick from New York called you a prude, he wasn't—" he cut himself off before he hurt Kurt. "Just… whatever."

"Brody, you're being very mean." Kurt frowned at him, "Please respect my fiancé."

Brody held up his hands, "My bad. Look… I'll leave you alone since you obviously can't stand to be around other men. But just get this… Brody Weston always gets what he wants, and Brody Weston doesn't like rejection." Crossing his arms, Brody stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Kurt jumped at the loud sound. Wondering what he did wrong, Kurt pursed his lips then looked around his dressing room. Bulky dresses were hanging from hangers in the back of the room and different tones of makeup were stacked on his dressing table. Picking up one of the lipsticks, Kurt opened it and rubbed it against his bottom lip. "I'm coming out of makeup…" Kurt sang softly to himself, standing and heading for the dresses. "The lights already burning… Not long until the cameras will start turning…"

Pulling a ball gown from the dresses, Kurt held it up to his body. Black streamers dangled down the layers of fluffy fabric, waving and moving as he spun around with the dress. "And this time will be bigger and brighter than we knew it. So watch me fly, we all know I can do it. Could I stop my hands from shaking? Has there ever been a moment with so much to live for?"

He glanced up at the mirror and saw himself with the dress against his body, and without the black streamers it almost looked just like a wedding dress. "Blaine!" Kurt chirped, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I have to tell him first!"

He dialed Blaine's number and held the phone to his ear, and he smiled as he heard Blaine's voice, "Hi, sweetheart."

"Blaine!" Kurt bounced on his toes, "I'm so happy you picked up! I have great news!"

"What is it?" Blaine sounded somewhere between concerned and amused. Kurt winced as he heard a big clunk in the background, "Dammit."

"What's wrong?" Kurt peeped. "Did one of the babies fall?"

"No, they're fine." Blaine breathlessly laughed, "I was building the swing set for the babies and it fell apart… again. But tell me your news. What's going on? What'd you stick your nose into this time?"

"I got a lead role in Beauty and the Beast!" Kurt squeaked, bouncing again. "I'm playing Beauty… I'm so excited."

"I'm so proud of you, Kurt." The smile in Blaine's voice was obvious. "Who is… playing the Beast?"

"Oh, you don't have to be jealous." Kurt put the dress back and walked into the hallway, "I know how you get, and I don't want to kiss other men… so I'm asking them to take out any kissing scenes."

Blaine blew out in relief, "Good." There was another clunk and Blaine noisily swore.

"Blaine, have you looked at the directions?" Kurt helplessly giggled. "And be careful not to smash your fingers with the hammer! I like your fingers."

"You just like where I can put my fingers." Blaine chuckled. "And, yes, I looked at those stupid directions. I didn't understand them so I'm doing this on my own."

Kurt laughed aloud when there was another bang, "I'll let you try to stand the swing set up, at the very least, before something falls and hits you on the head. Try not to get hurt. Will you Skype me tonight?"

"Whenever you want." Blaine promised. "Can you wear your lacy panties again? I really liked those, Kurt."

"Sure." Kurt giggled, blushing.

"I'll see you tonight." It sounded like Blaine kissed the phone. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too!" Kurt squeaked, clicking the call off and hurrying—he waddled as fast as he could—out of the theatre. He had to tell his aunt the great news… and avoid Brody. For whatever reason, Kurt felt very uncomfortable around him now.

* * *

Blaine plopped on the ground and stuck his nose in the directions, scrubbing his forehead as he tried to understand. "What is the thin rope?" he growled at the piece of paper. "All of the rope is the same size!" Crumpling the directions up, Blaine threw them aside and heard Hunter gurgle. He looked up at his babies, who were lying on a blanket nearby, and both of them smiled at him. Hunter batted his fists at the piece of paper as if to mimic Blaine.

"Don't smile at me right now." Blaine muttered to them, grabbing the nearest piece of wood. "Where does this even go?" Behind him, there was a bang so he glanced over his shoulder to see that his fifth try at getting the swing set up had collapsed. "Oh, fuck!"

Hunter gurgled again and his smile widened. Blaine glared at him, but was interrupted by another person approaching. "Hey… can I help?"

Blaine looked up at Finn, "If you're going to be as much help as that instruction manual, then no."

Finn grinned at him, taking the random piece of wood, "Give me that. Watching you put this together was pathetic. It's like you've never held a hammer. Didn't you and your dad used to work on cars together?"

Blaine glared at him, "I said we did. I never said I was good at it. Besides, this isn't a car! This is a bunch of wood and ropes that aren't going together."

Snorting, Finn went up to the pile of wood on the ground and smirked. "Here's your problem. You have the connector nailed in the wrong way. It'll make that side of the swing set unstable—"

"Just fix it." Blaine snapped.

Laughing, Finn reached in the toolbox and grabbed a clamp. He pulled the bad nail out and laid the piece of wood the right way. "Blaine… I didn't just come out here to help."

"What?" Blaine sat down on the babies' blanket and he patted Archer's belly. Archer hiccupped and smiled at him.

Screwing in a new nail, Finn muttered, "I took your advice about Rachel."

"You talked to her?" Letting Pavarotti climb onto his fingers, Blaine set him on his shoulder and felt him yank his hair.

"No." Finn shook his head. "I realized that I don't want her… so I didn't talk to her. I… moved on. I slept with someone… I don't think the relationship will last. Actually, I'm sure of it because he didn't give me his number—"

Blaine's eyes flew open wide, "_His?_ Finn, you slept with a guy? Are you crazy? You're straight!"

"That's a little stereotypical coming from you, Blaine." Finn muttered, and Blaine rolled his eyes. "I… was messing up with girls. None of my relationships have lasted. And you weren't having a good time with girls, either, so I thought I'd do what you did and try guys—"

"Try guys?" Blaine repeated again. "Finn, I never tried guys. Kurt wasn't some experiment. I fell in love with him."

"Okay, fine, so you didn't try guys. I'm sorry, that was a bad way to say that." He held up his hands, "But it worked between you and Kurt. So I thought if I…" he looked for a new way to word it, "went out with guys… it might work for me, too. And I liked it, Blaine. It freaked me out a little at first but it was really good. And I want to do it again."

Blaine grimaced, "Gross. Finn, you can't sleep with a bunch of random guys. Just because you think you're gay or bi or whatever doesn't mean you have to jump in bed with every gay guy you see." Sighing, Blaine rubbed his nape, "Look… if you want to… be this way… that's fine. But you're going to be just as miserable with guys as you are girls if you sleep around. Find a guy who can make you happy."

Finn stared at Blaine, his lips parting and his throat moving as he swallowed, "Okay… um… you want to work on this with me?"

Blaine arched a brow at what Finn was doing, "I don't want anything to do with that."

"It's easy." Finn smiled at Blaine, "Come on, I'll show you what to do."

Rolling his eyes, Blaine moved next to Finn. "Okay… what?"

Finn handed a hammer to Blaine, "You can bang that." At Finn's crude wording, Blaine's head snapped up and he stared at Finn. "I mean the nail. Sorry… I'm not trying to make gay references."

Blaine shook his head, "Straights use that, too, Finn." Hitting the nail Finn pointed to, Blaine tried to ignore the way he felt Finn's eyes on his hands. What, now that he thought he was gay or bi or something like that he was obsessed with the way other gay men, including Blaine, moved? Blaine shook that gross thought out of his head.

Finn laid a hand on Blaine's shoulder, "You're really good with your hands… but try to line it up—"

"Finn, please stop talking." Blaine demanded, moving out of Finn's grip. "I… think I'm going to take the babies inside. I have to make their bottles." Getting to his feet, Blaine walked over to the babies and bundled them up in their blanket. Everett hopped off the blanket and onto Blaine's foot.

"Will you be back?" Finn sounded almost desperate.

Blaine threw a quick glance over his shoulder, his brows furrowed, "No… I won't be back. I have a Skype date with Kurt."

"Okay," Finn got back to hitting nails.

Raising his brows at Finn, Blaine carried the babies inside. "Hunter, I hear your stomach growling so I'll make your bottle first." Blaine told the gurgling baby as he yanked at Blaine's bowtie and put his mouth around it. He looked back at Finn once before he shut the door and he was alarmed to find his brown eyes staring up at him. Finn quickly looked back down, and Blaine slammed the door shut. "What is his problem with me?"

Putting the babies on the counter, Blaine started preparing Hunter's bottle and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Kurt…" he whispered, his hands trembling at the thought of the pleasure he would be getting in just an hour, not only from their sex but from seeing Kurt's pretty face. "Kurt… my sweetheart…"

* * *

Kurt turned on his laptop and called Blaine on Skype, and in moments the camera clicked on. Blaine was lying in bed, his hair dripping from a recent shower. Not a strip of clothing covered him. "Oh, Blaine!" Kurt giggled and hid behind his blanket. "You're making me blush!"

"I love your little panties." Blaine muttered, "Lower the blanket. I want to look at you."

Putting the blanket down, Kurt spread his thighs and let Blaine stare at his lacy panties. "These ones are pink. Do you like the pink?"

"I love the pink." Blaine agreed, smiling at Kurt. "Tell me more about your audition. What song did you do?"

"Mm, it was one of my favorites. As If We Never Said Goodbye." Blushing, Kurt whispered, "Blaine, can you spread your legs a little? I want to see." After Blaine lifted his knees and opened them, giving Kurt a good view of his puckered hole and bulging sac, Kurt continued with his story, "I think the judges liked it. They didn't say much about it but… Blaine, I'm so happy. It'll give me something to do when we can't talk, and then I'm going back to Vogue in a week."

"Kurt, I'm really happy for you." Blaine grabbed his cock and squeezed.

"What have you been doing to keep busy?" Kurt murmured, trying to keep his eyes off of Blaine's attention demanding cock. "Oh, how did the swing set go? You didn't smash any fingers, did you? I'll blow them kisses if you did."

"No…" Blaine held up both hands and wiggled his fingers, "but… this finger's a little sore. Must be from masturbating too much."

Kurt laughed and blew Blaine a kiss, "Does it feel better?"

"Yes." Blaine smirked.

Giggling, Kurt hooked his fingers into his spankies and tugged them down a little, "I took a bath today and thought about you. I spent my entire bath rubbing myself and had to refill the tub to finish cleaning because I came in the water."

"That's so hot, Kurt." Shaking his head, Blaine ran a hand down his chest and grabbed his cock again, "Why don't you show me what you did? I'll show you how I masturbate in the shower."

Smiling, Kurt reached between his thighs. "I said your name a lot… because I wanted it to be you washing me."

"Say my name now." Blaine whispered.

Stroking his cock up and down, Kurt moaned, "Oh, Blaine…"

Blaine convulsed, "Kurt… Kurt… I love you."

"I love you, too…" Kurt tossed his head back and rubbed his weeping tip.


	68. A Change Would Do You Good

Author's note: Hi. This chapter isn't that good/interesting. I wrote most of it when I was half asleep so... Anyway, not much happens in this chapter. The next chapter will pretty much be the same way. Kurt will go to rehearsals (I think I'm going to go back and forth between chapters with Kurt at rehearsals and Kurt at Vogue), and Blaine will play with the babies on the swing set. And that's about it. I promise that the angst/interesting stuff will start happening eventually... If you want me to speed up the boring stuff and skip some time, I can and will, but if you like reading these chapters where nothing happens I'll leave it the way it is. Either way I'm fine with it :) Just send me a review/PM with your opinions. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing/favoriting/following! I love all of you.

deshaunwalker: Your review just cracked me up. I'm the same way because I think I've made all of my main/borderline main characters gay and I'm like... _why_...? XD I've been watching a lot of MTF transition and hormone videos on Youtube and I think they're great XD it's just really interesting seeing that kind of thing! I've been watching a lot of rylanaspen (he's on hormones and is transsexual, but hasn't had a surgery done) and he does a lot of flash sale and haul videos where he shows off his clothes... and I don't agree with everything he does because he wears real fur and I'm a member of PETA... but he's still really fashionable and funny. You should look him up! And that's what I do when I have writer's block/am bored... :D

* * *

Kurt clicked down the brick streets of Paris, his heels tapping the ground to a rhythmic beat. Nervously straightening his dress, Kurt ran his fingers through his hair as he approached the building he'd been in a thousand times. He peeked into the glass doors of Vogue, giant posters of half-naked women and men hanging on the walls, the Vogue logo plastered onto the wall behind the desk. He squeaked when a man who looked like a model stormed out of one of the rooms and headed straight for the doors Kurt was standing by. He shouted at someone running after him with a measuring tape, and when he slammed through the doors Kurt could hear, "…when you take your job seriously and buy me the right shade of blue, maybe I'll consider coming back."

His eyes darted briefly to Kurt, who cowered away from him. "Like his eye color," the man gestured violently to Kurt. "Get me his eye color in silk fabric, you idiot." Shooting a sudden grin at Kurt, the man muttered, "You have beautiful eyes."

Kurt blushed as the man whipped away and continued down the sidewalk, leaving him alone again. Glancing back into Vogue now that he was the center of attention, Kurt pushed inside and walked up to the main desk. "Excuse me? I'm Kurt Hummel… can you please tell me where I can find Monsieur Stanley?"

"Kurt Hummel!" the man instantly stood and held his hand out. Kurt hesitantly draped his hand over it. "It's such an honor. Your fashion ideas are brilliant. Stanley is rehearsing a fashion show right now, but I'll take you to him."

"Thank you." Following the man down a wide hallway, Kurt passed many models dressed in the latest summer fashions.

He pushed open a door spilling into a dark room, a song about sex blasting from the speakers. Colored lights swung around the runway, which was in full swing as more models strutted back and forth on it. Stanley was in the front row of the seating, shouting at the women walking around. "Come on! I'd strut better than that if I was sleepwalking!"

The man who led him inside grinned at him, "Good luck."

Approaching the front of the room, Kurt walked up to Stanley and tried to smile, "Excuse me, Monsieur Stanley?"

Stanley barely tore his eyes from the models, "I told you, I wanted iced tea! What is so hard about that to remember?" Finally glancing up at Kurt, Stanley shrieked, "Oh, my superstar! Welcome back! How is my favorite model?" He patted the seat beside him, so Kurt sat down. "Ladies, stop walking! Look at Kurt. An absolute beauty. You could learn a lot from him."

Kurt blushed again, "Hello. You all look fabulous."

"Ignore them." He snapped. "So, tell me…" Stanley turned in his chair to stare at Kurt, "have you been promoting Vogue while you were in—" his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "What is that _thing_ you're wearing?"

Kurt looked down at his dress, "What's wrong with it? I thought everyone at Vogue would like it. Strapless and sparkles are _in_ right now, aren't they?"

"Well, yes…" Stanley covered his mouth with his hand, "but, superstar, you cannot be seen in that. It was made in Ohio… all of the fabric there is cheap and tacky. You need a new wardrobe. Get rid of anything and everything from Ohio. It's _disgusting._"

"But my fiancé bought me this dress." Kurt pulled at the bodice. "And I think it's very pretty."

"Obviously you never should have gone to Ohio…" Stanley rolled his eyes. "Your fashion tastes are all jumbled together. Fine, keep that thing, but stuff it in a drawer somewhere. If I see you wearing _anything_ from Ohio again, I will fire you."

"Okay." was the only thing Kurt said, his voice meek and his cheeks red.

Stanley easily forgot about the subject, and he pointed at the models on the runway, "Superstar, tell me which one of those outfits you hate the most. Because I can't decide… they're all so hideous. Or maybe it's the girls that are the eye sores." He snapped his fingers, "Bring me new girls!"

Kurt looked over his shoulder to see who Stanley was talking to, and in the very back of the room a girl stood up. Kurt could see that she had a keen eye for fashion. The colors in her outfit of a mini skirt with leggings and a glittery tank top were too bold for Kurt's liking, but she pulled them off very well. The girl looked annoyed with Stanley, "Which ones? You have dozens."

Kurt recognized the voice, but he didn't recognize the face. Stanley rolled his eyes, "Don't get snippy with me. Actually… just bring me some men. I want to look at some men for a while."

The girl looked directly at Kurt, and one brow raised. Kurt whispered, "Unique?"

Stanley hadn't heard him, but the girl stepped toward him, "So, you came back to France."

"Unique!" Kurt squeaked, then he remembered that he and Unique had left each other on bad terms. He quickly settled down. "Unique… you got a surgery done?"

Unique looked down at her body as if to check if her chest was still inflated. "Yeah… I did. Just a few months ago. The changes aren't completely over… I still have a lot of boy in me."

"I'm so happy for you." Kurt smiled at her.

Glancing up and down Kurt's body, Unique muttered, "And you're still the same Kurt… pastel baby doll clothes and high heels."

Kurt didn't know if her condescending tone meant that she was saying it as an insult, so he tilted his head and switched the subject, "How have you been, Unique?" He turned and asked Stanley, "Can I please talk to Unique?"

Stanley glared at him, "You might as well, seeing as you two are already chatting it up. But send me in a new assistant! And, Unique, you're not getting paid to socialize."

She rolled her eyes and turned around when Kurt approached her, "I've been dating. But mostly pampering myself because I've been recovering from my surgery."

"Are you and David still together?" Kurt chirped.

"Kind of," she shrugged. "It's been hard with the distance. I'm guessing you and Blaine broke things off? Considering you're here… and not there."

"No…" Kurt shook his head, holding up his left hand. "Blaine and I are fine. We're engaged. But I'm happy to hear about you and David." When she didn't respond and kept walking away from him, Kurt followed her and said, "Unique… are you still mad at me?"

She sighed as if it was a pain to talk to him, "Kurt, I was never mad at you. I'm just… embarrassed now. The way I acted was completely immature… I'm sorry I made you feel like total shit."

Kurt blushed at the strong, rude word, "But, Unique… you yelled at me. And then you put distance between us. What's the matter?"

She whipped around and crossed her arms, "You can't be that oblivious, Kurt. I said I was sorry… don't make me spell this out for you."

"Spell what out?"

Her brows lifted, "You really don't get it, do you? I had a crush on you, Kurt. I thought it was pretty obvious. But you never wanted me back. You thought of me as a… best friend. And then that Blaine guy shows up out of nowhere… and I did like him, Kurt. Don't get me wrong. But it was a slap in the face that you liked some guy who's nothing like you and not even your type more than you liked me. We have so much in common… but he still won."

"You had a crush on me?" Kurt whispered, surprised. "Unique… I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"You had to have known." Unique rolled her eyes again, "Men flirt with you all the time. I was always fumbling around you… I loved spending time with you… You hurt my feelings, Kurt."

"Unique, I didn't know!" Kurt repeated, shaking his head. "I don't know when men are coming onto me… sometimes it's obvious, yes… but, Unique, Blaine is my first love. I've never had a boyfriend before him. I'm naïve about men. Blaine is such a demanding man and he wouldn't stop until he had me—"

"Just because he made it clear that he wanted in your pants you got in a relationship with him?" Unique grumbled, resting her chin on her fist. "Okay… he got me there. I didn't tell you I liked you. But why were you never interested in me? You and him have _nothing_ in common. We're just alike, Kurt."

Kurt wrapped his arms around his stomach, "Oh… Unique. I'm so sorry. I thought… we were best friends because we were so alike. I enjoyed being around you… but all we wanted to do was shop and watch movies. A relationship should be passionate… you should look into each other's eyes for hours and never want to do anything else… you also need challenged. And we never challenged each other… Unique, you would have bored of me if we were in a relationship. But Blaine is such a challenge… and he makes me feel so… beautiful. He can stare at me for hours."

"But what about his awful personality?" Unique crossed her arms. "Kurt, he's the exact opposite of you. You're fashionable… friendly… cheerful… you actually like people. But he's so… not friendly or cheerful. He glares at everyone. It freaked me out a little."

"He's just quiet." Kurt shook his head, "He's not mean at all. He's actually very sweet… he likes to laugh. He never meant to make you uncomfortable… he thought you were very nice. But, Unique, you should see him with the babies. He's so happy…" Shaking his head, Kurt whispered, "He and I are very alike… but we're so different somehow."

Unique put one hand on her hip, "Babies?"

"Oh, they're not ours!" Kurt giggled, putting his fingertips to his lips. "Blaine's brother had a baby and Blaine is raising him for a while, and a friend of ours just gave him her baby. He's wonderful with the babies… he spoils them."

"Where is Blaine at?" Unique muttered. "It sounds like… he's not with you."

"He's still in Ohio." Kurt said and he wasn't surprised by the sadness in his voice. "I'm going back in a year to be with him again."

Unique's eyes widened, "What do you mean, you're leaving? But you just got back. Kurt, you can't just drop your career for a boy, and Stanley definitely won't let you put it on hold anymore."

"Unique, I'll be alright." Kurt promised him. "Blaine isn't ready to come to France yet… so until he is I'll stay with him. We'll marry and have our honeymoon… and then I'll take care of the babies."

Unique rolled his eyes, "You have a good career in front of you… and you're just going to throw it away and become a housewife? Kurt, you'll be miserable. No guy is worth that, not even Blaine. You've got to find someone who can keep up with you… most likely a French guy… you can't be torn between two continents."

"But I love Blaine."

"You also love your career…" Unique shrugged, "or you should. Which is more important to you? I would give up David if my career was suffering because of him." Taking a step away from Kurt, Unique said, "Look… I need this money so I have to get back to my job."

"Superstar!" Someone called from across the room, and Kurt glanced up to see Stanley waving him down. "I have big plans for you." Stanley shoved a folder into Kurt's fingers. "I changed my mind about those pictures we trashed from your last professional photo shoot. We're bringing them back! It'll be your… big debut… get people excited to see the new and improved Kurt Hummel."

"New and improved?" Kurt opened the folder and a pile of pictures slid out.

"I'm thinking lingerie pictures…" Stanley waved his hands around as he explained everything to Kurt, "miniskirts… see-through dresses… Now that you've lost all of your baby fat we can put you in anything skimpy."

"Skimpy?" Kurt flushed as a few of the men around him started laughing and patting each other's shoulders.

"Yes," Stanley patted him on the back, "I'm having a designer whip something up for your first photo shoot. You'll look fantastic, superstar." Raising his hand, Stanley snapped. "Everyone… our own Kurt Hummel is back. Give him a round of applause and make sure he knows how gorgeous he is. He's going to make me big bucks… bigger than what any of you lousy models have ever dragged in."

Kurt frowned as nearly everyone in the room started clapping, and he laid his hand on his cramping stomach. "Please excuse me, Monsieur Stanley. I need a glass of water." He walked out of the room and searched for one of the nearest bathrooms, then he locked himself inside. He boosted himself onto the counter and started to cry.

This wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted Blaine to come hold him and kiss him until he was better, but he'd left Blaine. He was starting to think he'd made a mistake.

* * *

Blaine carried his babies under his arms and threw himself back on the couch in the living room. He lifted both of them above his head, his strong hands cupping their little bodies. Hunter gurgled and batted at him, but Archer carefully watched his face. "Look at his little smirk…" Carole patted Hunter's bottom as she passed by. "We can tell what kind of personality he'll have. Blaine, don't you dare drop them."

"I'm not going to drop them." Blaine rolled his eyes, cuddling Archer against his chest when he squirmed. "You're okay, sweetheart. Is your belly upset?" Pulling up Archer's shirt, Blaine pressed wet kisses to it.

Hunter squeaked and kicked his feet, his tiny fists grabbing at Blaine. Archer snuggled into Blaine's chest and batted at Hunter, and Hunter's nose wrinkled. He opened his mouth and a little giggle bubbled out of him. "His first giggle!" Carole immediately reached for her camera. "Oh, Kurt would love to see this! Blaine, make him giggle again!"

"I didn't do anything." Blaine muttered, stroking Hunter's hair out of his face. "I think he likes Archer." He lowered Hunter to his chest, and Hunter grabbed Archer's face.

"Oh, aren't they sweet?" She pushed a button on the camera and held it up to her eye. "Hunter, Archer… come here. Smile at the camera."

Wiggling toward Archer, Hunter squished their faces together and his smirk widened. Archer batted at Hunter and grinned. "My babies," Blaine whispered, smoothing their hair.

"You know, this is the most relaxed I've ever seen you, Blaine." Burt muttered, looking up from his newspaper. "When you're with those babies. It's good to see you spending so much time with them. I think it's healthy for all three of you."

Hunter babbled something and patted Blaine's face. Taking Hunter's little hand, Blaine kissed his palm. "I love them, Burt." Blaine nuzzled Archer's charcoal spirals.

Carole smiled, but was interrupted by Finn pushing open his door, "Dude… I don't know why you haven't taken the babies out yet. The swing set's ready."

"It's not good for the babies to be out when it's so bright, Finn." Carole explained, "Especially little Archer. He's paler than Kurt. I'm sure Blaine will take them out later."

"Good. I want to come out, too." Blaine rolled his eyes at Finn's inappropriate joke. Finn walked up to Blaine's couch, so Blaine hesitantly moved his legs even though there was another empty chair across the room. Finn sat down beside him, "Dude… are you wearing a new cologne?"

Blaine leaned away from him, keeping his babies to his chest, "Yes."

"It smells good." was the only thing Finn said, but it was enough to make Blaine get up like Finn had sprayed a repellant for gay guys on himself.

"I'm going to put the babies down for a nap." Blaine excused himself, heading up the stairs with the babies on his shoulders. After he locked himself in his room, Blaine laid the babies in their crib and sat down on his bed. He opened his laptop and saw a Skype IM from Kurt, _I need to see you._

Immediately calling Kurt, Blaine watched as his camera clicked on. It was later for Kurt, so his lights were off and he was lying on his bed in his pajamas. "Hi, sweetheart…" Blaine murmured unsurely. "Are you okay?"

Kurt wiped his eyes with a tissue, "I'm having a hard time fitting in at Vogue."

"Kurt…" Blaine shook his head, "what do you mean? You're fashionable and beautiful… What's the matter, my little love? I'll fix it."

Frowning, Kurt laid back on his pillow, "Nobody likes my clothes from Ohio… but I think some of my dresses and shoes are very pretty. And… I saw Unique. She had a surgery done. But… when I talked to her she told me she had a crush on me. She seemed so resentful toward me… I told her I was sorry that I didn't know she liked me."

"Oh, honey…" Rubbing his nape, Blaine cleared his throat, "she'll get over it. Besides, isn't she dating one of the Warblers? Don't worry about it. No one can stay mad at your pretty face for long."

Kurt smiled, "It's just… hard. I miss having you there to support me. And Vogue is such a demanding career… I feel exhausted and I've only been there for one day."

"It'll get better, I promise." Blaine assured him, "You're good at keeping a smile on your face. And you always have my support, Kurt."

Kurt snuggled under his blankets, "I think I'm going to sleep now, Blaine."

"Leave your camera on." Blaine whispered, "You'll feel better if I'm here… and so will I."

"Mm…" Curling himself into a small ball, Kurt murmured, "Goodnight, Blaine. I love you."

"Goodnight, my sweet love." Blaine watched Kurt lay his lashes on his cheeks and his chest rise and fall much slower after a few minutes. "I love you…"

From the crib, Hunter gurgled. Blaine glanced up at him and grinned, "I'm still here, Hunter." He quietly stood and went to get his babies, then carried them back to the bed. His eyes darted back to Kurt.

Kurt moaned and tightened his ball, "Blaine…"

Blaine blinked at the slumbering boy, "I'm still here."


	69. I'm Still Here

Author's note: Hi :) Another short chapter, but I think I like it... it's dramatic. I decided to speed things up because those chapters with nothing in them were starting to bore me. So we'll see how this goes. My story, from this chapter until the end of the year Kurt is in France, is about to get really dark. Blaine's going to be doing some really terrible things, so just thought I'd warn everyone on where I'm going with this. And, yes, if you're all wondering, Brody is the cause of the angst and the reason all of it happens is in this chapter.

deshaunwalker: You'll get to see Kurt becoming more and more upset about France, don't worry :) He loves his Blainey more :D EVERYBODY is saying that Alex was a total ass. I didn't watch much of the Glee Project so I basically just know him as Unique and I like Unique... not one of my favorites but I do like him/her. Um... the fight between Kurt and Unique was more between Blaine and Unique (big shocker there... :P besides, Kurt doesn't really fight) about Unique suddenly treating Kurt badly because he didn't like his and Blaine's relationship. That was about it. BTW Brody's back! Wooo. That's total sarcasm... I hate him so much -.- Just remember how much Kurt and Blaine love each other ^_^ they're the perfect couple. To quote my Blainey... "I'm still here." :D

* * *

Laying his trembling fingertips on Brody's arms, Kurt swished his hips and his lacy dress twirled around his legs, licking his inner thighs. Brody pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him, "Have you changed your mind?" He muttered from between his teeth so the choreographers didn't catch him losing focus.

Kurt spun at the right moment and Brody caught his legs, lifting him above his head. Leaning almost all the way back, Kurt spread his legs and slid back down Brody's chest. Once he whirled around to face Brody, Kurt whispered, "I don't understand."

"Good, Kurt. Use your hips a little more." The choreographer clapped for them. "Go down for the dip gently. Brody, lose your scowl. This is a very intimate scene."

Neither Kurt nor Brody felt very intimate. Clutching Kurt tighter, Brody dropped him toward the ground and spun him in a circle. "Don't act like you don't remember two weeks ago." Pulling Kurt back up, Brody made a lap around him, both of their palms up and pressed together. "I asked you to go to lunch with me. It's just lunch. And Brody Weston doesn't like rejection."

"I'm sorry, Brody." Kurt kicked one leg up and wrapped it around Brody's arm. "But it's more than that to me. My fiancé would be hurt if he knew."

"So, don't tell him." Brody spun Kurt so his back was pressed to his chest, and he kicked Kurt's leg out from under him. Kurt fell against Brody. "You know, your fiancé's really starting to sound like a control freak. What if it was a double date?"

"Date." Kurt whispered, turning back around and shimmying his hips. "Brody… this isn't so bad, seeing each other at rehearsals."

"It is for me." He muttered, "I've never had a guy reject me. You'd be the first. You know, what's with this guy? He's fine with letting you go to the city of love and dance with other men on stage, but you can't have coffee with me?"

"Of course he minds, Brody." Kurt softened his voice when the choreographer turned up the music as if to warn them to be quiet. "He's my fiancé… and he's a jealous man over me. But these are my choices… he would never try to control me. It's just… I think it's appropriate to dance with other men as long as we keep our distance and our hands from…" he blushed as he thought of the right word, "going lower… and it's my choice to not be alone with you. Blaine would never be alone with another man… I know he wouldn't."

Brody smirked, "You never know that, sweet cheeks. That's the problem with distant relationships. You could be keeping your clothes on around me, but is your control freak fiancé really that devoted—?"

"Don't talk about Blaine like that!" Kurt squeaked, resisting stamping Brody's foot.

"Kurt, Brody," the music shut off, "come on… let's take a five minute break. When we get back, no bickering."

"Brody Weston doesn't bicker." Brody snorted while Kurt scurried off to put his shoes back on. He followed Kurt over to his dance bag and leaned against the wall, "So, you're really not into me?"

Kurt's toes curled as he tried to slip his flat on, "Brody, you're making me uncomfortable."

"That doesn't answer my question." Brody leaned down and grabbed Kurt's chin, forcing him to look directly into his blue eyes. "I think you're avoiding it. What, you've only been with… one man. Right? Your fiancé. Sweet cheeks, you're nineteen. Don't tie yourself down just because you think you love him. And even if you do… you can give yourself just one night. I'm sure your fiancé would approve of your happiness. And if you like, he wouldn't even have to know—"

Kurt was starting to tremble very hard, "What are you asking me, Brody? You're frightening me."

Brody leaned closer, "Let me kiss you. If you don't like it, you can kick me in the balls. But I'll sleep with you if you do. I'll get you warmed up to men. You don't have to be shy with them anymore… or hide behind your fiancé. You're miles and miles away from him. He's probably with someone right now. Don't you deserve to be treated by a man—?"

"Brody, please stop." Kurt pushed him away. "I feel ill. I need… I need some time alone in my dressing room."

"That ill feeling?" Brody followed him down the hallway, stalking after his quick, little steps. "Is it a deep burn in your stomach? Do you feel chilled? I made you feel that. You don't even know what attraction is."

"No…" Kurt shook his head and frantically wiped his wet eyes, "Brody, I feel sick. Please stop following me." Reaching his room, Kurt started to shut himself inside but Brody quickly grabbed the door and forced himself in. "B-Brody, you're scaring me. I'll scream if you come any closer."

Brody prowled deeper into his room, "Brody Weston can make you scream. Admit that you want me. There's nothing wrong with it." Lunging at Kurt, Brody collected his tiny body and pulled him close, and Kurt blinked as a flash went off.

Brody quickly let him go, "Hey! Get the fuck out of here!" He shouted at a man in the doorway. "We don't need paparazzi."

Shaking from his head to his toes, Kurt squeaked when Brody got near again, "Please leave. Brody… leave."

Brody sat back on his heels, "You're being serious? I thought you were being a tease. You really don't want all of this?" Pulling up his shirt, Brody rubbed his abs.

Kurt mewled and pinned himself against a wall, "N-No… I don't tease. Please leave. I don't want to see you."

Brody's face fell and he dropped his shirt, "Well, that's a first. Will you come back to rehearsals? I swear, I won't rape you or anything. I actually thought you liked me."

Closing his eyes when Brody passed by, Kurt whispered, "I need time to think. You terrified me, Brody."

"Whoops." was the only thing Brody said, almost as if he'd ripped an outfit or broken a nail. "Sorry. But… call me if you change your mind. Brody Weston's still into you."

Kurt's bottom lip trembled after the door clicked shut, and he felt wet tears roll down his cheeks. Sinking to the floor, Kurt sat on his bottom and buried his face in his knees. He whimpered and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing in his aunt's number. She picked up after a minute, "Hey, sweetie. How was your first day at rehearsals? I picked up some cheesecake to celebrate."

Kurt tried to keep his voice from quivering, "Thank you, Aunt Laurice. Can you come pick me up?"

"What's the matter?" His aunt suddenly sounded concerned. "Sweetie, have you been crying?"

He closed his eyes. Blaine couldn't find out about this—and she would most likely tell his dad who would tell Blaine—or he'd lose his mind and probably force himself to come to France, and Kurt didn't want to panic him or rush him. He just had to keep quiet about it and get through the rehearsals and never be alone with Brody again. "I stubbed my toe." Kurt sniffed, hating lying to her but knowing that it was his only choice. "It's very sore now."

His aunt chuckled a little, "Sure, sweetie. Want me to bring some ice? I'll be over in five minutes."

Kurt put his phone down and he wrapped his arms around his knees. He was so scared and cold, and he'd never felt this lonely before. He wanted Blaine, but Blaine wouldn't walk through that door and pick him up and kiss his damp tears running over his lips.

Kurt started to cry harder.

* * *

Blaine sat down on the hard swing dangling from the swing set and pushed his feet back and forth. He draped Archer over his shoulder and sat Hunter on his lap, Everett on his knee. Boosting himself into a gentle swinging motion so the babies wouldn't get upset, Blaine laughed as Archer pawed at Pavarotti, who was chasing Blaine's swaying feet. Stopping the swing, Blaine let Pavarotti hop onto his foot.

Sighing, Blaine tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He suddenly heard grass crunching and looked back up, spotting Finn. "You look frustrated." Finn commented, lowering onto one of the bars holding the swing up. "Still mad at the swing set?"

"No," Blaine started pushing them again when Hunter gurgled, his eyes on the ground as they moved back and forth. "I… I miss Kurt. He would have loved this swing set."

Finn hesitantly smiled, dragging his fingers through the grass. "He'll get to see it one day. But he did like to play. Remember when we played Mario Kart together and he kept driving backwards?"

A sad smile tugged Blaine's lips, "Yes."

Finn stayed quiet for a moment, then he murmured, "Have you heard from him since he started back at Vogue?"

"Yeah." Blaine said again, "We don't have Skype dates every night… he gets busy or tired. But I text him every morning."

"How is he doing? Does he like it there?"

Blaine didn't know what to say to that. Kurt seemed very confused himself, and Kurt always either liked something or didn't like it. He was never torn like he was over this. He kept swinging himself, listening to Archer's soft coos. Turning his head, Blaine kissed Archer's hair, "I love you, sweetheart."

Archer looked at him with his big, blue eyes, and his dimples popped. He mumbled and patted Blaine's face, happily grinning at him. Finn spoke up again, "What are you going to do when Cooper takes his baby back?"

Blaine glared over Archer's head, clutching the baby to his chest. "I don't want to talk about that."

"You don't talk much at all," Finn drew in the grass again. "Is that just you trying to keep me out… or is that with everyone?"

Blaine had nothing to say to that so he went back to cuddling his babies. Closing his eyes, Blaine whispered, "I think I want to go inside. Hunter's starting to yawn." Standing from the swing, Blaine carried his babies inside and walked up the stairs.

He pushed into his room and frowned at the lack of decoration or dressers filled with moisturizers and makeup. It still bothered Blaine. Laying the babies in their crib, Blaine watched them snuggle into each other and kissed both of their foreheads. "I love you, my little sweethearts." He walked over to his bed and sat down, opening his laptop.

It was about seven, so it had to have been very late where Kurt was. They always had Skype dates around this time, and Kurt had promised that he would have time today. He typed in an IM, _Hi, beautiful._

He waited a little while, but Kurt didn't appear. Blaine felt absolutely crushed. "I'm still here," he whispered, unsure if he was saying it more to Kurt or himself. "I'm still here, Kurt… my love."


	70. When I Was Your Man

Author's note: Hi guys :) I feel terrible for all of these short chapters... but I'm trying to work around school (which seems to want to control my life) and I didn't like just writing on the weekends so now I'm trying to write after school which means I'll be working around homework and all of that. So yeah... this is what happens. I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter. I feel like it's a total mess, actually. I wrote a few drafts of it and hated those even more... but this one turned out the best. Sorry if it's not that great :/ Once I get out of school for summer break I'll get back to much longer, more detailed, and generally better chapters. Besides, I think I'm trying to force my way through this next year as much as the next person. Soo... anyway... more rehearsals coming up. I'll probably start focusing more on those because they have Brody. And then Blaine will be doing bad things, as I mentioned. But that's about it. Thanks to my Beta for her lovely ideas (especially of Blaine punching the wall and the babies. I love my babies!)

deshaunwalker: I explained my quick updates in my author's note ^ :) So they got rid of Brody? I don't watch the show anymore because it was starting to affect my writing... I thought he'd be a main character or something? Sadly, in my story, Klaine won't be interacting much anymore :/

Luz Estrella: I'm sorry! But unlike the show, I don't take pleasure in this. This is actually hurting me just as badly. Thanks, I'm not sure I like my writing style but I'm glad you like it :) yay for quick updates!

prosen8966: I smiled when I saw your review and my friends looked at me like I was really weird -.- don't even care... :) Aww I love Kurt's pov! He always views things like there are bunnies and rainbows and happiness involved so I always like writing from his pov. Blaine's proposal... good times. I was really worried about just kind of putting the attack scene in there, but it will be talked about more later on. A special character will come back and bring a lot of memories for Kurt :) Oh, the smut scene... that was all kinds of interesting to write. And I loved AIWNSG too! Ohmygoodness that's one of Kurt's best songs. It's so pretty and I thought it fit that scene perfectly. Okay, Finn's new way of life does have a purpose and you seem to figure things out quickly so I'm sure you already know where I'm going with that. I do think Finn is too casual about relationships but that's really just his personality. Stanley does kind of live in his own little world where everything revolves around him... he doesn't really care as long as he's getting popularity, fame, and money. He was just threatened by Blaine so that's why he backed off a little, but now everything's back to him. Yeah... I was debating how Unique and Kurt could see each other after basically six months of not speaking and being separated by a fight. I wanted to make them good friends again but that's not how I wrote it... so I'm going with it and seeing where it ends up. I really didn't want Brody to act psychotic! I was trying everything to make him seem like himself, but I have a thing for writing about psychotic men... plus him chasing Kurt down didn't really help. Kurt's just keeping quiet about what happened because he doesn't want to freak Blaine out... it has nothing to do with him wanting to take it on by himself. If he and Blaine were still in the same country, he would tell him, but he doesn't want Blaine panicking and forcing himself to come to France (which Blaine would definitely do if he thought some psycho was going to rape Kurt.) Yeah, the picture comes back hard in this one... this is probably my worst chapter ever. I hated writing it, and that's probably why it sounds so bad :P Ohmygoodness. Glee!Brody sounds like a self-centered dick. Poor Kurt. I can just imagine him sleepily eating Cheerios and then crying when some weirdo walks in without clothes. My baby! Brody just needs to stop. I hate him. Oh, and about your question, I looked through all of my chapters and I think Blaine did mention going to California for a few months with Kurt, but he was saying it more as a fantasy that will never happen. I was worried I'd made a continuation error or something... let me know if you ever see those. I'll correct them... I'm kind of a perfectionist about my story. Anyway, the beach house will eventually be important, but as of now I have no plot going for it. BTW, I love that you love my story :) it makes me happy... even though I hate my story right now. I shouldn't have done this to myself... regretting it. Oh, if you don't mind keep me updated on your nephew and sister!

* * *

Pointing his toes at the ceiling, Kurt laid back on the white bench with the sparkles glittering on it. A camera flash made him blink, but he managed to paste a smile onto his face and pose for the photo shoot. He lowered his legs and his little skirt fell onto his thighs, his tight bodice hugging his stomach. "Beautiful, superstar," Stanley encouraged him while they snapped pictures. "Work the cameras. Lift your legs again."

He laid his cheek on the cool bench and closed his eyes, softly humming to himself to tune out the constant click of the camera. Touching his hand to his hair on command, Kurt wriggled so his hip was pressed to the hard surface. He opened his eyes again, looking straight at the bright camera. Glancing around, Kurt spotted Unique handing a glass of tea to Stanley, and a few boys behind Stanley. He rested his lashes on his cheeks.

The camera stopped flashing but Kurt stayed where he was, peacefully lying on the bench. He didn't want to lift his head and have his hair yanked at and combed this way and that, new gloss smeared on his lips, or his outfit to be straightened or tightened. It was already clenching his stomach so tightly that he was having trouble getting a full breath of air. He wanted to stay like this.

Someone dabbed blush onto his cheek, "Can you turn your head? I need to get your other side."

Kurt hesitantly sat up and kept his eyes closed as his cheeks were brightened. "I'm tired." He whispered, really feeling exhausted. He wanted to go home with his aunt and curl up on her lap and shut his eyes. Or call Blaine, who was very good at keeping him awake.

Stanley ignored him, "Alright, superstar, for the next fifty frames I want you to straddle the bench. Spread your knees wide."

Kurt helplessly yawned, his chin drooping. "I'm sleepy." He tried again, but Stanley turned his back on him.

"Can we get another two hours with you for a discount?" He begged the photographer, who he was paying by the hour.

As soon as the makeup artist finished touching up his makeup, Kurt lay back down and closed his eyes. They'd been going at this for three hours, perfecting his pictures, throwing him into dressing rooms for outfit changes that were starting to chafe his skin, pulling his hair, swiping his eyes with liner, and he was exhausted. He yawned again.

A few of the guys snickered, and Kurt looked up at them. "I bet you are tired after all that you've been giving up."

Another guy laughed aloud, slapping the first on the chest, and he lowered his voice, "I bet his ass is so plump because it's full of semen."

Kurt blushed and pulled away from them, "That's not very nice."

They frowned at him as if he'd offended them, "Whatever… slut."

Kurt sat upright, startled by the sudden mean name. "That was very mean." He whispered to no one in particular.

He jumped when another guy approached him, "That's okay… Ignore them. I'd totally do you. I think you have a nice ass." Holding his fingers up to his ear and mouth, he whispered, "Call me, okay?"

"Hm?" Kurt looked at the other men in the room, some of them turned away but others staring at him. Surprised, Kurt made himself as small as possible and kept his eyes on his lap. His fingers trembled and his toes curled.

Another person stepped toward him, but Kurt recognized the voice, "Don't bother with them. They're assholes."

Kurt looked up at Unique, "Why is everyone mad at me?" he peeped, avoiding looking anywhere except at Unique's face. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You can't be serious." She put a hand on her hip, rolling her eyes. "You can't just get involved with Brody Weston and not expect guys to think you're a slut. Brody Weston is the biggest man-whore in France. He's slept with every guy and he doesn't take relationships seriously. Besides, you're already engaged and it looks bad if you're hugging Brody Weston. Don't be stupid about this, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "But Brody Weston and I aren't—" He stopped talking when she lost interest and walked away. Pulling his knees to his chest, Kurt dared a peek at the men around him, and he was startled to find them still looking at him as if he was something they scraped off their shoes.

His eyes blurred with tears.

What had he done wrong?

* * *

Blaine laid the babies on their bellies and watched them wriggle across the bed, squirming only a few inches and almost hitting their heads on each other. He smiled and patted Archer's bottom, rolling onto his back and picking him up. He held Archer above his head, staring into his blue eyes. "You have Kurt's eyes…" he whispered, and Archer blinked, his fan of black lashes batting against his cheeks. "Round and blue."

Hunter shrilly squealed from beside of him, and Blaine glanced up and rubbed his back. "And you just like attention." Batting at Blaine, Hunter spastically kicked his feet. Blaine laid Archer down beside of Hunter, and the two babies snuggled into each other. Blaine laid his head down beside of them and nuzzled Archer's thick curls with his nose and lips. "My little babies…"

Interrupted by a knock on the door, Blaine glared over his shoulder as Finn kicked it open. "Hey… Blaine." He shut the door behind himself and cleared his throat. His skin was pale and he seemed shaken by something. "There's something I need to show you."

Blaine furrowed his brows, and he lifted himself into a sitting position. "What is it?"

Finn stayed glued to the door, "Listen… um… you know my brother loves you." Blaine arched his brows, but he didn't say anything. "Blaine… if K-Kurt—"

"Just show me." Blaine snapped, holding his hand out for the magazine Finn was clutching. Finn reluctantly handed it over, his hand shaking as he set it in Blaine's palm. "Is Kurt okay? Did he call you?" Looking at the front of the magazine, Blaine arched his brows at the picture on the cover. A blond man who looked like he could be a model dominated the picture, his massive body covering a tiny boy who Blaine instantly recognized. Kurt looked very startled, his round eyes staring up at the blond man. The blond man was holding Kurt so tightly, his face very close to Kurt's.

Blaine's bottom lip trembled, but he managed to read the caption at the bottom, _New beau? What about the old one?_ The last two words were circled with an arrow pointing from them to Kurt's engagement ring.

Shuddering, Blaine kept staring at the intimate picture, the blond man's body practically wrapped around Kurt's. "Blaine…" Finn tried, laying his hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"What's his name?" Blaine choked, his eyes directly on the blond man. "Who is he?"

"I don't know—" Finn tried, but stopped talking when Blaine dropped the magazine to the floor. "Blaine, are you okay? You want me to call Kurt? He probably has a reason for doing it… it might just be a one-time thing." Blaine didn't respond, his eyes glued to the blankets, never moving, never wandering to Finn. "Are you okay?" Finn asked again. "Blaine—"

"Get out." was the only thing Blaine said. "Get out before I punch you."

Finn stayed by the bed, "It's probably not what it looks like—"

"I know what it looks like." Blaine whispered, his eyes stuck to the bed. He clenched the sheets in his fingers, "That he was better for Kurt… that he was nicer… he didn't have a temper… he never fucked women… he was never raped… he didn't have a fucking psycho obsessed with him."

Finn swallowed, "Blaine, if you would just call Kurt—"

Blaine suddenly held up his palms, showing him the white scars slashed across them, "For _what,_ Finn? I was fooling myself all along! I could see him getting more distant, and now I know that he's—" Blaine pointed at the blond man, "—why. Kurt's so beautiful and kind… and what the fuck am I?" Slamming his fist into the wall, Blaine heard the babies start crying and he collapsed to the bed. He should have seen this coming. He was everything Kurt wasn't, everything Kurt didn't need… like a toxin. Karofsky had poisoned everything good in him and Kurt was finally with a man who was better for him.

Blaine should have been happy for him… even Blaine wanted to move on from himself. But he could actually hear his heart breaking, a low thunder in his ears. Falling onto his side, Blaine screamed into his palms, hard bumps from the scarring rubbing his cheeks. He dug his fingernails into his skin and started peeling. He thought he heard Finn telling him to stop, but he didn't listen.

He wanted to bleed… distract himself from the pain in his shattering heart.

He would never love again, not after the way he felt about Kurt.

* * *

Kurt sat down on his bed and finished tying his robe, his damp hair falling over his forehead. He pushed it off his face and lay down on his stomach, tucking one hand under his chin. Opening the laptop, Kurt typed in an IM to Blaine, _Blaine?_

His aunt knocked on his door, "Hey, sweetie. I'm going to make some toast before I go to bed. Do you want some?"

"No, thank you." Kurt shook his head, happily smiling when she kissed his forehead.

She glanced at his laptop, "Skyping Blaine? Tell him I said hi." Rubbing his shoulder, she started to leave.

Kurt glanced back at his laptop and waited for Blaine to call him, then frowned when after a few minutes he didn't get a reply. He typed in another message, _I miss you. I want to see your face._

He waited about ten minutes but nothing happened, so he called Blaine on his own. Blaine didn't answer.

He wasn't here anymore.


	71. Somebody That I Used to Know

Author's note: Don't hate me. I know what I'm doing with this story... and I had this all planned out before RIB turned Klaine into fuck buddies. I won't be turning Klaine into fuck buddies and I won't be pulling a RIB on this story. So... now that I've gotten that out of the way... all of you are going to start to see Blaine acting a little insane. And Kurt's going to be more depressed. But... that's about it without giving everything away. Thanks to my lovely Beta for the bird!pillow fort idea :)

deshaunwalker: I know, the conclusion jump was pretty bad :/ but right now this story is falling apart for me. I'm regretting going this route. I didn't want to give up on Glee (it's still really hard for me to not turn it on whenever it is on) but it was starting to bother me and writing Blaine got really hard because I kept mixing my Blaine up with the one on the show and they're completely different and so... I just gave it up so I could keep this story going. If Klaine ever gets back together (in a romantic way, not as fuck buddies) I'll consider watching it again... but for now I'm good with just writing this :)

Luz Estrella: I'm sorry! I feel terrible :( and this is really hard for me to write... I don't enjoy writing this. I don't actually know why I decided to do this... it's getting pretty hard to write. But I appreciate that you're sticking with it :) Klaine happy endings!

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I totally understand, school is taking over everything for me :( Oh gosh... I just spent about three hours looking up Klaine pics/fan art and fangirling over them... Wooo fangirl. XD They're just so attractive!

midnightsun232: Your review just made my day! Oh my gosh this story is so long, I can't believe you read all of it! Thank you so much, that is a big compliment :D

* * *

"_Blaine… my first photo shoot pictures were released today! I can't wait to email them to you. Call me back… I want to hear your voice."_

"_I'm about to leave for Vogue but I wanted you to know that I love you. Text me today… I miss hearing from you."_

"_Blaine… I'm worried. I haven't heard from you in a week. Is something wrong?"_

"_Blaine, I feel like crying! I'm scared… why won't you talk to me? Please… I miss you."_

"_You're not picking up but I just wanted to tell you goodnight and to sleep well. I love you."_

"_Blaine…"_

"Blaine… please talk to me. I don't understand why you won't answer my calls. I miss you so much… I love you." Ending the unanswered call, Kurt stuck his phone in his purse and hesitantly pushed through the Rogue Theatre doors. He was instantly greeted by a few men who grinned at his arrival and punched each other on their chests. Wrapping his arms around himself, Kurt tried to smile at them and walked past them. He opened the theatre doors and caught a glimpse of a rehearsal of the first scene with the Beast's servants.

Kurt quietly padded up to the front of the room, keeping his eyes on the fantastic dancers and singers. After they finished their first number, Kurt patted his fingertips together to show them that he liked it. "You know, you don't have to applaud them." Someone said from behind him, and Kurt whirled around to face Brody. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he took a step back. Brody smiled at him and slipped into one of the front rows, patting the seat beside him. "Hey there. You must not hate me that much if you decided to come back."

Not wanting to make a scene and disrupt the rehearsal, Kurt sat down a seat away from Brody. "I liked their performance." He said, uncomfortably crossing his ankles. "They're very good, Brody."

"Whatever." Brody frowned and reached across the empty seat between them to touch Kurt's shoulder. "Did you come back because of Brody Weston, sweet cheeks?"

Kurt didn't answer that, his lips pursing as he pulled his phone from his purse. He checked his calls and none of them were from Blaine. Brody suddenly shifted from his seat and scooted into the one next to Kurt, making Kurt move as far away from him as he could without falling onto the floor. "You look uptight. What's bothering you? You can tell Brody Weston."

Kurt turned his head, "Please… don't sit so close to me. You hurt me the last time we saw each other."

Brody didn't give up, "Let me take you out to a party." Laying his arm on the back of Kurt's chair, Brody leaned closer and murmured, "You're so pretty… you don't deserve to feel this bad. Just a few drinks… some dancing—"

"Thank you, but I'm not much of a partier." Kurt managed a smile at Brody.

"You just don't want to party with me." Frowning, Brody got even closer and whispered. "We don't have to be alone unless you want to. Bring your little girl friends. I'll bring some of my friends. It doesn't have to be a date."

Looking at Brody, Kurt blinked, "No, thank you." He got up and walked away from Brody, not really sure where to go but wanting to be somewhere else. He saw the stairs leading backstage and hesitantly stepped up them, watching the dancers just a few feet away from him.

He continued backstage and hid himself behind the curtain, almost getting run over by a man hurrying past. "We need Brody on left stage," he was saying into a megaphone.

Kurt slipped past him and found a quiet spot on a pile of boxes in the corner. Grabbing his phone, Kurt dialed Blaine's number again. It wouldn't stop ringing, and then Blaine's voicemail clicked on. "Blaine…" Kurt whispered, unsure of what he wanted to tell Blaine but needing to say something, "I miss you… more than anything. Please call me. I love you." He shut his phone off again and zipped it into his purse.

He closed his eyes for about two seconds, then felt someone yank his arm. "I found him!" A man said, jerking Kurt to his feet. "We need you on stage in five minutes. It's the scene where you meet the servants. Be good, beautiful! We won't pay you to be terrible."

Kurt slid from the man's grip, "Can I get a glass of water first?"

The man glared at him, then rolled his eyes. "Be quick about it."

Turning around, Kurt pushed out of the backstage doors and found himself in a quiet hallway. He wandered around for a few minutes, feeling lost, peeking into the empty rooms. Slipping into a dark dressing room, Kurt sat down in front of a vanity and held onto his phone tightly. He stared at it, urging Blaine to call him. Tears started to fall down his cheeks when he didn't get any call or message.

He curled himself up in the little chair and closed his eyes, holding the phone to his chest. "I'm still here…" he squeaked, his voice soft and thick with tears. "Blaine, I'm still here."

* * *

Blaine stared at a wall, his breathing deep and his chest heavy as he tried to control himself. His shoulders shook and he lifted his wet hands to his damp face, his tears burning his deep wounds. Blood trickled down his wrists and streaked his thick arms, tiny pools of it leaking under his nails. Throwing his head back, Blaine moaned and dug his fingers into his palms again. There was a sharp ache beneath his scraped skin, distracting him from the pounding of his heart.

He felt sick and weak. He didn't know what day it was. It all passed so slowly… or maybe it was quickly. He remembered people walking in and out on him, rubbing his shoulders and asking him to get up, to eat a sandwich, to drink some water. The only reason he ever lifted his head was to care for his babies and birds, the only ones who needed him.

He'd never felt this way before… this terrible punch in his stomach. He couldn't heal, and he knew he never would. He could just go on and care for his little ones and his birds… the only ones who needed him.

Covering his face with his hand, Blaine smelled rusty blood. He looked at his ripped up palm. At least his scars weren't there anymore, each of them torn open and gushing blood. Blaine felt woozy, so he put his hand down.

He thought he heard a knock at his door, but he didn't bother looking. He didn't care. They'd go away eventually, knowing there was nothing they could do for him. The door pushed open and he heard Finn's voice, "Blaine… are you awake?"

Blaine didn't say a word.

"Whoa." Finn was obviously disturbed by something. "Your blankets are bloody. Do you want me to bring you new ones?"

Blaine heard him approaching his bed, and then his limp body was lifted. Finn dropped him on his back and stared at his glowering, blood smeared face. "Blaine… you look like a disaster." Shaking his head, Finn touched both of Blaine's cheeks, "You've lost a lot of weight. You have to eat something. I won't let you starve yourself."

His eyes darted to the plate Finn was carrying, a piece of warm pizza on it. Blaine's stomach growled against his will, and he reached for the plate. Once he set it down beside himself, Blaine growled, "Go away."

Much to his annoyance, Finn sat down on the side of the bed and took Blaine's hands in his. "What the fuck have you done to yourself?" He stared at Blaine's cut up palms. "Are you scratching your skin?"

Blaine ripped his hands out of his grip, hiding them behind his back. "It's none of your concern—"

"It is because I love you!" Finn pulled his arms and lifted Blaine's hands again. "Damn you, you asshole. You're in here destroying yourself. You can't stay locked in here anymore. I won't let you do this. Let me help you." When Blaine jerked away, Finn quickly hit him to keep him still. "Blaine, let me help you—!"

"I don't need your help!" Blaine almost shouted, and he could hear one of the babies start crying because of his raised voice. "Fuck you!" Throwing his legs off the bed, Blaine shoved past Finn and went up to the crib. He wiped his hands on his pants and reached in to soothe Archer, who was squirming and whimpering.

"Blaine, you're an absolute mess." Finn followed him and wrapped his arms around him. "Please… let me help you. I know you want Kurt—"

Blaine whipped around and slapped Finn across his face, "Shut up!"

Finn touched the red mark on his cheek, but he swiftly grabbed Blaine when he started to walk away. "Blaine, look at you. You haven't shaved or showered… you're angry… you haven't left this room once… It's not healthy."

"What's the point?" Blaine whispered, shaking his head. "I'm a piece of shit, anyway. You don't know how badly this hurts… I feel like I'm about to collapse. The clawing helps. It's a distraction. I don't want to think about him… in bed with that…" his jaw clenched and he rubbed a red spot onto his lips with his knuckles, almost breaking the skin.

Finn grabbed Blaine's hand and lowered it, "You still love him?"

Blaine stared at Finn for a long time, not saying a word, not blinking. He finally licked his lips and winced as he wet the raw spot, "He is…" he swallowed, "my greatest love. I just want… I want him back. No matter how many of those…" he paused again and bit the word out, "man-whores he's with… he's still mine. As far as I'm concerned, we're still engaged. I should have known… that he'd want to be with other men. I never deserved him… and i-if this is something I'll have to deal with… knowing he's with other men but is still staying with me… I'll deal with it. If that's how I can have him."

"Blaine… give yourself a little more respect." Finn sighed, wrapping his arms around Blaine. "I think you're pretty great." Grabbing Blaine's hand again, Finn whispered, "Let me take care of your hands."

Blaine closed his eyes when Finn's grip left him, and he stumbled over to his bed. Laying down flat, Blaine watched Pavarotti's head pop up from between two of the pillows. He cheeped at Blaine, and Blaine reached out to stroke him. "You still need me." He asked more than stated, and Pavarotti burrowed back between the pillows. Blaine heard Everett chirp, then the two birds quieted again.

Finn returned to the room and Blaine numbly let him wipe his hands with warm water, cleaning the blood away. He was so gentle with his hands, despite the fact that Blaine had hands that could crush his. He rubbed between his fingers and stroked circles on his palm, and for whatever reason Blaine didn't pull away. He liked feeling Finn's thin hand on his. His skin was a little more calloused than Kurt's, and his hands were bigger, so Blaine couldn't pretend that he was holding Kurt's hand, but Blaine liked being touched this way.

After a moment, Blaine felt the bed dip and a body brush up against his. His eyes opened and he stared at Finn as Finn wrapped himself around him, folding his leg over Blaine's waist. "What are you doing?" he grumbled, but he still didn't yank away. He didn't know why.

"Shh…" Finn put their faces very close together and he flicked his eyes over Blaine's hard expression, pausing on his lips. "Blaine… there's something I need to talk to you about. You know how you told me to find a guy who would make me happy?"

Blaine didn't say a word, his brows arching as Finn's hand found his back and he started rubbing up and down. Finn moved a little closer until Blaine could feel his hot breath on his mouth, "There's something I need to tell you."

Blaine stayed very still as Finn slid his hand lower and his fingertips touched the top of Blaine's ass. Closing his eyes, Finn poked his tongue out, but was denied anything when Blaine heard another baby coo and jerked upright. He swung his legs off the bed and went to get his babies, and when he soothed them he turned back around.

Finn was still tangled in his sheets, staring up at Blaine with a slight flush on his cheeks. There was an obvious bulge in his crotch that startled Blaine. Blaine shook his head, thinking that he imagined all of that because he wanted to. Because he missed being touched that way by Kurt. He muttered, "What did you want to say?"

Finn stayed quiet for a few minutes, then he rubbed his nape and whispered, "Nothing."

Blaine was about to tell him to get out, but he shut himself up. He didn't say a word as he went back to his bed and sat down. He felt Finn's hand immediately come to his back and start rubbing again. He realized that he really liked it.

Closing his eyes, Blaine fell back on the bed beside Finn.


	72. Nothing

Author's note: Soo... this chapter kind of fell apart for me. I didn't know what to do with it so this happened. Santana is back and she's going to be a bad influence on Blaine. My next chapter is when Blaine starts doing bad things. It should be divided up between a club, a bar, a car, a random guy's house, and Blaine's house. I think... I'm not sure yet. So... yeah... I still feel bad about doing this. The next chapter should be longer/have major stuff going on.

Spoilers for the next chapter: Kurt and Unique will go to a party. Kurt will be harassed by Brody. Brody will be drunk when he does it. Kurt will cry. Blaine will be drunk and meet a guy and go to his house. Blaine might cry.

deshaunwalker: Your review made me laugh so hard! I totally agree with you... but Finn is my happy little blob and I still like him. But that could change... quickly. Depending on what I do with him. Blaine will listen to Kurt eventually... but he's still being stubborn.

Tommseesit: You'll have to see about Finn and Blaine but thanks!

l.r: I can honestly say that Blaine and Finn will never be boyfriends, but I completely agree with you about Klaine being forever :) Thanks!

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I know, my sweet little Kurt! He didn't even do anything, poor baby :( I'm a terrible person lol. And Finn... I don't actually have anything to say about him because I'm still a little surprised I wrote that myself... even though I've had it planned for, like, months?

* * *

Kurt sleepily walked down the stairs, rubbing his eyes and yawning into his small fists. He heard his aunt in the kitchen, probably burning their breakfast, so he turned the corner and peeked in there. His fuzzy socks rubbed a slippery part of the wood floor and he slipped, shrieking as he fell onto his bottom. "Ouch!"

His aunt immediately turned around, eyeing him with concern. "Sweetie, are you okay?" She laughed when he shyly put his hand on his bottom, rubbing the soreness away. "You have to curl your toes to keep from falling. Watch." Coming out of the kitchen, his aunt slid across the hard floors and stopped by putting her hands on the wall and curling her toes.

Getting to his feet, Kurt rubbed his feet against the hard floor and slipped again, tumbling back onto his butt. "Oh! Ouch!" He pressed his hands to his red bottom, frowning at the floor. "I don't like this game."

His aunt reached down and helped him up, and Kurt waddled into the living room. He sat down on a pillow to soften the pressure on his butt. "For a ballerina you're very clumsy." Glancing back in the kitchen when one of the burners on the stove flamed, she groaned, "And I'm still not a good cook." She went back into the kitchen to turn the stove off, then frowned at the burnt eggs in the pan. "Okay… for breakfast we're either ordering takeout or…" she opened her pantry and examined the lack of food, "having marshmallows."

Kurt's stomach gurgled, so he rubbed it and said, "Marshmallows. I'm too hungry to wait for takeout."

She brought out the marshmallows and plopped beside of him, "Why'd you get the day off? You've been working constantly over the past month and a half."

"The photographer canceled for my next photo shoot… and I'm not in any of the scenes they're rehearsing today." Kurt pulled a marshmallow from the bag and popped it in his mouth, chewing the sugary stickiness. "Mm… marshmallows are so good."

She smiled and took one from the bag, then wrapped him in her arms, "Good, I get you all to myself today. Unless you want to Skype Blaine… Why haven't I heard about him much recently? You don't talk about him anymore."

Kurt shook his head, his lips curving with a sad smile, "I don't know what's wrong… he doesn't answer my calls anymore. I talked to my dad and he said Blaine's been sick… very sick. I want to be there caring for him. It sounds like Finn's been taking good care of him, though. My dad says they're together a lot."

"That's good." His aunt rubbed his arm and straightened his wrinkled sleeve. "Weren't they good friends before you came along?"

"Mm hm." Kurt bobbed his head, "They were best friends. They stopped speaking for a little while, but they're very close again. It's nice to see Blaine with his old friends. They're good for him, and he keeps them on their toes."

His aunt stroked his hair, humming in agreement, "Yeah…" Looking up when someone knocked on the door, she furrowed her brows and started to get up. "I'll be right back, sweetie." She walked out of the living room and Kurt heard the front door open, then the unmistakable sound of Unique's voice. "Kurt…" his aunt said after a moment, "the visitor's all yours."

Kurt stood up and poked his nose around the corner, his eyes finding Unique. "Unique," he said with a smile, "it's so good to see you."

Unique raised her brows at Kurt's fuzzy pajamas, "Hey, Kurt. Can I come in?"

"Mm hm." Kurt turned around and returned to the couch, sitting down and folding his legs underneath him.

Unique slowly made her way into the living room, glancing at everything from the hideous shade of paint on the walls to the soft carpets. "Um… look, I need to talk to you."

Kurt smiled to reassure her, but before Unique could continue his aunt muttered, "Well, good thing he loves to talk."

Unique glanced at his aunt, while Kurt grinned at her. Returning her attention to Kurt, Unique sat down and said, "I heard you got invited to a party by Brody Weston."

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he looked around for his aunt, but she was back in the kitchen, scrubbing the burnt egg off the pan. "Don't say his name so loud." He whispered, "My aunt doesn't want me around him."

Rolling her eyes, Unique muttered, "Kurt, you're nineteen. Grow up. You can't have everyone else fix your problems for you." She leaned closer and continued, "We should go to this party."

"We should?" Kurt nervously twisted his fingers, "Oh, but, Unique… Brody said there will be drinking and dancing… I don't think I'd like it—"

Unique made a sound of frustration, "Forget if you like it or not. All you have to do is have a few drinks and then you can enjoy yourself. You're too uptight. Fine… we can go for an hour… whatever. That'll give everyone a chance to see us together, time for me to flirt with some hot, older men… and you need to spend time with Brody Weston."

"Brody?" Kurt peeped, tugging at his pajamas, "Why? I thought you didn't like him."

Unique stared at him as if he was asking the most obvious questions, "I don't. I think he's an ass. But he could help you, Kurt. If you start hanging out with Brody, guys will think you're a slut… and all men like sluts. You have a bad image right now… everybody thinks you're a prude and they're losing interest in you. But Brody can fix that."

"But, Unique—" Kurt quieted when Unique reached in her purse for a catalogue.

"I'm buying you a new wardrobe." She set the catalogue in his hands, flipping open to the first page and pointing to a tiny, purple dress with slits all over it. "You'll wear that to the party. You can't be seen in anymore of these baby doll pastels. You're a model for Vogue… you need to dress like it. That means no more flowers… or ruffles… or bows."

"But I like the way I dress." Kurt squeaked, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

She put the catalogue away and sighed, "Kurt, Stanley is ready to fire you. I hate to say it… but he thinks that you're just too innocent. He's right, you dress like a little girl. I know what I'm doing with clothes, so if you're seen with me in public then people will think I'm about to make a fabulous new line for you… nothing with flowers, ruffles, or bows."

Kurt blinked at her, "You mean you're not going to this party with me because you like me? You're going because of your job?"

"I am going because of you." She assured him, "I'm giving you a good reputation. I care about you enough to help you keep your career… I won't let you throw it away because a guy back in Ohio liked it when you wore things with puffy sleeves or frills."

Kurt's cheeks turned bright red and his eyes filled with tears, "Unique, you're hurting my feelings."

Unique almost looked sympathetic for a moment, but she was too career forward to bother with real emotions. "I'll pick you up the day of the party at six. I'll bring your outfit."

"Unique, please…" Kurt tried, but Unique turned and walked away, leaving him alone. Scrunching himself up into a tiny ball, Kurt pulled at his pajamas and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

After Unique let herself out and shut the door, his aunt poked her nose out of the kitchen. "Sweetie, what's going on? What party was she talking about? You know I don't want you at any of those parties in the clubs. You're too good for that, Kurt."

Kurt frowned and hugged his knees tighter, "I feel like I'm not good enough." He whispered, burying his face in his thighs. He was so confused. Why did no one like him?

* * *

Blaine heard his bedroom door open and he groaned into his pillow, mumbling something that sounded like a threat for his visitor to get out. They didn't get out, and Blaine felt his bed move as someone sat on the end of it. They rubbed his leg, sliding their fingers up to his thigh and then back down. "He's been like this." Blaine heard Finn say, and then Finn laid his hand on Blaine's lower back. He stroked his fingers along his waist, making Blaine roll over onto his back to force him to stop. Finn lifted his hand, staring down at Blaine's murderous expression. Resting his palm on Blaine's stomach, Finn started rubbing his hard abs.

Blaine looked up at the person Finn was talking to, and he raised his brows at Santana. "What?" he snapped, flipping onto his side.

Santana scoffed at him, "The temper's always been there… it has nothing to do with Kurt cheating on him."

"I mean…" Finn gestured at Blaine, "this. He's not eating anything. He just lays there."

Blaine rolled his eyes at the way they were talking about him, as if he wasn't even in the room. But he didn't say anything. Finn lay down beside Blaine and grabbed his wrist, "Can you help? I think you can get through to him. You guys are close."

Santana stared at Blaine, then she snapped her fingers, "Get your ass out of bed, Blaine. You look pathetic."

Finn furrowed his brows, "That's not what I meant."

Rolling her eyes, Santana crossed her arms. "He's just going to have to suck it up." She reached down and grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him upright. "Okay… we're not doing this anymore. Get your shit together. Take a shower, shave, eat something. You look like you've dropped twenty pounds."

Blaine snarled at her, "Just get the fuck out. I don't want to see either of you."

Santana half dragged him to the end of the bed, "You think I'm shitting you? Finn called me and told me he thought you were going to kill yourself. You're one of my only friends… and you're taking care of my baby. I'm not going to lose you."

Grabbing onto the bed, Blaine growled, "Leave me alone!"

"Fuck you, Blaine!" She let him fall back onto the bed, and he scooted up to the pillows. "I get that it hurts! But you don't have to punish yourself." When Blaine's severe expression didn't soften, she sighed and crossed her arms, "Fine… I'll let you rot in here. You can claw your hands away and bleed to death. Is that what you want… because you're getting there."

"Santana, stop." Finn snapped and put his hand on Blaine's chest. "When I called you over here, I didn't want you to yell at him."

"We've tried everything else." She bitterly said, "Kurt was nice to him. He practically coddled him… and then I've yelled at him. But nothing gets through his hard head. He's still the same old Blaine… angry and hateful. We might as well try letting him get his way. He wants left alone."

"Santana, I'm worried about him!" Finn shouted, talking about him as if he wasn't there again. "He was getting better, and then I showed him that stupid magazine! Help me. Do something. Anything except yell at him."

Running her fingers through her hair, Santana made a frustrated sound and shrugged, "What do you want me to say, Finn? I had to get over it when Brittany cheated on me. I just drank a lot and it got rid of my problems. Sometimes it's best to just… pretend it didn't happen."

"You're telling him to become an alcoholic?" Finn sounded doubtful.

"It helps." She muttered, looking right at Blaine. "It doesn't have to hurt this badly. When Brittany fucked Karofsky… I never thought I'd be happy again. I'm still not happy… I don't think I ever will be… but drinking can take away the pain."

Blaine closed his eyes, "I don't want to feel pain. I'm tired of it, San."

"Let me drive you up to a bar." She lowered onto his bed and raised her brows at him, "You can get wasted and you won't feel the pain anymore."

Blaine slowly raised his head, his dark eyes flicking over Santana's face, "Okay." was the only thing he said, then he laid his head on the pillow. He was willing to try anything to take the pain away.


	73. If I Lose Myself

Author's note: So... I don't even know what to say except I'm really sorry :/ I didn't like writing this, and none of you are going to like reading it. I wrote most of this when I was half-asleep so it probably sounds bad, anyway. I don't know what I'm doing for my next chapter... probably a scene at Vogue and Blaine hanging out with Finn, or going to a bar. I haven't decided yet. So... I hope you guys keep reading :)

deshaunwalker: Aww I feel bad! Blaine will get the full story eventually, just not yet. I have to drag this angst out as long as possible now that I've gotten into it in the first place XD Oh, that's so sad! I don't listen to One Direction but that's still sad! Poor Harry :( Um... I don't mean to make Unique this way, she just kind of comes out this way. I think she's just so obsessed with her career that she's oblivious to real emotions. She still likes Kurt, they're just very different because Kurt is so emotional and she doesn't have emotions :P Um... yeah... Finn... I don't want to say anything about that -.-

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I want Klaine to get back together, too -.- This is honestly terrible... I dread writing every chapter. NEVER do this in your story, you'll regret it! But I'm too far into it now... so there's kind of no way around it without throwing the rest of my story off. Yaaaay... that was total sarcasm -.- Oh, I would go insane if I couldn't update for two weeks. This is everything for me... I don't like/do anything else... so this is kind of my life. Um... I'm not really good at ideas (I get most of mine from my Beta) but you could pull something really devastating that forces your characters to look at their relationship and think about how they want to go to the next level. I used WSS to get proposing to Kurt on Blaine's mind... the proposal scene in WSS kind of made him look at Kurt that way, and all of that bad drama with Rachel happened right before that. But, yeah, just an idea. Probably not a good one, I'm really bad at giving ideas XD But good luck! It'll come to you eventually!

khope89: I'm sorry! :( I don't like this, either :/ thanks for sticking this out!

* * *

Kurt followed Unique into the bouncing club, strobe lights streaking across his purple dress and painting it red, green, and blue. The music was so loud that Kurt covered his ears, his huge eyes darting around the confusion and chaos. It seemed to be a gay party, guys humping and making out with other guys, men dancing in the middle of the floor, not a woman in sight. Blushing at all of the sights of tongues licking tongues and hands grabbing asses around him, Kurt looked back at Unique and realized she wasn't there anymore.

Panicking, Kurt hurried past a couple groping right in front of him, and he found her again. He grabbed the back of her dress as she pushed up on her chest to spill more cleavage from the bodice, "Unique's going to get her flirt on tonight." She breathed heavily, watching the men around her.

Kurt wasn't sure if the comment was meant for him, but he replied anyway, "What about David?"

She glared over her shoulder at him, "Consider it an open relationship. Oh, look, there's Brody! He's smiling at you. Right on time. See you later, Kurt!" Hurrying off to the bar where a group of guys had settled and were scanning for their next victim, she ignored Kurt's plea for her to stay with him.

Left alone, Kurt wrapped his arms around himself and searched for a quiet place to hide until Unique was finished. He was about to walk over to an abandoned table that looked sticky with beer but was absolutely silent when someone tapped him on the shoulder. "You aren't ignoring Brody Weston, are you?"

Kurt looked over his shoulder at Brody, his wide eyes flicking from his smirking face to the beer in his hand. He wondered if he was drunk and wouldn't notice Kurt slipping away. "Hello, Brody."

"I knew you would come, you little tease." Brody slung an arm around Kurt's shoulders, giving him a good whiff of his breath when he got near. Kurt decided that he was either terribly drunk or had just eaten ten jalapeno peppers. "Let me buy you a drink. What are you having?"

Kurt unwillingly followed him over to the bar, where Brody threw himself down on a stool and patted his lap for Kurt to sit on him. Perching on the stool next to Brody's, Kurt said, "I'm not drinking, thank you."

Brody grinned at him and he cupped Kurt's chin, "How did I know you'd say that?" Pointing at the bartender, Brody gestured at Kurt, "Get him a virgin margarita… with a little cherry on top." He looked back at Kurt, still smiling from ear to ear, "You like the little cherries, don't you? Or are you more of a little umbrella kind of guy?"

"I like cherries." Kurt said, pulling from Brody's grip.

Brody sat back and raised his brows at Kurt, looking him up and down, "I've got to say… you are so hot. I just… I want you naked. But you've got your fiancé… he gets in the way of _everything!_ Tell me something… if you didn't have your—" Brody paused to hiccup, "—your fiancé… would you do me? Just tell me straight. Be really honest… because I like honesty. Honest guys are _hot._"

Kurt needed to go to the bathroom. Turning away from Brody, Kurt noticed the bartender approaching them and he took the virgin margarita. "Thank you." He said quietly, sipping the top of it just to be polite.

Brody frowned at him and pulled him back around to face him, "You didn't answer. What does that mean? Does that mean you want me… or not?"

Kurt managed a small smile at Brody, "Excuse me, Brody. I want to freshen up." Scooting off the stool, Kurt felt Brody's eyes on his back. He hurried away from Brody and searched for Unique, who he found in the middle of a swarm of guys, twirling her hair and giggling like she didn't have a boyfriend on another continent.

He walked up to her and ignored when one of the guys whistled at him, tugging her arm to get her attention. She looked up at him with glazed eyes, a straw in the corner of her mouth. The straw was plunged into a wine glass, a thick liquid swirling in it. "What, Kurt?" Gesturing to Kurt, she told her friends, "Guys, this is my friend, Kurt."

The guy who whistled grinded his hips at Kurt, "More like beautiful. What do you say you and me go get a drink?"

"No, thank you." was all Kurt said, then he turned back to Unique, his eyes wide and lips pursed. "Unique, I feel hot. It's so stuffy in here. I'm going to wait in the car."

"You don't just feel hot." Another guy snorted.

Unique threw her head back with a laugh, "Lighten up, Kurt. Here, have a drink. You'll feel so much better after you do. Where did Brody go?" Handing Kurt a dark drink with ice cubes floating at the top, Unique looked around for Brody. "Go hang out with him."

"But, Unique," Kurt squeaked, "I'm not comfortable. This dress is too tight and the men are staring at me!"

"That's a bad thing?" She raised her brows at him. He'd obviously ruined her dazed happiness because she whispered to him, "Kurt, don't you dare ruin this. You're acting like the biggest turn-off right now. Go find Brody. Just… make it another forty five minutes. That's all I need."

"Unique, please—" At her impatient expression, Kurt lowered his head like a scolded child and he stuck his bottom lip out. Turning around, Kurt quietly made his way through the dancing bodies and back over to Brody. He was still sitting there, and when Kurt approached his grin widened.

"You smell good." was the first thing out of his mouth. "Like cinnamon."

Kurt sat down on his stool and stared at Brody, wondering how he would make conversation with him for the next forty five minutes. Resting his chin on his fist, Kurt sipped on his drink and closed his eyes. Maybe he could take a nap… Brody was obviously too drunk to notice.

"You look depressed." Brody commented, leaning closer to Kurt. "Tell Brody Weston. He's a good listener."

Kurt opened his eyes and tugged his lips at Brody, "Thank you for asking, but I think I'd bore you if I told you."

"You don't bore Brody Weston." Brody assured him, getting so close to Kurt that Kurt could feel his hot breath on his neck and ear. "Tell me how you squeezed into this little dress. It's so tight!" Rubbing his fingers over Kurt's side, Brody touched one of the many slits. "You're tight, though. You're so tight."

Kurt turned away from Brody, closing his eyes again. Probably forty three minutes now. Just forty three minutes. Brody got close to Kurt again, "Am I boring you? You look bored."

Forty two minutes. Lifting his brows, Kurt said, "I'm not bored."

"Because we could dance." Brody said as if Kurt hadn't made a sound. "Or you could eat that little cherry. Or we could make out. Brody Weston's good at kissing."

"I think I'll eat the little cherry." Kurt plucked the little cherry from his drink and popped it in his mouth, chewing the gushy sweetness.

"Is it good?" Almost scooting onto Kurt's lap, Brody stared at his mouth. "Why won't you let me kiss you? You know that I want to. Just one little kiss."

"I'm engaged, Brody." Kurt held up his left hand to remind him. "I love my fiancé. Brody, you are a very attractive man and I'm sure you'll get lots of kisses. You don't need a kiss from me."

"Yes, I do." Brody grabbed Kurt's face again, "Because I've never seen a mouth like yours. So plump and red… I just want it so bad. Let me kiss you." Puckering his mouth, Brody ducked his head and Kurt jerked away from him. "What the fuck?" He looked devastated.

The bartender glanced up from wiping the counter and stared at Kurt as if to ask if everything was okay, so Kurt whispered to Brody, "Shush… you're making a scene."

"Just let me kiss you." Brody almost begged, wrapping his hand around the nape of Kurt's neck. "I want it so bad… Kurt, I want you."

"B-Brody…" Kurt tried tugging away, but Brody's grip tightened until Kurt almost couldn't breathe. "Brody, gentle. I can't breathe."

Brody's eyes filled with sudden tears, startling Kurt, "Brody Weston's never been rejected before. You know what you are… a bitchy prude. There… I said it. Everyone's thinking it. You're a bitchy prude."

"Brody, that's so mean!" Kurt gasped and hopped off his stool. "Why would you say that? You hurt my feelings!"

The bartender finally spoke up, "Is everything okay here?" He pointed at Brody, "Is he causing a problem?"

Pressing his hand to his mouth, Kurt turned around and scurried between the humping bodies. He was sure he was getting stares, but he didn't care. He just wanted away, no matter what Unique said. Tears blurred his vision and he stumbled as he stepped out of the building, his heel twisting. Gasping, Kurt reached down and pulled his shoes off, leaving them in the doorway.

He padded barefoot across the parking lot, searching for his car. Unzipping his dress as he went, Kurt let it drop to the ground, leaving him in a white slip that let him breathe. He heard footsteps behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight of Brody prowling after him. "Brody, stop! You're scaring me!"

Brody lunged at Kurt, picking him up off his feet. He pushed Kurt against the side of the building, pressing his body to Kurt's, "Just let me kiss you."

"No!" Kurt squealed and pushed his chest, "No, stop!"

Wrapping his hand around Kurt's thigh, Brody lifted his leg and hooked it around his waist. "You're so hot. Your fiancé doesn't have to know. I want you so bad."

Kurt burst into tears and he turned his head as Brody went in for a kiss, but the heavy weight was quickly taken off of him. Two guys much bigger than Brody yanked him off him, and one slapped the side of Brody's head. "Dude, what the fuck? That's sexual harassment. If he doesn't want it, then he doesn't want it."

Trembling, Kurt started to sway and felt one of the guys grab him. He shrieked and pulled away. "Whoa… it's okay." The guy assured him, holding up his hands to show that he wasn't a threat. "I just want to know if you're okay."

Kurt looked at Brody, who was a ragged mess, then down at his minimal covering. He squealed and darted away from them, running toward his car. "Kurt!" He heard another person yell, and a hand closed around his shoulder when he got to the car.

Kurt looked at Unique, who helped open his door for him. Struggling inside, Kurt closed the door and shut his eyes, trying to control his breathing. Unique got in on the other side and said nothing for what felt like a long time, turning up the heat and almost ignoring Kurt. "I'm sorry." She finally whispered.

Kurt put his hand on his rising and dropping stomach, tears falling onto his thin dress. Unique reached over and touched his arm, "I shouldn't have put you through that."

Jerking away from her, Kurt curled up against the window and pulled his phone from his pocket. He needed to hear his voice. Dialing Blaine's number, Kurt put the phone against his ear and heard it ring and ring and ring, then Blaine's voicemail came on.

He wiped his leaking eyes and threw his phone on the floor, wanting to step on it and break it. But he didn't… because he couldn't.

* * *

Santana pulled into the bar parking lot and handed Blaine a fake I.D. She slowly turned to Blaine, running her fingers through her hair. "Oh, don't look at me like that."

Blaine raised his brows, staring at the bar just outside of the car, "I don't want to be here."

Shutting off the car, Santana opened her door, "This is going better than I thought, Blaine. I thought I would have to tie you up and drag you here. Come on… it'll be good for you to be social. You of all people should be. I could count the number of friends you have on one hand."

"Whatever." Blaine pushed out of the car and stormed up to the doors, punching through them. He didn't look to see if Santana was on his heels, but walked up to the guy taking I.D.s and handed his to him.

The guy nonchalantly looked it over, then handed it back, "Have a good night."

Slipping past the guy, Blaine walked into the bar and glanced around at the people chatting. Some were gathered around the little TVs and watching football games, and some were at the bars. Digging his fingers into his palms, Blaine felt Santana move behind him and grab his hand. "Don't," she warned, and he released his palm. "Come on… let's start off slow."

She guided him up to the bar and sat him down on one of the stools, away from the majority of other men. She didn't think he'd do too well talking to others right now. Sitting beside him, she said to the bartender, "Can we get two beers?"

The bartender opened the fridge and pulled two beers out, handing them over. Blaine took his and swigged it like it was warm coffee, needing to feel the pain go away. Santana took hers a little more slowly, eyeing everything around her. "I've been here a couple times. It doesn't get too noisy. People stay to themselves. I think you'll do well here."

Blaine lowered his head and smelled his beer, wincing at the strong sourness of it. Turning away from it before he made himself sick, Blaine noticed a guy at one of the tables full of men watching a game staring at him. The guy smiled, tilting his head. Blaine quickly looked away. He thought Santana said people kept to themselves.

Santana lifted from her stool, "I have to go to the bathroom. Stay here."

Putting his chin on the table, Blaine watched her leave. Then he stared at the beer in front of him. What the fuck was he doing, leaving the babies in Finn's care while he was off getting wasted? But if this was the only way to get rid of the pain, then so be it.

He waited for a few minutes and Santana still hadn't returned, but he thought he heard someone come up from behind him. "Hey… are you not into football?"

Blaine wanted this guy to keep to himself. Sighing, Blaine lifted his head and glared at his intruder, the same guy who had smiled at him earlier. "I don't watch much football." He muttered.

The guy sat down next to him and held his hand out, "My name's Derek."

"Blaine."

Derek grinned at him again, "You look bored."

"Socializing isn't my thing." Blaine cut him off, wanting him to get the hint and walk away. But he stayed.

Derek gestured for the bartender to come over, "Two more beers." Turning back to Blaine, he smiled, "Finish your beer before it stops fizzing. That's when it's best."

"Whatever."

Realizing Blaine wasn't interested in a word he had to say, Derek turned the subject to Blaine, unaware that Blaine didn't like to talk about himself either, "What college do you go to? I'm at the community college a block away from here."

"I don't go to college." Blaine furrowed his brows, looking around for Santana.

Derek stared at Blaine, his pale lips pursing, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Blaine's head snapped up, his lips curled and his eyes narrowed, "Are you coming onto me?"

"I'm trying." Derek said honestly, laying his hand on Blaine's thigh. "I think you're pretty hot." Stroking his fingers up and down Blaine's thigh, Derek muttered, "If you're not into me—"

Blaine looked down at Derek's hand, then back up at his face. He was blond with blue eyes, a little narrower and duller than Kurt's, but still blue. Blowing out heavily, Blaine grabbed a chunk of his hair and tugged. He put his lips around the neck of his beer and drank heavily, trying to get as much Kurt as he could out of this guy.

The more he drank the fuzzier things got until Blaine stared directly at the guy. His hand was still rubbing Blaine's thigh, and he was talking about something Blaine didn't care about, but those blue eyes. They were nothing like Kurt's, not as beautiful or bright, but they were blue.

Derek's mouth crinkled as he realized Blaine was staring at him, "What, do you see something you like?"

Blaine shook his head, losing what he had of Kurt when the guy's voice came out. "Don't talk."

Derek grinned at him, his hand sliding up Blaine's thigh, "You want to do other things with our mouths?" Before Blaine had a chance to respond, Derek leaned in and pressed their lips. His mouth was warm and dry on Blaine's, gentle as he rubbed it back and forth.

Blaine pushed him back when he realized what was happening, "What are you doing?"

Ducking his head again, Derek kissed him, "Let me take you home tonight. It's been a while since I've slept with anyone."

"What?" Blaine said in between kisses, turning his head to force Derek to let him go. "I don't want to sleep with you."

Derek chuckled and grabbed Blaine's face, firmly rubbing their mouths, "You know how to wound a man's pride. Come on… it doesn't have to mean anything. We'll never talk again. That's why it's called a one-night-stand."

Blaine wondered why he wasn't being pleasured. He was so aware of everything, despite the beer, and he wanted to pull away. But he didn't. He didn't know why. Closing his eyes, Blaine shoved everything else aside and focused on himself. Of course he wanted to sleep with a man… he'd wanted it ever since Kurt left. He just always thought it'd be Kurt when he came home. But, even though Kurt had found pleasure with another man, Blaine had promised him loyalty, so he quickly jerked away from Derek. "I-I can't—"

Derek moved closer, his lips sucking on Blaine's jaw. "You want this," he whispered on his hard skin, licking Blaine's stubble. "Don't wound my pride anymore." Smiling on Blaine's skin, Derek said, "This isn't a relationship. We'd just sleep together. Nobody gets hurt."

Blaine looked directly at Derek, "Nobody?" he asked doubtfully.

"Nobody." Derek kissed his mouth again, and for the first time Blaine responded. It felt good to be touched by a man… like when Finn touched him. It wasn't pleasuring and Blaine wasn't attracted to him, but he liked feeling cared for.

Derek slid his tongue out and prodded his way into Blaine's mouth, and their tongues twisted together. "You're such a good kisser." Sliding off his stool, Derek tugged Blaine's arm. "Come on. I'll drive you to my place."

Blaine stared up at Derek, his entire body shaking. But Derek said nobody would get hurt, and Blaine wanted a man's touch again. He needed it… craved it. "Okay," he hesitantly whispered, following Derek to the door. He'd call Santana later and tell her he got the flu or something, anything except this.

Derek stopped in the middle of the parking lot and kissed Blaine again, his hands cupping Blaine's ass. "Do you usually top or bottom?"

"Top." Blaine told him.

Opening the passenger door to his car, Derek let Blaine in, then slid in on the driver's side. "You seem more like a bottom. Can you bottom for me? I prefer to top."

Blaine didn't say anything to that. Both of them were quiet for the entire drive, which took about ten minutes. When Derek pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex, he took Blaine's hand and helped him out. Wrapping his arm around Blaine's waist, Derek led him into the building.

They walked in silence, brushing shoulders but never glancing at each other. At least, Blaine didn't think Derek glanced at him. It took three flights of stairs to get them to Derek's room. Derek pushed him inside the dark room, and he started stripping his jacket. "Do you need anything?"

Blaine uncomfortably stood aside as Derek unbuttoned his collar, "No."

"I always do it with the lights off." Derek pulled his shirt down his arms and dropped it to the floor, then he looked at Blaine. "You can get undressed. Leave your clothes wherever." Unzipping his pants, Derek pushed those down then stepped out of his shoes.

Completely naked, Derek walked over to the bed and lay down. Avoiding looking at him, Blaine turned his back on him and slowly got undressed. Nobody would get hurt… and he needed a man's touch. Once he was naked, Blaine turned around and climbed onto the bed with him.

Derek smiled and rolled on top of Blaine, biting his left nipple. "You're pretty big. That's impressive." Cupping Blaine's limp cock, Derek started humping his body up and down.

Putting his hand behind his head, Blaine stared up at the ceiling and felt Derek licking between his nipples, his thumb stroking his tip. This was nothing like how it was with Kurt. Blaine sighed and closed his eyes, "What the fuck?" he whispered.

Derek kept humping, oblivious to the fact that Blaine wasn't going to orgasm.

* * *

Blaine walked into his bedroom around two in the morning, exhausted and sore. His ass hurt from constantly being pounded in and out of, and his lips were raw. He hadn't even had an orgasm. Sighing, Blaine went over to the crib and saw that it was empty, so he turned around and fell onto his bed.

He covered his face with his hands, unaware of two tiny birds noticing him. He heard a tiny cheep from beside him, so he opened his eyes and looked at Pavarotti and Everett. Both of them had pieces of the babies' teddy bear in their beaks, and they put him down by Blaine. Pavarotti chirped and wiggled.

Pulling the bear closer to himself, Blaine whispered, "Thank you." He lifted the bear and looked at its foot, "To Kurt. Love Mommy." He sighed and hugged the bear to his chest, lying flat on his bed.

There was a soft knock on his door, and Blaine turned his head to spy Finn in the doorway. His hair was ruffled and he looked tired. Two little bundles were curled up against his chest. "I have the babies."

Blaine stood up and went to Finn, peeking at the two blankets. Both of the babies were asleep, their heads squished to Finn's chest. He took Archer from him and laid him in his crib, and Finn laid Hunter beside him. Glancing up at Blaine, Finn muttered, "How did things go?" When Blaine didn't respond, Finn said, "Santana knows you slept with someone. She told me."

Blaine lifted his head and he stared at Finn, unsure of his emotions. Finn's face was absolutely unreadable. "Am I a bad person?" he asked the question that had been bothering him all night, his voice weak and broken. He wondered if it was because of guilt or lack of sleep.

"No," Finn shook his head. "I'd probably be a little more pissed if my brother hadn't cheated first—"

Blaine closed his eyes, "I don't want to talk about that. Look… it's over. Don't talk about it anymore. I'm trying to forget it happened."

Finn pursed his lips, not moving an inch away from Blaine. He suddenly lifted his hand and cupped Blaine's face, closing his eyes and leaning in. Pressing their lips, Finn rubbed their mouths and sighed against Blaine's face. "I'm sorry… I've wanted to do that for a while. It was better than what I thought it would be." Kissing the corner of Blaine's mouth, Finn whispered, "Goodnight, Blaine."

Turning away, Finn strode out of the room, rubbing his lips the entire way. Shocked, Blaine stared after him. "What the fuck?" he said again, quickly shutting his door so no one else could get in. He whipped around and fell onto his bed, gasping into the pillows.

He felt his phone buzz against his thigh and he swore and pulled it out, seeing that it was a call from Kurt. He stared at it, desperate to answer it. But he felt too horrific to talk to Kurt after what had happened, and he didn't want to hear about the guy on the magazine with him, so he let it go to voicemail. After it appeared, Blaine listened to the voicemail, "Blaine… I'm scared… I need you. Why won't you talk to me? I love you."

Blaine shut his phone off and he let his head hit the pillow, "I'm not good for you." He whispered, knowing that he'd been poisoned. There was nothing good left in him… he was all bad. A beast. Tears filled his eyes. He closed them and felt the warm saltiness roll down his cheeks. Did he even deserve to cry… since he'd done this to himself?


	74. Thinking of You

Author's note: So... big time skip. If it isn't obvious, Kurt's been away from home for five months now. Hopefully it flows well. Short scene for Kurt. This is mainly a Blaine chapter :) For those of you wondering, yes I do love Blaine. Very much. He's one of my favorite characters that I've ever written... but I say that about all of my characters. And I love Klaine. So... yeah. Don't give up on me. This isn't the Finn-Blaine story... or Kurt As A Single story. I promise. Just get through this rough patch with me. A lot more of Blaine's thoughts on what he's doing are revealed in this chapter, and it's not that pretty :/ I don't have any exact spoilers for any upcoming chapters... right now I'm kind of winging it. But Quinn will be coming back soon and she'll make Blaine's situation much worse, and a new character is coming for Kurt :) You will like him... He will make Kurt happy. Also, at this point, I'm pretty much done with Brody. He's done his damage and it's put distance between him and Kurt... so yeah. But he will be getting slapped soon. Like... really hard. Annyway... I finally got a picture of Hunter and Archer's teddy bear up on my profile! As I've said, Keegan is a real bear and he belongs to my Beta and that is his real name so... yay Keegan! He's so cute :D

TimF: A lot more of what Blaine is doing and why is explained in this chapter. Thanks for sticking this out... I promise it'll get better :)

deshaunwalker: Pleeeeeease don't leave my story! I know it's sad right now but I'll make it better :) I really like getting your reviews! :D Yeah, I'm done with Brody... I don't know if you read what's up there ^ but his next big scene will be him getting slapped. And that's about it. I'm sorry about Flaine! That's a really terrible name... Klaine is cuter. But I just wanted it to happen for some reason... I'm sorry! As I said up there ^ this isn't the Finn-Blaine story so... I'm pretty much done with them now.

lovingthis: Aww I just adore you and your review! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much that means to me :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I LOVE writing Blaine's plot! That sounds arrogant... but whatever :P he has my most animated plotline but somehow he's also my most emotionless character... don't know how that worked out XD Aww Kurt just needs a hug. I like his aunt because she gives him lots of hugs :) pleeeeease keep writing! There's nothing better to do than it. Just do your homework in class or something, it's what I do and now I have more time to do this :D

* * *

Kurt tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder, reaching in his car for his dance bag. Draping it over his shoulder, Kurt smiled when he heard a click. "Hey, honey." His dad's gruff voice came through the phone, soothing Kurt. "What are you up to today? I just got off the phone with your aunt. She was scraping burnt toast. How has that woman not burned her house down yet?"

Giggling, Kurt turned and walked to the Rogue Theatre, pushing through the doors. "Dad, it's so good to hear your voice. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to call all week. I've been at rehearsals so much… my feet are so sore. I need a pedicure!"

"Don't tell Carole that. She's jealous of your feet." His dad chuckled, "When is your opening night? Is there any way you could record it and let me see?"

"I'd love if you saw!" Ignoring the stares of a few guys he passed by, Kurt walked down the hallway to his dressing room. "We only have a month of rehearsals left. We'll be performing all through December."

There was a sudden sadness to his dad's voice, and he sighed heavily, "You've been gone for five months. I've missed you like crazy, kid. Have you been taking care of yourself? Do you still like it there?"

Kurt closed himself inside his dressing room and slipped out of his shoes, then grabbed his ballet flats and wiggled his toes into them. "Yes… I love it here. I just… miss being home. I miss everything about Ohio. How is the family? How are the babies?"

Burt's reply was hesitant, "We're getting along. Carole got a promotion so she's working longer hours… I'm still working on cars. Finn is going part-time to that acting school. The babies are growing just fine… I think Hunter just started teething. His cheeks are about as big as oranges and he's crying a lot, but he'll be fine."

Blinking, Kurt whispered, "And Blaine? I haven't heard from him in months, Dad. What is wrong? Why won't he talk to me?" Getting suddenly anxious, Kurt asked, "Can I talk to him now? Oh, Dad, please give Blaine the phone. I need to hear his voice."

"Uh…" Burt was hesitant again, "sweetie, Blaine went out. The good thing is that he's finally getting a social life. If you want me to tell him you called—"

"That's okay." Kurt swallowed his disappointment, his heart throbbing. "I'm sure he'll call me back when he wants to talk to me. It's very good that he's spending time with others." Managing a weak smile, Kurt said, "I should go. I love you, Dad."

"Love you, too, honey." Burt clicked the call off, and Kurt lowered his phone.

He stuck it in his purse and stood from his chair, unzipping his dress. He let it fall to the floor and grabbed a loose leotard with a frill skirt. Tugging it on, Kurt opened his dressing room door and poked his nose out. He wandered into the hallway and found a stage door, pushing through it. He immediately ran into Brody, who was walking out the door. Flushing, Kurt pulled away and wrapped his arms around himself. "Oh… Brody. I-I'm sorry."

Brody looked down at Kurt as he tried slip past, and he frowned and lowered his brows, "You're just going to walk by me?"

Kurt quickly looked over his shoulder, surprised that Brody was saying anything to him. "Brody—"

Shaking his head, Brody said, "What, am I making you uncomfortable? My bad. You're the one making things uncomfortable by not speaking to me. It's been, like, four months. I was drunk. Can't you get over it already?"

Kurt took a step away from him, "Please don't raise your voice at me."

Brody narrowed his eyes, "I'm tired of this, Kurt. You won't look at me anymore. You definitely don't say anything to me outside of rehearsals. I know you've never been drunk because you're so uptight, but do you get that a man does crazy things when he's drunk? I don't even remember anything."

"Brody, you frightened me." Kurt squeaked, backing away from him until he ran into a wall. "You held me to a wall and tried to grope me. I was scared!"

"And what do you want me to do?" Holding up his hands, Brody lifted his brows. "Apologize? Okay… I'm sorry. I'm not going to rape you." His expression suddenly changed and he looked very aggressive, his brows lowered and his mouth firm, "And you want to know why? The more I get to know you, the less attractive you get. You're so… needy. You're not adventurous. It's like you're terrified of men. I don't find that hot."

Brody walked past Kurt, shaking his head when Kurt stumbled away from him and wrapped his arms around himself. "See… it's that kind of thing that turns a guy off. Let me know if you ever change your…" Pausing, Brody shook his head again, "everything about yourself." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued by, leaving Kurt shaking and near tears.

He took a step back and bumped into some boxes, so he plopped onto them. Pulling his knees to his chest, Kurt watched some of the stage crew walk by, but not a single one of them noticed him. Tears swelled in his eyes. Hesitantly taking his phone from his purse, Kurt dialed Blaine's number. Maybe this time. The phone rang and rang and rang, but nobody answered. "I'm still here…" he squeaked, hiccupping mid-sentence. "You promised you would be… but you're n-not." Tears flowed from his eyes, "You're not here, Blaine… you're not here…"

* * *

Blaine closed his eyes as he felt the man on top of him shudder, his stiff cock plunging deeper into Blaine. "F-Fuck," the man's hands trembled and he squeezed Blaine's arms. He came inside of Blaine, the condom bloating as his come filled the bottom of it.

Turning his head to the side, Blaine covered his face with his arm, "Get out of me."

The man lifted his head, his glazed eyes narrowing at Blaine. "Don't you want to come?"

Blaine shoved on his chest, ripping him out and throwing him to the side. "I said get out!" Swinging his legs off the bed, Blaine stumbled a little and knelt by the pile of his clothes. He felt nauseous… he couldn't remember if he had breakfast that morning, or dinner at the bar. It was all starting to blur together in a circle of sex, sex, sex. Blaine was tired of spinning… he was getting dizzy.

"Did you not like it?" the guy questioned, putting his hand on Blaine's back. "You don't want to go for round two?"

"No…" Blaine pulled his pants on and buttoned them, "I want to leave."

"Okay," the man lay back on the bed, pulling off his condom and tying it. "Thanks, anyway, Blake."

Blaine's head jerked up and he glared at the man, "My name's Blaine." was the only thing he said, and he stood and slammed through the bedroom doors. Blaine let himself out of the apartment room and took the stairs down to the lobby, where he got a few stares. He probably looked ragged and shitty, but he didn't give a damn.

Walking outside, Blaine found his car and stepped into it, putting it in drive. He sped out of the parking lot and onto the main road, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel so he couldn't dig them into his palms. His jaw clenched as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his lips swollen and raw, his eyes black, his cheekbones sticking out from all of the weight he'd dropped. Disgusting piece of shit.

He turned the mirror so he couldn't see himself and focused on the road, anything but himself. He couldn't take it anymore… all of the horrible things he'd done. He was a beast, no better than Karofsky himself. Tears blurred his vision so Blaine was glad when he pulled onto his road and up his driveway.

Stepping out of his car, Blaine hurried up to his front door and pushed through it. He checked the living room and saw no one in it but his babies, both of them scooting across the floor, mumbling to each other. Archer looked up at the sound of the door closing and he grinned, plopping onto his butt and holding his arms up for Blaine. "Ba-ba…" he cooed, his dimples popping.

Blaine rushed into the living room and knelt by his babies, gathering them in his arms. He kissed both of their cheeks, needing to feel their soft bodies, to hear their sweet babbling. "My little babies…" he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want them to end up like him… abused and destroyed. He never wanted that. "Shh… I'm here."

He rested Hunter against his shoulder, and Hunter put his sore mouth on his sweatshirt, slobbering on him. Holding Archer in his free arm, Blaine started to turn away and head for the stairs when he heard someone walk out of the kitchen. He turned around and spotted Finn, who looked exhausted. "You were with someone again… weren't you?"

Blaine's jaw tightened, "Don't make me talk about this, Finn."

Finn's hard expression didn't change, and he kept on Blaine's heels as he walked up the stairs. "You're just in it for the sex now. It's not even about the beer anymore. You go to these bars for sex."

When Blaine turned into his room and carefully laid the babies in their crib, shaking their teddy bear for them before Archer grabbed it and hugged it to himself, Finn followed him and pushed him up against a wall. "You fucking asshole… you remember what you told me? That I wouldn't be happy if I slept around? You're fucking sleeping around. You can't spend one day without jumping onto some guy's cock—"

At the harsh wording, Blaine growled and grabbed Finn's collar, almost lifting him off his feet. "If you think I'm happy, then you're—"

"What other reason would you do those guys for?" Finn shoved Blaine off and took a step back, rubbing his neck. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Blaine?"

"I'm not looking for happiness!" Blaine shouted, his entire face turning red. "I haven't had an orgasm in months! I don't _want _any of those men! I don't want the beer… it doesn't help."

Finn took a step closer to Blaine, "Doesn't help what? Blaine… what the fuck are you talking about?"

Slipping away from the wall, Blaine pushed past Finn and stormed across the hall, pausing in the middle of the bathroom. He stared at his covered mirror, wondering what he'd look like if he tore the sheet draped over it away. Would he be as terrible as he thought he was? Or would he look like a decent man? He thought he was decent… for a long time he thought he'd changed… but maybe he didn't. Maybe he was still a beast.

Finn stopped in the doorway of his bedroom and swallowed thickly, "Blaine… don't avoid me. I'm tired of getting silence out of you." Crossing his arms, Finn walked up to Blaine, who stiffened and jerked away. "Shh… you don't have to panic every time someone reaches for you." Touching Blaine's curly hair, Finn smoothed it and leaned down to press his forehead to Blaine's. "You haven't looked at me since I kissed you. But I still care about you, Blaine. I want you to get better… to not…" Finn searched for the right word, "be this way."

Blaine swallowed and looked everywhere but at Finn, feeling himself break. He didn't want to be vulnerable, so he turned his head. "Stop touching me."

Finn breathed on Blaine's cheek, his arm coming around Blaine and resting on his lower back. He rubbed the top of Blaine's ass with his fingertips. Blaine could feel himself cracking, but this time he was powerless to push Finn away. "Finn—"

Lowering his mouth to Blaine's, Finn gently twisted their lips and rubbed until Blaine's mouth opened. He slid his tongue against Blaine's teeth, his tongue poking Blaine's. Blaine shuddered and bit down on Finn's bottom lip too hard. Finn jerked away with a gasp. "Blaine… I'm sorry—"

"Just leave me alone," Blaine begged, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I can't." Finn shook his head. "Blaine, you're a mess. Come here… it's okay to lean on other people." Wrapping his arms around Blaine, Finn tugged him close and tried to rub his stiffness away.

"This is what I want…" Blaine said despite his will to keep his mouth shut. He would have done anything for Finn if he would just keep holding him. "Finn… I miss Kurt. I m-miss him so much… and this is the only way I can have him—"

Finn looked down at Blaine, gently rubbing his back, "By feeling cared for? Touched by another man?" When Blaine didn't respond, his eyes huge and his mouth open, Finn pulled him closer, "Blaine… it's okay." Tugging Blaine's arm, Finn said, "Come lay down with me."

Blaine numbly followed Finn back into his bedroom, and Finn reached for the bottom of Blaine's sweatshirt. Letting him pull it off, Blaine looked at the bed and back at Finn, suddenly ready to panic. "Finn—"

Finn cut him off by unzipping his pants, then pushing them down his thighs. Blaine wasn't wearing boxers so he was left naked, and he hadn't felt this exposed in a long time. Staring at Blaine, Finn swallowed and pulled off his own shirt, then dropped his pants to the floor. He kicked off his boxers and climbed onto the bed, and Blaine hesitantly scooted onto the edge of it.

Finn rolled on top of Blaine and kissed his mouth, "Does this feel good to you?" He whispered against Blaine's lips. He wrapped his hand around Blaine's cock and stroked his tip, but he frowned when he felt that Blaine wasn't even hard. "You can pretend I'm Kurt. Will that help you get hard?"

Blaine stared up at Finn, his face emotionless. "You're not Kurt," was the only thing he said, his voice weak.

Finn seemed to be fighting with that, but he decided to let it go and he leaned down to lick Blaine's neck. Blaine closed his eyes and tried so hard to pretend that it was Kurt on top of him, his pretty blue eyes gazing excitedly at him, his cheeks pink and rosy with little dimples pushing up on them, his lips plump and red and damp from passionate kisses. He could almost feel his soft, dark blond hair running through his fingers, his gentle kisses peppering his cheeks, hear his beautiful laugh… but Kurt had left him for someone better… someone more deserving—not that _anyone_ deserved Kurt. Someone less bad.

Someone more beautiful. Less beastly. Blaine started to cry again. What he'd done had become who he was, and he was a monster. Not meant for a beauty.

* * *

Pushing his pants to the floor, Blaine stripped of his shirt and poked his toes into the steaming bath water. He felt so dirty… he wanted to be clean. Stepping into the tub, Blaine sank onto his ass and kept his chin above the water, everything else submerged. He stared at his body, shimmering under the watery surface. But he knew he didn't actually shimmer. He was too ugly, too scarred.

Running his hands up his thighs, Blaine felt the bumps from where Karofsky had stabbed him with a piece of glass. He lifted his shaking hands and closed his eyes, resting his head against the damp wall. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he could taste the saltiness on his lips. "I'm sorry…" he whispered to no one in particular, "I'm so sorry… I wanted to change… I wanted to be what you needed. But he was too strong… he d-did this to me…"

He shuddered and wiped his weepy eyes, falling deeper into the water. He felt it at his nose and kept going, sinking until he was entirely under. He couldn't tell what was his tears and what was the water, but he thought that he cried more than what he had filled the tub with. He'd gotten rid of Karofsky… thrown him into prison… but he was still inside of Blaine. He still controlled Blaine… had a hard hold on him. And Blaine hated it.

He hated himself. He could feel himself blacking out, but he stayed under. Maybe someone would pull him out… but maybe it was better if no one did. He was tired of hurting people. He was tired of being Karofsky… a monster… a beast.

From his bedroom, Blaine heard a little cry from one of the babies. It pulled him from the water, and he jerked out of the tub. Yanking on a pair of boxers, Blaine almost ran across the hall and looked in his bedroom. Archer was fussing for him, helplessly waving his arms. Rushing to the crib, Blaine lifted the baby to his chest and patted his back. "Shh… I'm right here. I've got you." Kissing Archer's pudgy cheek, Blaine reached in for Hunter, who was playing with Pavarotti and Everett as they scampered around the crib. He held his two babies so close to him, feeling better with them.

"Ba-ba…" Archer waved his tiny fists at Blaine, patting his face. "Ba-ba."

Another tear rolled down his cheek, and he kissed Archer's dimpled palm, "I'm sorry I thought about leaving you." He whispered against Archer's arm. "It's just so hard… when the person you love doesn't love you back. I want you to know how much I love you… that I will do anything to protect you… both of you. I won't ever let anything like what happened to me happen to you."

Archer gurgled and patted Blaine's face, "Ba-ba…" Smiling with his dimples, Archer snuggled into Blaine's chest, and Hunter happily curled up against Archer.

Stroking Archer's black curls and Hunter's dark brown locks, Blaine whispered, "You make me so happy…"

Archer giggled and kicked his feet, pleased with the compliment, "Ba-ba." Struggling to lift his head, he put his lips against Blaine's jaw and kissed him.

Blaine was never going to let go.


	75. My Dark Side

Author's note: I'm really, really, really sorry, you guys! I hate doing this to you, but I guess I'm just a mean writer. Okay... um... this chapter fell apart for me, anyway. I don't like it... it didn't write the right way. Lots of it is pretty jerky, like Kurt's fantasy and then Quinn just popping up out of nowhere. Sorry if it doesn't flow well. But... yeah... I hope you guys stay with me! I'm planning on doing about thirty chapters of this entire year, and then Kurt will be coming home. I should have this story done by late June or early July, and then I'll post the sequel soon after that. So, pleeeease don't leave me! I'll make it better :)

deshaunwalker: They did talk in this one, but it was more of Kurt's imagination :P so yaaay for talking Klaine lol. But I'm sorry! I do feel really bad :(

NicJ: Lots of people have been asking that, but I wanted to go down this route instead... I'm regretting it now. Um... I think the main reason why Blaine immediately assumed that was because he has such a low self-esteem and he just figures that Kurt wanted better than him. Besides, I think Blaine likes punishing himself (as you can tell from my recent chapters.)

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Yay for new chapters! Except I hate my more recent new chapters :( I'm tired of writing Kurt and Blaine, not Klaine... it's so sad. They just need to be happy with each other! But good luck with your new chapter and the direction you're going! And yay for Betas :) I love my Beta so much... she just does wonderful things for this story.

Guest: I know, this is really hard for me to write... I'm trying to make it as unlike Glee as possible. Blaine on Glee seemed totally guiltless about what he was doing, so I hope my Blaine doesn't come across that way. And thanks! That's a really big compliment that I'm your second favorite... and this is the longest story I've ever written. I had one that was about 1,300 pages but I think this one is around 1,600 or something now? It's a lot but I'm about finished with it now. I'm glad you like Kurt now :) Some people were worried about him being too feminine but I guess I just like him that way... he's cute to me :) And I promise that it's safe to stay with my story! I know I'm being mean right now, but I absolutely adore Klaine so I will make things better. I actually stopped watching Glee, too, because I thought the plot was so sad. I promise that my Klaine will never be fuck buddies, I hated when Ryan did that on the show. Thanks for reading my story!

* * *

Kurt put his hands on his hips and squeezed, trying to force his body to mold with the corset hugging his stomach and back. Reaching for his panties, Kurt put his feet into them and pulled them up, then worked on a pair of white tights, rolling them up his feet and snapping them into place at his waist. He wriggled into his slip next, then reached for the puffy gown laying on his vanity. It was a ballroom gown, the same one he held up to his body months ago, the first of his costumes he'd ever seen. He lifted it above his head and let it slide down his body, his hands popping from the short sleeves. The white lace was tight on his stomach and chest, but at his hips exploded into a mass of frilly layers. Taking his mask from where it was hanging on his mirror, Kurt carefully pulled it on over his hair.

He stared at himself in the mirror, half of his face covered by a black and white mask. His curves were exaggerated by the shapely dress, and his legs looked much longer and fuller with his stiletto, diamond heels. He pulled his locket necklace from his bodice and let it hang in the middle of his chest. His charm bracelet glittered on his wrist, the _B_ and_ K_ dangling on top. His many rings from Blaine decorated his ring finger, his engagement ring the largest and most sparkly of all of them. He thought he looked very good, just a little tired.

Hearing someone knock on his door, Kurt looked up after touching his eyelashes to make sure his mascara hadn't clumped. "Come in." He whispered softly, and the door opened. One of the guys on the stage crew looked in, obviously flushing at the sight of Kurt.

"Five minutes until the curtains are pulled." was all he said, and Kurt quietly thanked him. After he left, Kurt turned back to the mirror and touched his engagement ring.

"Blaine…" he sighed, sitting down at his vanity. He pulled his phone from his purse and dialed Blaine's number, but as usual no one answered. He left a voicemail, anyway, even though he wasn't quite sure Blaine was even getting his many voicemails. "Hi… I just wanted you to know that it's opening night… I'm about to go on stage. You're my good luck charm. I love you so much, Blaine." Pausing as he got teary eyed, Kurt quickly wiped his eyes before he smeared his white eye shadow or his mascara. "Blaine… it's been six months since I've heard your voice. I want to know if you still love me." Kissing the phone, Kurt whispered, "I'm sending you a thousand kisses."

He turned his phone off and clicked out of the room, his fragile heels tapping the hard floor. He got a few winks from guys he passed, but Kurt wasn't as bothered by it anymore. Opening the stage door, Kurt walked in and saw the stage crew running around everywhere. Props were being pushed here and there, and everything was chaos. Kurt felt so left out.

Somebody grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the middle of the room, right behind the curtain and in front of a swarm of dancers. Brody was behind all of them, still in his princely form, not yet a horrible beast. The curtains slowly moved apart, revealing what looked like thousands and thousands of people. It was a bigger audience than anything Kurt had ever been in front of. They briefly applauded, keeping their cool and their dignity as they leaned back in their seats, watching the performance with feigned disinterest.

Feeling the spotlight swing onto him, Kurt heard the music cue and he lifted onto his toes, tiptoeing around the stage, faking confusion as the people behind him started dancing to a slow beat. The women and a few men twirled their skirts as they were whisked into the air by gentlemen attending the ball for their amusements in the women or the drinking.

Brody suddenly came up behind Kurt and tapped his shoulder, and Kurt whirled around, gasping in very fake surprise. Taking his hand and his skirt in his hands, Brody twirled Kurt under his arms, every movement very graceful and slow. Brody lifted Kurt above his head, and Kurt held his arms out and pointed his toes at the ceiling, hearing the audience gasp in amazement.

Closing his eyes, Kurt twisted his body so his leg was on Brody's shoulder, and then he lifted it again so he was tilted more at an angle, his butt and legs higher than the rest of his body. He could hear the dancers around him shuffling to the side, and then a witch's cackle. There was a burst of smoke from somewhere nearby, and Brody convulsed and threw his head back. Kurt heard a crack and then a monstrous roar from the soundtrack playing from behind the curtains, and he opened his eyes.

He was startled to see that everyone was gone, the dancers around him nowhere to be seen on stage. Kurt couldn't remember this being part of the scene. Lifting his head, Kurt looked out at the silent audience, and he squeaked when he didn't see a single person, the entire theatre emptied out.

"Kurt," he heard from underneath him, and Kurt jumped at the familiar voice. He hadn't heard it in so long, the deep rustiness and cool tone of it so alluring to him. Kurt looked down and stared at the man who wasn't Brody, the face harder, the hair darker and curlier. There was a sneer on Blaine's face, his eyes too dark, his jaw too tight.

"Blaine!" Kurt gasped, reaching for Blaine. He wrapped his legs around Blaine and laid his head on top of Blaine's, Blaine's face buried in his stomach. "Blaine, I've missed you so much!"

Blaine swooped Kurt to the floor, and he collapsed on top of him. Staring up at Blaine, Kurt helplessly pressed their mouths and tasted Blaine. Blaine didn't react to the kiss, his face just as stern, "Kurt." was the only thing he said again, and he pushed himself up on his knees. Standing, Blaine walked away from him.

Kurt quickly scrambled to his feet, running after Blaine, "Wait, Blaine! Don't leave me again! Please!" Jumping at Blaine, Kurt felt their bodies touch for a moment, and then he collapsed to the floor. The noise and people quickly rushed back at him, the dancers trying not to trip on him as they gazed between him and Brody, wondering what went wrong.

Barely lifting his head from the floor, Kurt looked at a stunned Brody, who had his arms open but no Kurt in them. Kurt touched his sore knees, which were what he landed on when he hit the floor, and he winced at the throbbing pain in them.

"Kurt," Kurt heard his voice again, and Kurt whipped around to face Blaine, who was by the curtains. He looked worried, his lips curled and his brows furrowed. "Be careful."

"No…" Kurt begged as Blaine walked away, collapsing on the floor again. He suddenly didn't care about finishing the scene or dancing on Broadway… he knew exactly what he wanted. Shakily getting to his feet, Kurt gathered his skirt in his hands and looked back at Brody, who was staring at him as if he was insane. He looked away and ran off the stage, not caring if he never performed on Broadway again or modeled for another fashion magazine. He had to be with him… he was the one he loved more than anything.

* * *

Blaine staggered into his house, feeling the sweat trickle down his cheeks and neck. He felt sick, but he had nothing to vomit. So he just gagged. Falling onto the couch in the living room, Blaine rubbed his eyes and tried to put pressure on his stomach to keep it from churning. Curling up in a ball, Blaine stared at the little bundles on the floor, Archer lying on his stomach while Hunter tested his muscles out, trying to balance on his hands and knees. He pointed his bottom at the ceiling, grunting with the hard work it took, then he toppled over. Archer giggled at him, patting his fingertips together.

Closing his eyes, Blaine heard the sink spitting out water in the bathroom, then the door opened. "Blaine, are you sick?" Finn said, slowly walking up to Blaine. He put a hand on his forehead and muttered, "Damn, you're burning up. Do you want some water?"

Suddenly feeling very sick to his stomach, Blaine jerked off the couch and almost sprinted up the stairs. He could feel his face turning green by the time he dropped in front of the toilet and vomited violently into it. He choked when he finished, gasping for air. He smelled like shit, and the vomit smelled worse. Gagging, Blaine wiped his mouth and saw white saliva on his hand, reminding him of the very thing he was trying to forget. "Fuck—" he convulsed and wiped his hand on his pants, thinking of how disgusting he was being but not caring. He was gross, anyway.

He heard Finn walking up behind him, so he hissed and jerked away, cornering himself against the bathtub. "Stay the fuck away from me."

"Blaine, calm down." Finn reached down for him, but stopped when Blaine slugged him in the stomach. He grunted and grabbed himself, "Stop! Blaine, what the fuck is the matter with you? Let me help you!"

"If you get any closer to me—" Blaine snarled, but was cut off when Finn turned away and reached for the drape over the mirror.

"Enough of this, Blaine." He yanked the drape away, and Blaine panicked and tore it from him. "Blaine, I said enough! You're not getting any better by doing this! Just look at yourself! You're a disaster!"

"I can't look at myself!" Blaine screamed, whipping around and smashing his fists into the mirror. The glass shattered and cut Blaine's hands, littering the sink and counter. He stared at the tiny pieces still stuck to the frame, little images of himself gazing back at him. He turned around and pressed himself to the wall, sliding back onto the floor. Grabbing the nearest piece of glass, Blaine stabbed it into his palm and watched blood trickle onto the surface.

"Fuck, Blaine!" Finn shouted and quickly snatched the bloody piece of glass from Blaine. "Are you insane?"

Blaine collapsed to the floor, feeling the glass slice into his cheek. Helplessly crying and curling up on himself, Blaine begged, "Just hit me… do something. Hurt me, Finn. Do anything to distract me."

"Blaine…" Finn knelt by Blaine's weak body, his shoulders shuddering and his teeth gnawing his lip raw, "don't ask me to hurt you. What's wrong?" He pulled Blaine from the floor and rested him against his chest. When Blaine didn't respond, Finn stroked his damp hair off his face and whispered, "What did he do to you? What the fuck did he do?"

Blaine knew who he was talking about, but he didn't answer. He wasn't even sure what Karofsky had really done to him… none of it made sense. "Why didn't he leave me alone?" he whispered, and he wasn't sure if he was asking himself or Finn. "Why am I disgusting? Why am I horrible?"

"You're not horrible or disgusting." Finn promised him, "You're disgusting because you smell like shit right now… but, Blaine, you can get better. You don't have to be this way."

Blaine ripped away from Finn, "I never had a choice, Finn." Looking down at his scarred palms, Blaine growled, "He knew what he would turn me into." He suddenly heard the doorbell ring from downstairs, and he jerked upright.

Finn stared at Blaine as if he was absolutely crazy, "You didn't invite your little fuck buddies over, did you? I swear, if you did—"

Blaine pulled away from him, striding downstairs as quickly as he could go with an aching stomach. He wasn't that concerned about getting the door, but he didn't want to be around Finn anymore. He could hear Finn on his heels, but he kept walking and approached the door. Throwing it open, Blaine frowned at the sight of Quinn on the other side, a girl he hadn't spoken to in months.

Her brows arched as she looked at Blaine, then she frowned, "Blaine?"

"What do you want?" Blaine bit out, prepared to close the door in her face.

A little girl poked her nose out from behind Quinn, shyly looking up at him. When he glanced at her, she hid behind Quinn's leg. "Can I talk to you?"

"No." Blaine's answer was very flat, but she forced her way in, anyway. Glaring after her, Blaine hurried to his babies and gathered them in his arms. "What do you want?"

"Yeah…" Finn said from where he stood by the couch, his arms crossed. "What are you doing here, Quinn?"

"I'm here to talk to Blaine." She snapped, then whipped around to face Blaine. "I came to tell you that Puck left me for good." When Blaine didn't respond, she sat down on the edge of the couch and pulled the little girl onto her lap. "I've slept with a few guys since then, but none of them wanted long term or my baggage." She looked at the little girl to make what baggage she was talking about clear. "I want to be able to do this on my own, but I can't. And Beth needs a fatherly figure."

Blaine arched his brows, but he didn't say a word.

She went on, "You're the only one with any experience with babies… and since you and Kurt broke up—"

"I'm still engaged to Kurt." He quickly corrected.

"Please," she rolled her eyes, "he's not coming back, Blaine. And if he is, he definitely won't take you back once he finds out you've been sleeping around like a man-whore. I go to the same bars as you… I hear your name tossed around and they're usually talking about sex."

"Quinn—" Finn snapped, but she ignored him.

"I'm suggesting the two of us start a partnership." She raised her brows as if to test his reaction, but he didn't show any of his emotions. "Beth needs a fatherly figure, and you can't keep playing mother to those two." She nodded at the babies in Blaine's arms. "You need to get a job. Start taking care of yourself. Act like a man. I can tell that you've started to let yourself go. So… do we have an agreement? We'll sign a few documents… start living together. This wouldn't be for either of us, Blaine, so I don't want to have sex with you. Just think about the babies—"

"Quinn, you can't be serious—" Finn put in, shutting himself up when she waved him off. He looked at Blaine, "Blaine, you can't agree to this. There's no fucking way I'd let you do this to yourself."

Blaine tuned him out, his hand lifting to where his wedding ring would have gone. Quinn was right… Kurt was happy in France. He'd found another man, was living his dreams of Broadway and modeling… Blaine wondered if he would ever come home. Pursing his lips, Blaine stared at Quinn, then at the little girl on her lap. He was tired of doing harm, so he closed his eyes and hesitantly nodded his head.

* * *

Kurt pulled his suitcase onto his bed and unzipped it, packing a few piles of clothes into it. He thought about what it would be like to be home again, to be with his family, with Blaine. He was excited but nervous, feeling a little guilty for leaving France six months early. But he knew what he wanted, and he couldn't wait to be with Blaine again.

Hearing his phone ring, Kurt murmured a little and looked up at it. The call was from Santana, which surprised him since he hadn't heard from her since she left Hunter with them, but he quickly picked it up. "Santana?" He murmured.

"Kurt…" she sounded hesitant, and he could hear her swallowing several times, "Kurt… I have to tell you something."

"Me, too!" He peeped, smiling against the phone, "Santana, I'm coming home early."

"Don't." was the first thing she said, and he was immediately alarmed. "Kurt… Blaine is getting married."

The phone slipped from his grip, tears instantly swelling in his eyes. He squeezed his hands into little fists, feeling the diamonds of his engagement ring scratching his palm. He looked at it, wondering what it meant to Blaine anymore… and why he didn't love him.


	76. Innocent

Author's note: Hey, guys. I get that a lot of you are upset so I just wanted you to know that even though the Quinn issue will be there, it won't be focused on/noticed much. Many of you can probably guess where I'm going from here, but here are a few spoilers:

A close friend of Kurt's will come back in the next chapter and make Kurt very happy. Blaine will go to California. He will meet up with some old friends there. Carole and Burt are getting very close to their wedding, which will cause a major turn of events.

Anyway... yeah. I'm getting tired of writing this way so I might cut the year off early, depending on what I do with Blaine's upcoming job. Anyway, Kurt gets some revenge in this chapter XD that sounds so funny to say, and Blaine does something stupid. And that's about it.

deshaunwalker: Sorry about Quinn! :( I was planning her for months and there was kind of no way to avoid her without messing my entire story up, so here she is. And, yeah, Kurt's not coming home... yet. He really wanted to, but then Santana's call screwed everything up. And Kurt still loves Blaine, he's not upset with him :) that's mentioned in this chapter.

TimF: Klaine isn't doomed, I promise :( I'm trying to convince everyone that I do have a happy ending planned out, but it's just really hard right now. I don't think Kurt has to be a virtuous saint or anything (even though I understand your point) but I view cheating more from an emotional pov. If the person sincerely regrets it and is guilty about it, I think they're worth forgiving (depending on the relationship and if you still even like them or not.) I still think Blaine deserves Kurt; even though he messed up a little recently he was still raped for Kurt, and took a bullet for him, and completely protected him from Karofsky. I'm done with him sleeping around now and even though he married Quinn in this chapter it will get better.

kathrynevie21: Aww thanks for reading this and staying with it! I promise that there isn't much more pain. The Blaine-Quinn relationship will be there but I definitely won't focus on it. I'm going to concentrate mostly on Blaine's upcoming job.

kirabocaro: I'm sorry! I'll make it better. I'm done with Blaine sleeping around. The next few chapters won't be as painful, I promise. I just want you to know that I stopped watching Glee, too, because the storyline got too painful. So, just so you know, I am a total shipper of Klaine. I hate them with anyone else. Kurt does get some revenge in this chapter, so he isn't as hurt. Thanks for reading and sticking with it so far :)

Tommseesit: I'm really sorry! It'll get better :)

julymom97: I do have a happy ending planned out, and I get that it's hard to see now but it's coming. The thing about Blaine is that he does love and respect Kurt very much, which is why it was so easy to let him go. He wanted Kurt to be happy, whether it was with another guy or with him, and just based off his assumption from the magazine he didn't want to pressure Kurt into staying with him by calling him or bothering him. I know it's depressing right now, but it'll just last maybe ten or fifteen chapters more and I'll be focusing on Blaine's new job, not on any of his affairs. And thanks! :)

Klaine forever and ever 3: I know it's getting really bad, but I'm not following Glee because I feel like Blaine on Glee has no guilt about anything he does, while my Blaine has nothing but guilt inside of him. I'm focusing more on the emotions instead of the relationships. I'll make it better!

* * *

Blaine pulled in front of Quinn's house, stopping the car in the middle of her driveway. He sat there for a few minutes, waiting for Santana to make a move first, tell him that it was okay. She didn't move a single inch, so he glanced over at her and frowned at her hardened expression, "I have to sign this document."

"You don't _have _to do anything, you dick." She snapped at him, slouching in her seat and crossing her arms. "But if you actually feel like you'll do some good fathering Quinn's bastard, then you go in and sign it. I don't want to watch you sign your life away to that bitch."

Putting his hand on his hot forehead, Blaine rested his cheek against the window, "I need your support. I can't do this on my own."

"Then don't do it at all, dammit!" She threw her hands up to show her frustration, "Because you don't have my fucking support. Don't you remember six months ago at all? You were Kurt's… you were getting married to him—"

"Of course I remember!" He shouted at her, "It's all I can think about, San. Everything reminds me of him. But he found another man, and I was doing no one any good after he left me. I'm not doing this for Quinn, but there can't be any harm in helping a little girl."

"You're too unstable right now to even help yourself." She muttered from the side of her mouth. "What makes you think you can help a little girl?"

"The same reason why you gave Hunter up to me." He cut her off, then reached for his door handle, "I want to get this over with. Are you coming?"

She didn't answer him, her eyes away from him and her body not twitching.

Shaking his head, Blaine stepped out of the car and walked up to the door, knocking a few times. Almost immediately, the door cracked open and Quinn stared at him, "I have the documents if you're ready to sign." Pulling him into the house, she murmured, "We have to talk about what we're doing about living arrangements and what job you're going to get. It needs to be something that can keep us fed. I'm asking for full custody of the babies you have, and you can have full custody of Beth. Since we're not going to be consummated, we can leave the marriage at any time without divorce. Do you agree to my terms?"

Blaine silently nodded his head, sitting down when she gestured to one of the couches. She handed him a pile of papers, and he flipped through it, reading more detailed paragraphs of what she was saying. He got to the last page and stared at the bottom of it, where she had already signed her name on the first line. Another line was just underneath it, and he spent a long time looking at it.

Quinn kept the pen to herself, still watching Blaine to see if he was in disagreement with anything she said, "I'm also asking that I get to sleep with other men… I don't expect this marriage to last long. Beth and I just need you to take care of us until we can find something more permanent." When Blaine looked up at her, she continued, "By permanent I mean a man who isn't gay and actually loves me. The only way I can find that is if I spend time with other men."

Blaine nodded again, and she immediately kept talking, "About our living arrangements and the job you're going to get… I need to make sure I'm marrying a man who _can_ actually take care of us. What are you planning on doing? Because I can't live in Burt Hummel's house."

"I don't want you to." He muttered, not caring if he had offended her.

She rolled her eyes, "I'll let that go. But what about your house in California? Isn't that vacant right now?"

Blaine's eyes snapped up to her, "California? No. My family is here—"

"They're not your family, Blaine." Quinn pointed out, which stabbed him in the heart. "You and Kurt left each other. You have no relation to any of them. You can't keep mooching off Burt… it's especially wrong since you're screwing other men and haven't talked to his son in months. Just… move on, Blaine. It'll be better for you. We can start over in California… you can actually have a social life and a good job. Face it, Blaine. You're not wanted here… you're just hurting them."

Blaine looked at her again, shoving his fingers into his hair. He slid his hand to his nose and pinched the bridge of it, wanting someone else to tell him what to do. He didn't want to make this decision on his own. But he had no choice… no one else understood. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just left. He knew he was hurting Finn, and maybe even Burt if he knew what Blaine was doing when he left the house. But Blaine also didn't want to see Kurt if he came back in six months. He didn't want to hurt Kurt by showing him what he'd become, what he'd done to himself.

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Blaine held his hand out for the pen. Quinn smiled and handed it over, "I still have to know what job you're getting, but we can look at what's offered when we get to California."

Blaine quietly took the pen from her, holding it against the paper. He slowly scratched the first letter of his name, then the next. He finished writing and squeezed the pen so hard that he could hear the plastic snapping. Quinn took the pile of papers from him and turned around, "I want to get out of this town by the end of the week. Think you can have everything packed up by then?"

Staring up at her, Blaine tried seeing the person he just married. But he saw nothing… felt nothing.

* * *

Kurt curled up on his aunt's lap and cried against her stomach, feeling her soft hands run through his hair as she rubbed his back. "Kurt… Kurt, shh… You've cried too much and no man deserves your tears. Come here." Gently lifting his head, she rubbed his puffy eyes with her fingers, "You have red eyes and swollen lips."

Kurt's tears came harder and he pressed into her, and he felt her kiss his forehead, "I l-love him so much, Aunt Laurice. Why did he leave me? Why didn't he love m-me anymore?" He sniffled and hiccupped, so she wiped his red nose with her sleeve.

"Shh…" Rocking him like a small child, she held him close and tried to think of anything she could tell him. But she was drawing a blank… he hadn't stopped crying since his friend had called him, and she was losing ideas of comforting him. "Kurt… you'll be okay. He's just a guy. Any other guy would be happy to make you happy."

Kurt sobbed harder, scrunching himself up in a tiny ball, "I d-don't want another man… I want _Blaine!_"

When she heard the phone ring above his noisy weeping, she swore and gently lifted him from her lap. He reached out for her and tried to cling to her, so she quickly smoothed his hair, "Shh… I'll be right back."

Kurt stayed on the couch, his head against the cushion and his knees tucked under him. He watched his aunt leave the room, his eyes blurred with tears. Sniffing and gnawing his lip until it was sore, Kurt heard his aunt come back into the room, the phone at her ear. "Okay… I'll get him." Pressing the phone to her shirt, his aunt whispered, "Kurt, it's your modeling company… Vogue. They want to talk to you. Wipe your eyes and try to calm down."

Trembling, Kurt held his hand out for the phone. He didn't want to talk to anyone, but he hated being rude. He knew how badly it hurt to be ignored. His aunt gave him the phone and sat down by him, pulling him back into her arms. Pressing the phone to his ear, Kurt squeaked, "Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt." came Unique's solemn voice, "I need to tell you something."

Kurt pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped one arm around them, looking down at his toes, "What is it? You sound worried."

Unique took a moment to reply, then she said, "Stanley doesn't want you around here anymore. You can come pick up a few outfits and your pay from the last photo shoot, but he said that… you're not his kind of model."

"What?" Kurt peeped, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. His aunt looked closely at him as if to ask what was wrong.

"He said that you're too much trouble… and too shy with men. And that the only good thing you did was that magazine with Brody."

Kurt was even more confused, "Magazine? I've never done a photo shoot with Brody."

"You didn't know about the magazine?" Unique scoffed as if he was absolutely oblivious, "It was everywhere, Kurt. You know, it's probably why Blaine left you… he probably thought you'd turned into a slut for other men." Not realizing she had hit a raw nerve on Kurt and he had to bite his lip to keep from sobbing again, she continued, "Hold on, I'll send you a picture of it."

The call clicked off, but seconds later the phone buzzed with a text. He opened it and saw a picture of himself on a magazine cover, trapped in Brody's arms while Brody tried to nuzzle him. It clearly looked like they'd been caught in an intimate embrace, Kurt's eyes wide and a startled expression on his face while he was squeezed to Brody's chest.

"Oh, no…" he whispered, pressing his fingertips to his lips. What if Unique was right, that Blaine had seen the picture? Blaine had stopped speaking to him around the same time that Brody followed him into his dressing room and tried to hold Kurt. Shaking from his head to his toes, Kurt swung his legs off the couch. "Aunt Laurice, can I please go into the city for a little while?"

"Kurt, sweetheart…" she grabbed his little hand and squeezed, "you've been crying. You must be exhausted. Let me drive you around."

"No," Kurt shook his head, "please… I need to do this on my own."

When she sighed and backed off, Kurt turned around and grabbed his shawl and a pair of shoes. He started to open the door, "I'll be home in an hour, I promise." Walking outside, Kurt shivered as the cooling weather brushed his damp cheeks. He approached the closest man he saw and murmured, "Excuse me, where is the Avenant Hotel?"

The man pointed to the left, "Right down that way. You know, a little thing like you shouldn't be walking around alone. Any man could snatch you up."

Kurt wrapped his shawl tighter around himself when the cool air bit through his thin shirt, "I'm not helpless." He whispered, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or the man of that. "Thank you for the directions." Turning away, Kurt headed down the street the man pointed to, and after a few minutes he spotted the towering hotel.

He padded through the doors and looked around, hearing someone approaching him. He looked up at a woman a few years older than him, "Are you looking for someone?" she murmured.

"Yes." Loosening his grip on his shawl, Kurt murmured, "Is Brody Weston staying here?"

"He's in the luxury suite." She nodded at the elevators, "Take that up to the top floor. You'll see it."

"Thank you." He wandered toward the elevator and stepped inside, feeling it slowly move up to the top floor. It was moving too slowly, giving Kurt too much time to think. He was relieved when it finally dinged at the right floor and the doors slid open.

He immediately saw the doors to the luxury suite, and he hesitantly padded up to them. Knocking twice, he heard grunts and movement from within, then footsteps walking across the floor. The door opened, revealing Brody only in a loose towel that was hanging too low at his hips. "Kurt?" He muttered, raising his brows skeptically. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt turned his head, "Please put on some clothes. I need to talk to you."

Brody stared at him for a moment, then started pitying Kurt's little face that looked scrunched and pink with tears. "Come on in… face that wall. I'll get some clothes on." He pulled Kurt in and faced him toward a wall, then said, "Hey… you've got to leave. My friend's over and he has a fear of men."

Kurt opened his mouth to correct him, then quieted himself when he realized it would do no good. He wasn't here to bicker about why he didn't want to kiss Brody. He heard more movement, then another guy walked by him, leaving the room. Brody shut the door behind him, "Okay, you can turn around now."

Slowly turning, Kurt pursed his lips together, "I'm sorry to interrupt… I just… I need to know something."

"If it's how to be a better kisser, then Brody Weston's your man." Brody sat down on the edge of his bed, smirking at Kurt. "Have you changed your mind?"

"Please don't tease." Kurt begged, starting to sit down on one of the sofas then hesitating. "Have you…" His voice trailed off and he wondered how to ask such an intrusive question.

Brody seemed to understand, "No, I haven't had sex on that sofa. Yet. I have on the other one. What's going on, Kurt? You just ran out on the Broadway show and no one's heard from you since."

"I'm very sorry about that." Kurt mumbled, "I didn't mean to ruin the show… something was bothering me. I wasn't… feeling well." Swallowing thickly, Kurt pulled his phone from his pocket, "I wanted to know if you knew about this picture." He held his phone out and Brody stood, taking it from Kurt.

He raised his brows at the picture, "Uh… no. I definitely don't read paparazzi magazines. What's the problem? This was, like, months ago."

Kurt nodded, "Yes… but I just found out about the picture today. My fiancé… l-left me… and I think it's because of that picture."

Brody shrugged, handing the phone back to him, "Not my problem."

Kurt was alarmed by his blunt disinterest, "Brody, you're the one who came after me! Blaine means everything to me… and he's gone now. The least you could do is say that you're sorry. Please… all I want is for you to apologize. I could ask for so much more because Blaine is worth that… and losing him has hurt me so much… but that's all I want, Brody. Please… just say that you're sorry."

Brody rolled his eyes, "Obviously your fiancé knows he can't stand up to other men if he doesn't have the balls to talk to you about it first—"

Kurt's eyes flew open wide, and before he could even stop himself he lifted his hand and slapped Brody across the face. "What a horrible thing to say!" He shrilly squeaked, pulling away from Brody. "You are mean! Blaine is more of a man than you'll ever be… he's kind and sweet and gentle, but you've never been nice to me!" Clapping his hand over his mouth, Kurt hiccupped and felt tears roll down his cheeks. "All I wanted was for you to say you're sorry, Brody."

"I didn't do anything wrong." Brody held his hands apart, "And your fiancé should have the fucking balls to not assume that you've turned skank on him and actually talk to you."

"You don't know anything about him!" Kurt shrieked, "Blaine is very brave."

Brody stuck his tongue in his cheek, "Really? To me he sounds like he doesn't have balls." Pointing at the door, Brody muttered, "You can leave. Now. Brody Weston doesn't like being slapped."

"You monster!" Kurt screamed, raising his voice for probably the first time ever. He raced out of Brody's room and got a little ways down the hallway before he collapsed, falling to his knees and pressing his cheek to the carpet. Gasping, Kurt pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a very familiar number. It rang for what felt like a long time, not that Kurt expected anyone to answer, and no one did. He left a voicemail for Blaine, "Blaine… I still love you… no matter what you've done or who you've been with. I'm still in love with you. Please… I want you back. There is no other man for me… you're the only one I love. Blaine… please… please… I need you…"

* * *

Blaine dragged his suitcase down the stairs, not caring about how much noise he made. He had a little audience in the living room, Archer and Hunter bundled up in a fuzzy blanket and batting at him as he thudded from step to step. Shoving his fingers into his curls, Blaine laid his suitcase by the door and went to sit by his babies, letting them grab at his hands. He heard another person walk into the room, and he looked up and stared at Burt.

Burt quickly looked between him and the suitcase by the door, then grumbled, "Where are you going?"

Hunter stuck one of Blaine's fingers in his mouth, sucking lazily on it. Blaine looked down at him and patted his belly, then back up. Finn had appeared from the same doorway as Burt, and he had the same reaction to the suitcase. "I'm leaving." He muttered.

"I get that." Burt crossed his arms. "Blaine, unless you got accepted into a college your butt is staying here. I told you that. You're family—"

"I'm not family." He corrected, taking his finger from Hunter's slobbery mouth and smoothing his thick hair. "I'm going to California at the end of the week. There's nothing you can do to stop me."

"California?" Finn whispered. "Blaine, why didn't you talk to me about this?"

Blaine ignored him, "I'm going with Quinn… my wife."

Burt's jaw almost hit the floor, "Wife? What are you talking about? Are you drunk?"

"I want to be." He muttered, turning away from them. "It happened this morning. I don't want to talk about it… ask Finn. He knows everything." Picking up the little bundle of babies, Blaine staggered up the stairs but paused at the top of them when he heard Burt's frantic voice.

"What is he talking about, Finn?" Burt almost yelled. "What about my kid?"

"Him and Kurt broke up." Finn said quietly. "Kurt cheated on him… Blaine kind of lost his mind and started sleeping around. That's why he's been leaving so much. Quinn came by and asked him to take care of her and her baby… I didn't think he'd take her up on it."

Burt seemed to be stuck on one thing in Finn's statement, "Kurt cheated? Where did you hear that? My little Kurt… the boy who blushes at the sight of shirtless men. He cheated?"

"I saw him and another guy hugging on a magazine." Finn murmured, "I showed it to Blaine and he freaked out."

"Of course he freaked out!" Burt shouted, "He's an emotional mess and he believes anything you tell him! Finn, you saw that on a _magazine!_ You haven't even talked to your brother about it. I can tell you one thing, I know Kurt and I know he wouldn't cheat. Finn, you just ruined your brother's engagement… and you may have ruined Blaine's life. This is marriage we're talking about… Blaine can't just step out of this. I bet Kurt's heartbroken… I have to call his aunt… see how he's doing."

"Burt, I didn't mean to!" Finn yelled after Burt, "I just saw the picture and it looked pretty bad."

"I want you to call your brother and apologize. Now, Finn." Burt demanded, and then there was a door slamming and quiet after that.

Shuddering, Blaine threw his head back and dug his fingernails into his palms. He had no idea what was a lie and what wasn't… he was so confused. Closing his eyes, Blaine sank to the floor. No matter what, his life was ruined… so he just had to accept that he would never have Kurt again.

But he couldn't… he wanted to think that Kurt would come back to him one day… because he still loved him so much.


	77. Safe & Sound

Author's note: Hey, guys :) So, Blaine ends up in California in this one, and Kurt's friend makes an appearance. And Kurt and Blaine talk... sort of. I guess you could call it that. My next chapter will be Blaine's twentieth birthday, and he starts working somewhere. Kurt will send him a gift that Blaine can wear on his hand, and there might be another phone call. Sorry about the bad writing style/delay for this one. I've been studying for a lot of tests, and then my cat, who has been at the vet for eight days now because he had a virus, came home today, and then I've been watching anime and yeah. I should have my next chapter up tonight or tomorrow.

deshaunwalker: I know, but that's why this story is a drama. I get why you're agreeing with Brody, but Blaine doesn't have a lot of sense and he's extremely gullible so that's why he didn't talk to Kurt. Yeah, Quinn is a bitch, and I laughed at your comment about Santana! I can so see Santana doing something like that... I love her and Blaine together XD Sorry, Kurt doesn't come home yet but there is a phone call between them! And Blaine does sleep a little in this chapter... during the car ride. But I just noticed that you're right, he barely sleeps XD maybe that's why he's so grumpy...

klainelover8189: Klaine will see each other again eventually and they might get back together :) Blaine almost talks to Kurt in this one. Yeah, I'm starting to dislike Finn more and more...

kirabocaro: Sorry! I'll make it better eventually :)

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Aww I hope you're having fun with them! It's no biggie. I haven't been able to write much because my kitty just came home from the vet after staying there for like a week and then I've been watching anime XD

* * *

Blaine winced as he heard a car door slam shut from outside, and he pulled his babies closer to himself. Looking over at Santana, he leaned closer to her when Burt got up to answer the door. He heard his gruff voice cynically questioning the woman Blaine had just married, "You're Quinn?" He muttered, stepping aside to let her in.

Seeing her come into his line of sight, Blaine lifted his head and stared at her, still feeling absolutely nothing. "It's time to go, Blaine." She snapped her fingers. "We have a flight to get on. I'll meet you in the car… hurry up."

She turned away and walked out the door, and Burt glared after her. "She's very rude." Looking at Blaine, Burt rubbed the top of his head and coughed, "I'll help you take your stuff out, Blaine."

Carole held her fingertips to her lips and she tried to swallow a low sob, "Blaine, you don't have to do this. You don't have to go with her."

Blaine remained silent, getting up from the couch and wandering up the stairs. Wrapping his arms around himself, Blaine dug his fingernails into his palms and stepped into his empty bedroom. There was only a bed and dresser left behind, the rest of it stripped from the room and stuffed into bags and boxes. He went to sit down on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor, remembering what it felt like to be with Kurt in here.

He remembered lying beside of Kurt in bed, rolling on top of him and hearing him squeal with laughter. He would always try to hide his blushing face, his feet kicking under the blankets. He remembered how he felt when he woke up with Kurt draped across his chest, hugging him so tightly, his fluttering lashes tickling his nipple.

Blaine closed his eyes and felt a tear roll down his cheek. He had to stop. Stop thinking about it. He wondered if it had ever been real, if Kurt was even real. Standing from the bed, Blaine turned around and arched his brows at the sight of Kurt standing by the window. Kurt smiled at him, that little dimpled smile that Blaine adored. "Blaine," he squeaked, holding his hands out for Blaine.

Blaine stepped toward him and reached for him, sliding their fingers together. "Blaine… I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Blaine muttered, then tightened his grip when he felt Kurt slipping away from him. "Don't go!"

Kurt looked past him, and then he was gone when Blaine heard another voice, much deeper than Kurt's pretty, high pitched voice. "You're really going to leave?"

Blaine whipped around and faced Finn, his hands still trembling from the feeling of holding Kurt's. "I don't have a choice." He whispered, crossing his arms and walking past Finn.

Finn grabbed Blaine's shoulder, startling him. Pulling Blaine close, Finn rubbed Blaine's back and kissed the side of his neck. Blaine jerked away from him. "I'll remember our night together." He whispered, clinging to Blaine. "I don't want you to leave… but I know I can't stop you. Bye, Blaine."

Blaine swallowed thickly and shoved his fingers into his hair. He didn't want to say goodbye anymore, so he pushed Finn off of him, "Go away."

He strode out of his bedroom and only looked back once, catching a brief glimpse of what used to be his and Kurt's. Hurrying down the stairs before he could run back and lock himself up, Blaine stopped in the middle of the living room. He was so confused on what to do or what to say. He just wanted to run… leave… not say goodbye to the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Glancing at Carole, who had tears in her eyes, Blaine shook his head and grabbed his tiny babies. He rested them against his shoulders and felt Pavarotti and Everett paw at his pant leg. He bent and let the little birds climb up his sleeve, then he walked out of the house without another word.

Santana was in front of Quinn's car, her arms crossed and eyes too dark, and Burt was loading his suitcases into the back. Raising a brow at him as he approached her, she whispered, "This will come back to bite you in the ass, Blaine."

"I know." Blaine nodded his head, "But it's all I have right now."

"Don't shit with me." Shoving his chest, Santana sighed and ran her hand through her hair when Quinn beeped the horn. "I guess that bitch wants you. Get going, asshole."

Blaine held his arms out, but she quickly rejected him and stepped past him, "I'm not saying bye to you. You'll come back… when you realize what a stupid mistake you made."

"Don't do this, San—" He quietly begged, not sure if he could take the sting of her bitterness.

She kept her distance, turning away from him and striding up to his house. Blaine looked away after she disappeared inside, and he felt Burt come up behind him. Closing his eyes, Blaine stood very still as Burt wrapped his arms around him. "Take care, kid." He patted Blaine's back, "I want you to know that you're always welcome home, no matter what you've done. Kurt would want it that way. This is where you belong… you're one of my sons and I love you just as much as I do Kurt and Finn." Squeezing Blaine's hand, Burt leaned in and kissed his forehead.

Blaine finally felt himself breaking, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you." He whispered, but before Burt could respond he opened the passenger door and stepped inside.

He reached back to set Archer and Hunter in their car seats, then felt Quinn put the car in reverse. She backed out of the driveway and Blaine looked up at his house for the last time, Burt standing in the driveway with his hands in his pockets, and Carole and Santana in the doorway. He quickly glanced away, fearing that he'd jump out of the car and go back to them.

Blaine dug his fingernails into his palms, but Quinn quickly reached over and slapped his hands, "Gross, Blaine. What are you doing? You're drawing blood. Are those scars? That's disgusting."

Trying to release his palms, Blaine stared at his slashed skin, skin that would never heal and would always remind him of what he'd done. "Disgusting…" he whispered, wiping his hands on his pants. "Disgusting."

Quinn ignored him and kept driving, reaching the limits of Lima within twenty minutes. Blaine looked back one last time, trying to memorize the place where he'd fallen in love and found a family… or what he thought was his family.

* * *

Kurt spooned another bite of ice cream into his mouth, snuggling deeper under his blankets as he watched Belle gently nurse the Beast's wounded arm, his eyes darkening and slowly softening on her. "It's so romantic," he peeped, happily gazing at the screen when his aunt walked in the room.

"Hey, Kurt…" she knocked on his door, distracting him from his fifteenth romantic movie, "sweetie, you've been watching those romance movies all day. Don't you want to take a break?" She pointed at Kurt's bowl of ice cream. "And don't eat all my ice cream. It's my midnight snack, too."

Pushing the bowl away, Kurt murmured, "But it's nice to see people so happy together. Everyone ends up together in romance movies… and they can't stop smiling."

"Oh, sweetie…" his aunt shook her head. "Why don't you look away from the TV for a little bit? You have a visitor." She gestured to someone he couldn't see, and then a man stepped into his doorway.

He had a very kind face, turquoise eyes and a pink mouth that was curved into a smirk. His skin was tan but his hair was a very light blond, swinging from the top of his head and wrapping around his face. He waved at Kurt, his grin widening, "Hi, Kurt."

Kurt recognized the voice immediately, even though he'd changed so much, and he squealed, "Keegan!" Holding his arms out, he laughed when Keegan paced up to him and gripped him tightly. He didn't want to let him go, his embrace so comforting, his smell still spicy and outdoorsy. "Keegan… it's so good to see you. I've missed you so much."

Sitting down on the edge of Kurt's bed, Keegan raised his brows at him, "You look really good, Kurt. You haven't changed at all." He glanced at Laurice, who was still standing in the doorway, "I think I've got him from here."

She smiled, "Good. He needs someone to cheer him up. I'm going downstairs to get some ice cream before Kurt eats it all." Leaving the doorway, she vanished around the corner.

Kurt heard her walking down the stairs, then he looked back up at Keegan, "How did you know I was here?"

"You're all over the media." Keegan snorted, laying down beside of Kurt and drawing his knees up. He took Kurt's hand, "It was all too ridiculous to believe… but I just had to see you. How have you been? I heard you gave up on Broadway… I didn't want to believe that but there were pictures of it."

Kurt frowned, snuggling into Keegan's side and laying his head on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to. I'm very sorry that I messed up the show. I just… thought about my home in Ohio. I miss everything in Ohio, and I wanted to go home."

Keegan made a soft sound and rested his head on top of Kurt's, his wavy hair tickling Kurt. "Why didn't you? I'm kind of glad you didn't… because now I get to see you… but why'd you stay?"

Sighing, Kurt squeezed Keegan's hand, "I was engaged… but I found out that he left me. So I stayed."

"Do you still love him?" Keegan muttered.

"I do… very much. I would go back to him if he asked me to." Curling up in a small ball, Kurt wrapped his arms around Keegan. "What about you? Have you been dating since…?" His voice got very small as he thought of the night that Keegan lost Everett, and how sad he had been for a long time after that. "I'm sorry… I don't want to upset you."

Keegan shifted underneath him, clearing his throat a few times, "No… it's okay. It's still hard… because no one knows how much I loved him. I still love him. I'm crazy about him. So… no, I haven't been dating. I'm okay that way, you know." Sighing, Keegan tightened his arms around Kurt. "Everett is the only man I'll ever love, Kurt. It's not even a promise to myself… I know I won't love anyone else… not the way I love Everett."

Kurt closed his eyes, and for a few minutes everything was silent between them. He finally opened his eyes and whispered, "He almost killed my fiancé… and me."

"Who did?" Keegan started to sit up. "Who are you talking about?"

Shaking his head, Kurt said in a very tiny voice, "I knew that man… the one who took Everett from you."

Keegan's tan face drained of color, "You knew him? What do you mean? Kurt, talk to me. Did he hurt you?" Touching Kurt's arms, Keegan seemed to be trying to search him for wounds or bruises. "Shit, Kurt… he didn't do anything to you, did he? I hate him!"

Kurt pressed his lips together, "He didn't hurt me. Well… he did… but nothing that couldn't heal. My fiancé knew him better. They were best friends for a very long time. After he… attacked us, he went to America and changed his name. My fiancé didn't know… but Karofsky—the man who hurt us—became obsessed with him. I came to America and went to the same school as him… I was in the same class as him… and I didn't even know it. Blaine and I fell in love with each other, and that must have hurt Karofsky… so he did awful things to Blaine. He r-raped him… and beat him. But… Karofsky is in prison now."

"He's in prison?" Keegan sounded absolutely shocked. "I thought he'd never be captured! I just… wanted to know who he was. Why he took Everett from me. I've asked that question every day… what did we do wrong? People have called me a fag before… and they've even hit me. I just never thought it'd…" he choked and swallowed. "I was so stupid, Kurt. We shouldn't have gone into that alley. It was a stupid mistake… and I've never stopped regretting it."

"It wasn't your fault." Kurt insisted, his voice getting higher as his emotions got the best of him. "Keegan, Karofsky was a cruel man. He was bitter and mean… and I thought he could change. I wanted him to be good. I talked to him…" his eyes filled with tears and he rubbed them with small fists, "but there was nothing I could do to help him. I know he didn't like gay people… but I don't think he liked anyone. And nobody liked him. It hurts that he's suffering so much… but then I think about all of the things he's done to you and to Blaine, and I—"

Kurt cut himself off and he wept into his hands, and Keegan pulled him closer, "You've always been too nice." He whispered, rubbing Kurt's back. "But I get it. His life is shit so he wants to take others down with him. I want to pity him… but I can't. He took my heart from me."

Kurt sobbed harder, "Why are some people so mean? They'd be happier if they tried to understand… tried to be nice to others. Everett would still be here and Blaine would get better and—"

"Shh… I know." Keegan rubbed his back. "I think you care too much… you're too friendly. It makes it easier for you to get hurt by cruel people. You want to see the best in people… and sometimes they're just mean." Weakly smiling at Kurt, Keegan whispered, "You're still the same old Kurt. I love that about you… but it's too easy to hurt you."

Kurt sniffled, "I just miss Everett… and Blaine was hurting himself because of what happened to him. His hands are so scarred because he clawed them… and he has bumps on his body because he was stabbed with glass. His ankle has a scar on it because Karofsky tried to shoot me and Blaine jumped in the way. He's a monster."

"Yeah, he is." Pulling Kurt closer, Keegan said, "Listen… Kurt… it's okay now. I'm sure Blaine will get better now that he's gone, and I just needed to hear that. I didn't want the man who took Everett from me to get away with it. Look at me." He tilted Kurt's chin so he could stare into his big, blue eyes and he whispered, "You're really brave. You've been through pain that some people never could. Thank you for telling me all of that. I needed to know."

Kurt hiccupped, "I needed to tell you."

Holding Kurt to his chest, Keegan turned to the TV, which was paused on Beauty and the Beast, "What's with you and this story?"

Wearily smiling, Kurt whispered, "I loved it as a child… and then I heard it again not too long ago and I realized how much I care for the beast. I like seeing him get better… and become a man again."

"You're as sweet as sugar, Kurt." Keegan laughed aloud, sinking onto the bed beside of Kurt. "Can I watch it with you?"

"Don't go." Kurt pleaded, snuggling into Keegan's chest. He felt better in Keegan's arms, but nothing compared to opening his eyes and feeling those dark arms around him, those strong hands on his back and bottom, and those warm lips on his face.

* * *

Blaine awoke to the sound of sand crunching under tires and he opened his eyes to blackness, the only light shimmering from the waving ocean a few feet in front of him. "Ohio," he whispered, jerking upright. "I want to go home. I can't stay here."

Quinn put the car in park and reached to the backseat for her daughter, "Stop mumbling. You'll wake the babies. I'm exhausted from driving since you slept the entire way, so stop talking. I have a headache."

Staring at Quinn as if he'd never seen her before, Blaine felt tears fill his eyes. Quinn opened her car door and stepped outside, cradling Beth against her chest, but Blaine stayed behind. He looked at the ocean again, then at the sand, and he started to panic. "What have I done?" Pressing his hands to his face, Blaine yelped, "What the fuck have I done?" He helplessly dug his nails into his palms, anxiously scratching off the skin.

Throwing open his car door, Blaine fell onto the sand and clawed at the sharp pieces, the grittiness getting under his nails. "I want to go home!" He screamed, curling his hands into tight fists and tearing skin off in chunks. Blood burst from his skin and dropped to the sand in small puddles, staining the tan with dark red. "Kurt! Kurt!"

"What is the matter with you?" Someone shouted from behind him, and two hands wrapped around him. He was yanked to his knees and his chin was pinched. Quinn lifted his head so he could stare at her, "What, are you some kind of psycho? Stop! You're freaking me out."

"Don't touch me!" He jerked away from her, "You're not Kurt!" Slamming himself into the side of the car, he hissed, "Stay away from me, but don't go to the top floor. That's mine." He yanked open the back door and saw his little babies, both of them staring at him with wide eyes. Reaching in, he unbuckled them and gathered them up, and Pavarotti and Everett hopped onto his arm.

He shakily got to his feet and stormed past her, hearing her voice calling after him, asking him if he needed to see a doctor, if he was taking medicine for his outbursts. He ignored her. Stepping inside the house, Blaine recognized the same furniture from all of those months ago, when he'd taken Kurt to California. It all seemed so distant now, but Blaine could still remember it so clearly. He heard the door shut and he quickly stomped up the stairs, not wanting to face Quinn again. He found his way up to his bedroom and pushed the door open, seeing everything he used to be on the abandoned dressers and plastered to his walls.

He continued through his room to the little guest bedroom off to the side, and he picked that room. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Blaine laid his little babies down and let his birds climb off his arm. He heard Quinn below him, moving things around and obviously looking for a place to sleep. He ignored her again, turning around and tucking his babies under the blankets. They batted at him and grabbed his fingers, but he pulled away when he felt his phone buzz.

Fishing it out of his pocket, Blaine gasped when he saw that the call was from Kurt. He twitched to answer it, but he closed his eyes and forced himself not to. Eventually the phone stopped vibrating and a voicemail popped up, and Blaine was helpless to it. He pressed his phone to his ear and listened to the sweet, soft sound of Kurt's voice, still that same high pitched, bell-like chime. "Blaine… I don't have any idea of what I should say to you… or if I should say anything at all, but I know you've married someone else. It hurts me so much… I've spent days crying about you. But I just want you to know that I want you to be happy… I'd like to know that you are. Because you have a beautiful smile. I still love you so much…" there was a brief hesitation, and a quiet sniffle. "I'm going to sleep now, so goodnight, Blaine. Sleep well. I love you."

Blaine replayed the message, his head hitting the pillow. He listened to Kurt's melodic voice, not a hint of resentment or guilt in it. He was starting to wonder if Burt had been right, if Kurt hadn't cheated on him at all. Gasping, Blaine played the message over again when it finished. He kept playing it again and again, hearing Kurt's innocent voice, talking to him the same way he did before Finn even showed him that picture.

Not realizing what he was doing, Blaine hit the call back button and listened to his phone ring. After about ten rings, there was a click. That same soft voice whispered, "Blaine?"

Blaine immediately panicked and stared at his phone, wondering what the fuck he'd just done. There was a call to Kurt on his screen, and he was about thirty seconds into the call. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Kurt's quiet voice peeped through the phone again, "You don't have to talk to me… but please—" Kurt hiccupped, "—don't hang up."

Shoving his fingers into his hair, Blaine did as he was told and he laid his phone on his pillow. Kurt was quiet after that, and eventually Blaine could hear his soft breathing. Staring at his phone, Blaine watched the hours go by for the phone call. Kurt was right there, but Blaine didn't know what to say. He was scared so he didn't say a word.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have because when he woke up the call had ended, but he had a new text message from Kurt. He opened it and read, _Thank you._ After he clicked off the message and sat up, grabbing his babies to bathe them and get them ready for breakfast, it was like last night had never happened.

Like Kurt had never been there.


	78. Out of My League

Author's note: This is definitely a Blaine chapter... Kurt has a very short scene, but it's still important :) So, Blaine has a job now. That's what I'll be focusing on for the rest of his time in California, and Kurt will probably have some more scenes with Keegan and then more phone calls with Blaine. Thanks to my Beta for being fabulous... I ship you so hard. Hug? XD

deshaunwalker: Klaine is making more progress! Blaine says four words to Kurt in this one. I know the angst was bad, but I think it's mostly done now. The Warblers are some comic relief. Quinn isn't in here much, and Finn is totally gone, so yay!

* * *

Blaine dipped the spoon back into the bowl of applesauce, and he held it up to Archer's pudgy face. Archer's jaw swung open and he put the spoon on his tongue, waiting until he sucked it off to pull it out. A little bit splashed on his chin so Blaine quickly wiped it away. Hunter scooted across the table and held his mouth open, and Blaine let him take a bite of the applesauce. "Eat slower, Hunter," Blaine patted his back when he made a face and swallowed thickly. "Do you want another bite? I think Archer's full."

Hunter reached for the bowl and he stuck his tongue out. Feeding him another bite, Blaine hushed Archer when he cooed and batted at Hunter. "H-Hunner…" he babbled, patting Hunter's chin. Hunter babbled back at him and grabbed his cheeks. "Hunner."

"Shh…" Blaine tugged Hunter to his chest and rubbed both of their backs. "You're both my good babies."

Hunter struggled to climb back onto the table, so Blaine set him down and watched him crawl to the other end. "Come here, Hunter." Blaine reached out for him when he turned around and started heading back his way. "Do you want to go play?"

He grabbed Hunter and tucked him against his chest, getting to his feet. Before he moved an inch, Quinn walked through the door with a box in her hand. "Don't go anywhere. I need to talk to you." Setting the box on the table, she pointed at it, "You got a package today. I don't know from who… it's not like you talk to anyone."

Hunter grabbed at the box and stuck his mouth on the corner of it, drooling on it. Blaine pulled him off of it, "Don't bite the box. You'll hurt your mouth." Looking up at Blaine, Hunter stuck his bottom lip out, clearly disappointed by the discipline. Blaine kissed his forehead and looked back up at Quinn, "What do you want?"

Quinn crossed her arms and scuffed the floor with her shoe, "I want to know why we're living off your brother's money. I told you to get a job. Have you even started looking?"

Blaine patted Archer's back when he hiccupped, his wide eyes on Hunter who was still chewing on the edge of the box. Before he answered Quinn, Blaine pulled him off the box again and stroked his hair, "Shh… Hunter, I told you not to do that." He glanced at Quinn again, who looked frustrated, "Quinn, there are no jobs I could get that would pay for a house and food and the babies. I have no college degree and no experience."

"That's not my problem." Glaring at the floor when Pavarotti and Everett waddled in and chirped, Quinn snapped, "Just do something about this issue. I swore to myself I wouldn't marry a man who couldn't take care of me." Her eyes widened to the size of saucers when Pavarotti hopped onto Blaine's knee and playfully nibbled Hunter's elbow. "Fuck it, Blaine, sell those damned birds for money! They'll give diseases to the babies!" She snatched Pavarotti off of Blaine, causing both of the babies to scrunch their faces and start crying.

"Dammit, Quinn!" Blaine shouted, reaching for Pavarotti and taking the flapping bird from her. "Don't touch my birds again! Just get out!"

She clenched her fists, "Get a job by the end of the day or I won't be happy with you."

Blaine raised his brows at her, wondering how she could get any less happy with him than she already was. Putting his chin on his fist, Blaine muttered, "I'll look." He covered his face with his hand, blowing out heavily, "It's my birthday, Quinn."

She didn't say a word about that, "I'm going to the store with Beth. Get your shit together and spend time outside today. Not everybody wants to kill you, Blaine. It'll be good if you talk to people… you'll actually look like a normal person who doesn't have deranged outbursts. I'll tell you what, if you make at least five friends today you can buy yourself a birthday cake as a treat. Other than that, you need to be looking at jobs. I can't be married to someone lazy and antisocial… everyone will think I'm a joke and I don't want that." Whipping around, she strode out of the room, "Come here, Beth! Want to go to the store?"

He heard her open the door and walk outside, then shut it behind her. After the car drove away, Blaine sighed and put his babies on the table. He scrubbed his face and opened his eyes, seeing Hunter tugging at the box again. "Okay, okay, I'll open it. Do you have a thing for boxes?"

Tearing the tape off, Blaine unfolded the flaps and pulled out a letter and a tiny box. He watched Hunter boost himself inside of the box, and then he poked his nose above the edge, staring at Archer. Archer giggled and clapped his hands, and the two babies started pawing at each other. Grinning at his babies, Blaine grabbed the piece of paper and looked at it, startled at the handwriting. _My Blaine, this would have been your wedding ring from me. I love you so much. Happy birthday. Your Kurt._

With shaking hands, Blaine grabbed the tiny box and opened it, and inside was a cyan ring with golden letters engraved on it, _Blaine + Kurt,_ with a little heart and an arrow poking through the heart wrapped around the letters. Blaine swallowed and pulled the ring from the box, curiously slipping it onto his ring finger. "This feels so right." He whispered, rubbing the engraving.

Blaine looked up when he heard the phone ring, and he quickly got to his feet and grabbed it. He held it up to his ear, "Hello?"

"Hey, kid." came Burt's gruff voice, "Happy twentieth. How are things in California? I bet the weather and the ocean are great there."

Blaine smiled, leaning against the wall, "I don't know… I've been keeping the babies inside. Hunter likes exploring, but Archer stays put and he doesn't like the sand or water."

"Sounds like Kurt," Burt laughed. "Carole says happy birthday, too. She's listening to us." He cleared his throat, "So, how have you been? Have you made friends? Do you like it there? I know Quinn was pretty determined about you getting a job."

Blaine hesitated, looking down at the floor. He glanced up at the babies when Hunter started crawling in the box and scooting it around the table. "I… don't have friends or a job. I don't mind being by myself. She wants me to look for a job today… but I don't have the qualifications for anything."

"What about those guys you met back in New York?" Burt grunted as he tried to remember something, "Didn't they say they were headed out to California? Man, Kurt told me all about them… What was their name?"

"The Warblers." Blaine put in for him. "I don't know, Burt."

"You were happy there, Blaine." Burt said as if it should have been obvious, "Kurt said you were. He said you didn't say much but you smiled and with you that's pretty damned happy. I know you're nervous and confused… and I'm sure singing brings up a lot of bad memories for you… considering Kurt—" he immediately stopped talking. "Never mind that. Blaine, those guys treated you right, and not a lot of people do. They don't understand you. I want you to give it a try. I can't make you… but I want you to."

Blaine closed his eyes, then opened them again when he heard the box moving around. He looked over at his babies, and Hunter was spilled out of the box that was on its side now. It fell over on top of him, and he was trapped underneath. It didn't seem to bother him because he started crawling again, pushing the box around with him. Archer stared at the box as if he was completely fascinated. "What if things go wrong?" He asked Burt.

"Then things go wrong." Burt said flatly, "Blaine, you worry too much. But it's no big deal… so what if one person doesn't want you working for them? But they're going to let you get a job there. You're too good of a singer to say no to. Listen, Blaine, I've got to go… I've got a car to work on. But you get up the courage to head down there and talk to those guys. I love you."

"I love you, too." He whispered, clicking the call off. Peeling off the wall, Blaine walked over to the babies and lifted Hunter's box. He looked up at him with big, brown eyes. "Do you think I'm good enough?"

Hunter grinned, and Archer batted at him. "Ba-ba."

Gathering up his babies, Blaine carried them out of the kitchen and found their baby carrier. He took their teddy bear out of it and laid them down, then handed it to Archer when he grabbed at it. Hunter snuggled into Archer and batted at the teddy bear. "Arch…" he cooed, nuzzling Archer's face, "Arch."

Blaine hung the baby carrier off his arm and felt his little birds climbing his pant leg. He looked down at them and stood still until they got to his shoulder, then he blew out heavily and walked out the door. "Okay… where is that recording studio?"

He opened the back door of his car and set the babies inside, strapping them down to the seat. Getting in front, Blaine pulled out of his driveway and drove into the city. When he got deep enough into the city, Blaine stopped near a popular area where many of the big named stores were and he got out. After taking his babies out of the backseat, Blaine searched the area for the recording studio. He didn't know what he was doing or thinking, but he wanted to trust Burt. He'd never done him wrong.

He walked about a block before he came across a towering building with posters of pop stars on it. Blowing out heavily, Blaine tightened his grip on the baby carrier and strode up to the building. He walked inside and was instantly greeted by a few guys he didn't know, each of them bickering over whether Britney Spears or Katy Perry was better.

Pressing his lips together, Blaine kept going and eventually found the front desk, seeing another man he didn't know. The man looked up at him and tilted his head, "Can I help you?"

Blaine didn't know what to say, "A-Are… the Warblers here?"

"If by Warbler you mean the recording company and not the bird…" he looked at the little birds on Blaine's shoulder, "then yes. Do you need something?"

"Blaine Anderson?" Someone else said, and Blaine whipped around. He spotted Wes walking out of another hallway, and he uncomfortably cleared his throat. "You have to be kidding. It's so good to see you! Come over here." Waving at the man behind the desk, Wes winked, "I've got this one."

Blaine hesitantly walked up to Wes, as if he was a small child about to be scolded. "Wes." He said.

Wes suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, "How have you been? What are you doing here?" He looked at the little babies in the carrier and raised his brows, "Little ones?"

"Oh, no…" Blaine shook his head, wincing when Wes leaned down and rubbed Archer's belly. "They're my brother's and my friend's. I'm just watching them."

"They're great, Blaine." Standing upright again, Wes smiled wider, "And you got another warbler! I've missed your little bird." He grabbed Blaine's arm, "You have to come back and see the guys. We all pretty much stay together now. We had to hire a lot more people after expanding and we're still getting used to each other… we've sort of formed cliques."

"Oh." Blaine quietly followed Wes back into a recording room where a group of guys were hanging out on a circle of chairs, most of them with their feet kicked up and their heads leaned back. Blaine recognized almost the entire group, Jeff sitting on Nick's lap, and Trent and a new guy in the corner, throwing handfuls of popcorn at each other and noisily snorting. The only one who was missing from the group was David.

All of them looked up at the sight of Blaine, and Jeff was the first one to speak up, "Hey, it's Blaine!"

Trent followed his eyes and grinned at Blaine, "What's up, Blaine? Long time, no speak… like, at all. Where'd you disappear to?"

"Are those babies?" Nick stared at the carrier hanging off of Blaine's arm. "I want to hold one!" Pushing Jeff off his lap, Nick scrambled over to Blaine and looked between the babies. He picked Archer from the two of them and lifted him, "Look, I have a baby!"

"Oh, shut up, you dimwits." Wes waved them off, "He hasn't said three words since he's been here. Want to sit down?" Offering Blaine another seat, Wes pressed himself against the wall and gestured at the dark haired boy who Blaine didn't recognize. "This is Thad. He was off in Florida when you showed up last time. Thad, this is Blaine, a really good friend of ours."

Thad waved at him, but was interrupted when Nick spoke up again, "Yeah, and David's gone right now. He was on the phone with his girlfriend all last night so he's sleeping today."

"Apparently they had another falling out." Trent rolled his eyes, "She went to some party with her best friend and made out with another guy."

"Oh." Blaine said again, unsure if he should say anything else based on their guy code.

Wes focused on Blaine again, "So what are you doing here? I mean… in California and here? What happened to you being stuck in Ohio?"

Blaine closed his eyes, "I just couldn't stay in Ohio anymore. I don't want to talk about it." He opened his eyes again, crossing his arms, "I want to know if there are any jobs I could do here."

"Sure." Wes shrugged his shoulders, almost too simply, "Like I said last time, we always need someone to manage us. I would… I love being in charge… but those idiots—" he glared at the entire group of boys, "—have absolutely no respect for a true leader."

"You could just tell us what stars to highlight in the media." Trent put in, "And you could tell them what songs to sing. You know… be a producer or something."

"I don't have the qualification." Blaine quickly said, "Can I do something else? Something… out of the way?"

Nick curled his lip, "You mean a… janitor?"

"No." Wes held up his hand, "You'll do fine being in charge. It's settled, you can do that. And what about your singing? We could give you a few songs to sing and make you big."

"No," Blaine shook his head, his nails curling into his palm. He started to dig in. "I don't want to sing."

Wes tilted his head, but Trent said, "Still got stage fright?"

"Shut up, Trent." Wes snapped, then nodded his head, "Okay… but I want you to think about it. You are good, Blaine." Crossing and uncrossing his arms, Wes muttered, "We're about done here today but do you want to come in tomorrow morning at eight? We have to think about who the next big thing will be and how we can improve our promotions. Any preferences on stars, Blaine?"

Blaine looked up, surprised that he was getting thrown into work so quickly. He rubbed the nape of his neck, "Kurt." He whispered, "He's talented."

"Okay," Wes turned away and started walking out of the room, "Guys, get me every musical performance you can find by Kurt. Discuss ways we can promote him… probably through his fashion or voice. Blaine, come with me."

Blaine took Archer back from Nick and hurried after Wes, who suddenly stopped and whipped around. He raised his brows at Blaine, "You're not in Ohio anymore." was the only thing he said, and he smiled at Blaine. He turned around again and walked away, greeting someone who was just coming in.

Staying behind, Blaine glanced at the room around him. Pictures of birds still decorated the inside, and the room was still just as cozy despite how spacious it was. He felt comfortable here… like he didn't have to worry about not being safe or judged. He sat down on one of the couches and not a single person noticed him or glared at him.

He started rubbing his wedding ring again. He felt somehow fine.

* * *

Kurt slipped under his blankets and he pulled them up to his chin, his head falling to the pillow. He reached for his phone and dialed a very familiar number, and within seconds there was a click. Blaine didn't say anything, but Kurt didn't mind. He was just happy he answered. "Blaine… happy birthday." He whispered into the phone, hearing a little chirp from the other side.

Blaine said absolutely nothing, so Kurt continued, "Can you keep your phone on tonight?" There was no answer, but Kurt expected that he would again. "I love you." He kissed the phone and laid it down on his pillow, curling up in a tiny ball.

It took several minutes of listening to babies cooing and birds chirping, but he finally heard that one voice he hadn't heard for months. "I love you, too."

Kurt smiled, "Blaine…"


	79. New for You

Author's note: Hi, guys :) So, Klaine has an actual conversation in this one, which is pretty cool. I think Blaine says more than ten words XD But, yeah... this chapter kind of explains itself. The Warblers. Let me just take a minute to express my adoration of those boys. I love them so much. "You mock us, sir!" They're just... perfect.

deshaunwalker: There's more progress in this one :) They're getting there. I don't think there will be anymore Klaingst. I know Blaine will have some trouble with someone who isn't Kurt coming up, but yeah Kurt and Blaine are fine now.

kirabocaro: Aww I just love you and your reviews! Thank you for staying with this story! :D Your review just made me have all kinds of feels. Kurt won't be getting hurt anymore, and Blaine's in a safe place :) Thank you so so so much for being brilliant and fabulous :D

P.S. I suggest everyone look up AtemYamiLover on deviantart. He or she makes wonderful Klaine chibis. They're so cute.

* * *

Blaine walked into the recording studio a few minutes before eight, the baby carrier swinging off his arm and his little birds clinging to his shoulder. He headed down the hallway Wes had taken him the day before, and he stopped by the door he'd been in yesterday. He heard people bickering and then a shout as something made a loud crashing sound. His eyes widened and he hesitantly opened the door, finding Trent and Thad in a pile on the floor. As usual, Jeff was on Nick's lap, and Nick was stroking his blond hair. Wes was at the computer, getting actual work done.

"Hey, Blaine!" Trent said from the floor, shoving Thad off of him.

"So, the idiots didn't scare you off." Wes typed something into the computer, then he spun around in his chair and raised his brows at Blaine. "Welcome to your first day of work. You can sit down at the computer. I have to go get something." He glared at the group of guys, stepping over the two on the floor. "Guys… do something with yourselves."

"I'm hungry." Nick commented.

"And I still don't care." Stepping out of the room, Wes walked away, ignoring their pleas for fast food.

Blaine walked past the guys wrestling on the floor, and he sat down by the computer. Glancing at the screen, he saw that videos of Beauty and the Beast rehearsals were up. The video was paused on a fake castle, obviously a piece of scenery. Nick shoved Jeff off his lap and hurried over to Blaine, startling him. "Can I hold one of the babies again?"

Nodding, Blaine set the baby carrier on the desk. Nick picked Hunter this time, and he held him against his chest. "What are their names?"

"This is Archer." Blaine stroked Archer's dark curls off his forehead, "And you have Hunter."

Nick looked at Hunter's face, "Hi there! Want to hang out with Uncle Nick?" Walking away with the baby, Nick sat down on the chair, and Jeff sat back down on his knee.

Wes returned to the room with a pile of papers, "I just got off the phone with Katy Perry's manager. He said she was available in about three weeks. Trent, Thad, get up. You guys are pathetic."

"You mock us, sir!" Thad shouted, startling Blaine, and Wes rolled his eyes.

"I'm still hungry." Nick said again.

Groaning from his throat, Wes rubbed his face, "Fine, you guys can go get food. But be quick about it."

"Yay, fast food!" Scrambling to his feet, Nick hurried to the door and bounced on his toes. Jeff was right on his heels. "Blaine, can I take the baby with me? He's so cute!"

Blaine swallowed thickly, then he handed Archer over to Jeff. "Take Archer, too. They don't like being separated. Be careful with them."

The guys hurried out of the room and Wes shook his head after them, "Do you want to go with them? They're so gross to eat with. They throw more food than they eat."

"No… thank you." Blaine shook his head, slouching in the chair.

Wes pulled up a chair beside of Blaine and reached for the computer mouse, clicking on one of the videos and pulling it up. "Take a look at what we've got. The guys found these. It's impossible to understand because everyone's speaking in French but Kurt's talent is obvious. Good on you to pick him."

He played one of the videos and the camera stayed on the fake castle, then a boy in a yellow dress tiptoed onto the stage. He was saying something that Blaine couldn't understand, then he whirled around and Blaine saw Kurt's face. Kurt spun in a circle and his dress whipped around his long legs. Suddenly, another man walked onto the stage, and Blaine stiffened as he recognized him from the magazine. "Fuck," he whispered, digging his fingernails into his palms.

The man swished over to Kurt, grabbing his wrist and lifting their hands. Kurt shimmied his hips and spun around the man, his movements so graceful and light. Grabbing Kurt's hips, the man lifted him above his head, and Kurt spread his legs and leaned back. The man let him slide back onto his feet.

Kurt padded away from the man, and the man followed him. Blaine saw his lips move, just a quiet whisper that not even the camera caught, and Kurt seemed physically bothered by whatever he said. His nose scrunched and he turned his head, pulling from the man when he reached for his skirt.

The music suddenly cut and the director yelled something that Blaine couldn't understand, and Kurt immediately started walking backstage. Wes paused the video, "Huh… that must be it for that video—"

"No, wait." Blaine shook his head, "Keep playing it."

Wes looked doubtful at Blaine, but he did as he was told and kept the video going. Blaine watched the man keep on Kurt's heels, saying something to him. Kurt looked extremely annoyed, saying absolutely nothing to the man. Kurt knelt by his dance bag and reached for his shoes, finally opening his mouth and saying something that Blaine couldn't hear.

That seemed to throw the man off because he made a face and stepped closer to Kurt. Kurt quickly put distance between himself and the man, then he stood and walked out of the area the camera could see. The man followed Kurt again, disappearing behind the curtains.

The video ended a few seconds after that, and Blaine's mouth fell open. He didn't know what to think about that. Before he really had a chance to consider what he'd just watched, the door opened again and the guys stampeded in, noisily chatting. Nick set a bag down in front of Blaine, "Hey, we brought you food."

Blaine looked up at him and saw that he had Archer in his arms, holding a small ice cream cone up to his face. Archer stuck his tongue out and licked it, then made a face when he found out how cold it was. Jeff walked up to Nick, Hunter in his arms, and Hunter started licking the ice cream cone that was in Nick's hand. "I don't think Archer likes ice cream." He laughed, handing Archer to Blaine.

"How is it going?" Jeff asked, looking at the video Wes had up. "Who is the guy with Kurt in that one? Kurt looked really mad at him."

"That's Brody Weston." Thad put in, "Everyone knows who he is. They think he's an arrogant asshole. I'm sure Blaine knows… has Kurt told you about him? He sleeps with a lot of guys. It was rumored for a while that he and Kurt were a thing, but the picture was totally out of context and Kurt actually went to his hotel room and yelled at him. They didn't know about what… but Kurt seemed pissed about whatever it was. Blaine, do you know anything about that?"

Blaine ignored his question, "They were never together." He repeated quietly, his heart pounding faster than it should have.

"Yeah, you of all people should know that." Trent looked at him as if it should have been obvious. "Yeah… I think Brody wanted to, but Kurt kept turning him down. Kurt was really upset about him coming onto him all the time. I think it's because he's engaged to this guy." He patted Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine looked away from the screen, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip. "Blaine?" Wes leaned closer to Blaine. "Are you okay? You look pale."

Blaine shook his head, "I'm not okay." Getting to his feet, Blaine staggered out of the room, "I need to use the bathroom. My stomach hurts." He shuffled down the hallway with the guys' eyes on his back, but he ignored them. He locked himself into the closest bathroom and looked in the mirror. His face was green and his mouth was hanging open. "He wasn't with another man." He whispered, his voice sharp.

He should have been relieved about that—and he was—but he realized what a horrible mistake he'd made. Santana was right… this came around to bite him in the ass hard.

* * *

Kurt lifted his head from Keegan's lap when he heard his phone ring, and he sighed and stretched. Reaching for his noisy phone, Kurt sat up and felt Keegan shift underneath him. He held the phone up to his ear, "Hello?"

"Hey, kiddo." Burt said, a smile in his voice, "I have great news."

"Oh, tell me!" He peeped, scrambling onto his knees. His sudden movement knocked Keegan over, and he almost fell off of Kurt's bed. He paused the movie they were watching and stared at Kurt, obviously wondering what was going on. "I love great news. It always makes me happy."

"Carole and I just settled on a wedding date." His voice got very small. "Just a few weeks before your birthday. I know you said you wanted to stay in France for a whole year, but, honey, I want to marry this woman now. And you can be in charge of everything with my wedding. I'm going to have Finn walk you down the aisle before Carole, and you can toss flowers… I know the flowers are some of your favorite parts of weddings. Then you can stand by me and watch your old man get married."

"Oh, Dad!" Kurt flailed so much that he nearly fell off his bed, too, so Keegan quickly grabbed him. "Dad, I'm so happy for you! Oh, I knew this would make me happy! But that only gives me…" he counted down on his fingers, "about three months to plan this. I'll need to work on invitations and I'll have to know who's coming and you'll need a best man and a tuxedo and we have to have a location and a band and who is going to blow up a hundred balloons and feed the doves glitter—?"

"What doves?" Burt scoffed into the phone. "Wait, Kurt, slow down. You're talking too fast… you always do when you get excited. Look… I don't care about anything except that you're there and there's good food. Just make me a good wedding, Mr. Wedding Planner."

"You won't be disappointed." Kurt smiled, "But start taking dance lessons! I don't want you to fall like you did at my fifth birthday."

"Oh, come on." Burt groaned, "How do you remember things like that?" Sighing heavily, Burt muttered, "Fine. Kurt, make sure you let your aunt know… in case she wants to come. I know she doesn't know English but still ask her. And whoever you want to invite… I don't mind. Oh, and… can you talk to Blaine about standing with me? He won't be best man… that's you… but I want him up there. I tried calling him to ask but he's not answering his phone."

"Of course I will." Kurt said after a moment, anxiously thinking about having an actual conversation with Blaine. "Dad, you'll have the best wedding of the year. It'll be even better than when Katy Perry married Russell Brand."

"Whatever you say, kiddo." Burt laughed, "I love you, honey. Good luck on your wedding endeavors."

"I love you, too!" He peeped, clicking the call off. "Oh, Keegan, my dad is getting married in May! I'm so excited. It'll be right before my birthday. You must come with me."

Keegan looked startled by the offer, "To America? Kurt, I don't know English. And where would I stay?"

"You could stay with my family." Kurt suggested, "Oh, please, Keegan. I would love if you came. My aunt will definitely come… and you should, too. At least help me plan it."

Keegan smiled at him, "Whatever you want. What do you want me to do?"

"We need to go to the store and pick up paper for the invitations, balloons, glitter, and doves." Kurt got to his feet and went to his closet, pulling open the doors.

"You know, I'm not going to ask about why we're getting those things." Keegan snorted. "I'll just get more confused. I'll be right back… I have to drive to my house to change clothes. See you in about ten minutes!" Leaving Kurt's bedroom, Keegan walked out and Kurt eventually heard the door shut.

Sighing, Kurt picked a casual dress with a bow on the back, and he slipped out of his pajamas. He turned and looked at his phone, then walked over to it and picked it up. "Please, talk to me." He whispered, dialing Blaine's number.

* * *

Blaine woke up to his phone buzzing against his thigh, and he jerked up. He was startled to find himself back in the recording room, sitting in front of the computer. Videos of Kurt singing and dancing on stage were still playing, so he figured he must have fallen asleep watching them. He left them on and grabbed his phone, "Hello?"

"Blaine?" Kurt's soft voice chimed through the phone. "My dad just called me. He has a date set for his wedding."

Blaine furrowed his brows, "When is it?"

"A few weeks before my birthday." Kurt swallowed thickly, then he whispered, "He—I mean… we—would like you to be there. Will you go to it?"

Blaine hesitated, running his fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't." was the only thing he said about it. "Kurt… I shouldn't. Tell your dad congratulations for me—"

"Blaine…" Kurt sighed, "please don't hide from us. I know things have happened, but this is your family. It'll mean everything to my dad." Kurt paused for a moment, as if waiting for Blaine to say something, but he didn't so Kurt continued, "Come for me. Blaine, I know you love me… I know you'll do anything for me. We have things we need to talk about… so please come for me. I'll give you a dance if you do, and I know you want that."

Blaine said absolutely nothing about that, even though it was a tempting offer. "Will you be there?"

"Of course I will." It sounded like Kurt was smiling. "Keegan and I are leaving to buy doves and glitter. You know how I love when they release birds at weddings… but it's messy so I don't understand why people don't feed them glitter."

To Blaine's surprise, he started laughing, but he still didn't say anything. Kurt's voice got very soft again, "I love you, Blaine. Please come for me. I don't care about what you've done… I'm desperate to see you. I'll beg."

Blaine was alarmed by the lack of resentment in Kurt's voice, "Kurt, don't beg for me—"

"I love you." Kurt insisted.

Blaine swallowed thickly, realizing he was going to lose, "I love you, too."

Kurt's voice was cheerful again, "Come for me." He clicked the call off and Blaine blew out heavily, sinking into his chair. He slammed his head against the table and felt the tears swell in his eyes.

"I want to come for you," Blaine whispered to no one in particular, "but you don't know all of the horrible things I've done."


	80. Beautiful

Author's note: Hi, guys! I actually kind of like this chapter so I hope you guys do, too. It has a lot of Kurt in it, and he's shopping, which is really fun to write. I don't have much else to say except the wedding is coming soon... I don't know how many more chapters it will be until Kurt goes home, but it will happen eventually. So, yeah, that's about it. I want to give you guys spoilers but I don't even know where I'm going with my next chapter. Probably more wedding planning... maybe a Klaine phone call. Maybe they'll Skype :)

P.S. Today is my one year anniversary on FanFiction and in four days it'll be my one year anniversary for Out! :D

deshaunwalker: Aww I love Keegie :) He's so nice and in my head he's pretty cute XD You'll have to wait and see about Burt's wedding... Blaine might not even go back to Ohio... *cue scary music* :P

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: :O Now I want to make the wedding on your birthday! I was really shocked when they started talking again... I was like is this really happening?! I can't even believe it. That means this story is almost over :O Yeah... I stopped watching Glee like two months ago but I heard there was a school shooting and I wasn't even surprised. I wouldn't have been shocked if RIB had killed off every single character, even though Kurt and Rachel are in New York... they would have found a way to kill them, too -.- Woooo logic of RIB. But... anyway... I don't want to start complaining about Glee because I could go on for hours, but yay McFly! That's so exciting! I just found out that Wicked is going to be touring in my town so maybe they'll go near you and you can see them perform, too :D They're performing right over my birthday so I'm hoping for a special birthday present :D

* * *

Kurt zipped up the back of his dress and let the zipper go, putting his hands on his stomach. He admired himself in the long mirror, and turned this way and that to get a full view of the way the dress hugged his hips and stomach, outlining them against the thin fabric, and how round his butt looked. The dress was a light brown that wrinkled at his hip bones and his sides and squeezed everything else, making him look absolutely amazing. He loved the way his eyes glowed, contrasting the dark color. He did a little spin and giggled, gasping when he stumbled on his high heels and almost fell out of the dressing room.

"Oh!" He straightened himself out immediately, pushing aside the curtain and smiling at Keegan, who was waiting on the other side. "What do you think of this one? I like the color and what it does for my hips. See?" He turned in a circle, and when he got back around to Keegan, he saw that he was grinning.

"It looks really good, Kurt." Sitting down on a bench, Keegan pulled Kurt closer and grabbed the tag hanging off the end of the dress. "But it's eight hundred dollars."

"Oh, but I must have it!" Kurt hopped up and down, rushing back over to a mirror. "I love this one, Keegan. I promise I won't buy anything for the next five months. It's so pretty!"

"Yeah." Keegan rolled his eyes, "Like you could go a _week_ without shopping. You're so expensive. Whatever… let me buy it for you."

"Keegan!" Kurt widened his eyes, spinning back around and covering his mouth with his hands. "You can't. I'd feel terrible. I have money from my photo shoots."

"I have money, too." Keegan insisted and fished his wallet out. "I can't even remember what I was saving it for. Come on, you're my best friend and your aunt is buying my ticket to America. Let me get this for you."

"Thank you!" Kurt squeaked, bouncing on his toes again. He started to tumble when he lost his balance, but he caught himself against a wall. "You're the best friend I could have ever asked for. Let me have a few more minutes to look at it. Isn't it pretty?" Whirling back around, Kurt kicked up one of his heels and did a little dance in front of the mirror. "I want to show it to Blaine. He'll think it's so pretty, won't he?"

Keegan raised his brows at that, and Kurt quickly realized what he said. Touching his fingertips to his lips, he blushed bright red and tapped the floor with his shoe. "Oh… um…" Suddenly distracted by something in the mirror, Kurt spun around and looked at a collection of dresses across the room. "Oh… so beautiful."

He walked up to a bunch of wedding dresses hanging up, and he touched one of the glitteriest ones. "Mm… these are gorgeous." Pulling the glittery one from its hanger, Kurt held it up to his body. "I've always wanted to wear one of these. Look as sparkly as a diamond."

Keegan frowned, following Kurt with his eyes as he returned to his mirror, still holding the dress up. "Kurt—"

"I can just see it." He whispered, his voice much sadder as he brushed his hand over the glittery bodice. "A sparkly wedding… with diamonds everywhere. And everyone would look amazing, so dressed up. And he would be standing there… so handsome… smiling at me… and he'd say that I'm the most beautiful thing in the room. He wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of me. And I would know how beautiful I am to him… dancing in a glittery dress with him—" It was obvious that Kurt started daydreaming, his blue eyes glazing over and a small smile playing at his pink lips. His dimples were popped and he looked happy, but then he remembered where he was and his eyes opened wide. "Oh, I must be babbling!"

"I don't mind." Keegan shrugged, and he really didn't. "Just don't upset yourself."

Kurt sniffed, walking back over to the dresses. "I'm fine. I really am. I know it's time for me to try to be happy again, and I am happy. There are many things to be happy about… like my dad's wedding… and that couple in that movie we watched last night stayed together… and there were plenty of people holding hands on the street today—" It seemed he was trying to convince himself and his eyes filled with sudden tears, startling Keegan. "I don't want to cry on this dress because it's so pretty!"

"Kurt…" Keegan swung his leg over the bench and he strode up to Kurt, taking his tiny body against his chest. "Kurt, come on. You don't have to cry. I know you're sad."

Clinging to the dress, Kurt whimpered, "I'm not going to h-have a wedding and I've always wanted one."

Keegan rubbed his back, gently tugging the glittery dress from Kurt's grip. "You're too pretty to stay alone, Kurt. You're going to have a wedding."

"I don't want a wedding with anyone but Blaine." He sobbed into Keegan's chest, "He promised he would marry me… and I want to marry him!"

"I know." He wiped Kurt's small face with his sleeve, watching him stick his bottom lip out. Anything less than a smile from Kurt was a bad day for him, so Keegan felt terrible for him. "Hey… you want this dress, too?" Holding up the wedding dress, Keegan grinned. "It's the most sparkly wedding dress I've ever seen. I'll get it for you."

Kurt rubbed his weepy eyes, his sniffling becoming less noisy. "Where would I wear it?"

"I don't know." Keegan looked at the dress, "Think of it like ice cream… your comfort food. This can be your comfort dress. Do you want it?"

"Mm hm." Kurt lifted his head from Keegan's chest, distracted momentarily from his heartbreak by the pretty dress. "You're so nice to me."

Keegan laughed at that, wrapping his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "You're my best friend, Kurt. Niceness kind of comes with friendship." Following Kurt's wandering eyes to a table of shoes, Keegan grabbed his chin and turned his head, "No, look at me. Not at the shoes. I swear, if you buy one more thing you're going to ruin my wallet—"

"But they're so pretty! Look at the ones with the flowers! I have to have them!" Pulling away from Keegan, Kurt ran over to the shoes and hopped up and down.

Keegan looked at his watch, "Well, you lasted about ten minutes. What was this about five months?"

* * *

Blaine pressed himself against the wall, staring at the tips of his shoes as they were nearly stomped on. Chaos was all around him, the guys fighting over food Nick had brought with him. Blaine didn't want to get involved. He was hungry, but he wasn't in the mood to wrestle and hit. Dragging his hand through his hair, Blaine looked up when Wes returned to restore order. "Come on, guys. Enough. You bunch of idiots. We have to go down to the other recording studio in a minute… we have that new boy band coming."

"They stole my food!" Nick shouted, slapping Thad on the back of the head. "You owe me fries the next time we go to get fast food."

Thad stuck his tongue out, and Blaine grimaced as he saw his chewed up food. Turning his head, Blaine sat down at the computer and reached for the baby carrier. He gently rocked his sleeping babies, both of them curled around each other and ignoring the noisy boys. He opened his mouth as he carefully rubbed Archer's little belly, and the tiny baby mewled and raised his fists, batting at Blaine. "Hush, little baby…" he hummed quietly to him, lulling him back into his sleep, "don't say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

Archer cooed and he rubbed his closed eyes, drifting in and out of his sleepy daze. "And if that mockingbird won't sing, Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring—" He stopped singing when the room got suddenly quiet, and he looked up. Flushing bright red when he realized all of the guys were staring at him, Blaine huddled into himself and crossed his legs. He pressed his knuckles to his lips, rubbing them until they were sore as if to punish them for embarrassing him.

"Wow, Blaine." Trent sat down in one of the chairs, his eyes wide. "You're still really good. Why don't you let us record you?"

"Yeah, Blaine." Jeff gave him an encouraging smile. "We like your voice! You sounded so raw."

Blaine wanted to vanish or run out of the room. Swallowing thickly, he muttered, "It was just a lullaby."

"And that's why I think it was so good." Wes said to him, "You were in your comfort place right then, singing to your baby. Just like you were comfortable when you were singing with Kurt. I've watched your performances… I've looked up videos of you, especially from that Nationals competition."

Blaine winced at the reminder of that awful night.

"I think I know what your problem is, why you clamped up." Wes continued, peeling off the wall. "You don't like seeing people judge you… and not being able to do anything about it. You either want to lash out or run away. And when you're on stage like that… so exposed… you panic because you don't know what they're saying because they're not saying it to your face, and you can't do a thing about it. With those babies… and with Kurt… you knew you weren't being judged. They love you and your voice, and you know it."

"I don't understand." Blaine muttered, even though he really did.

Jeff put in, "What Wes is saying is that you need to understand how good you are first, and then you'll have the confidence to know that other people think you're good, too. The only person who thinks you're bad is you, when you're actually very talented."

Blaine closed his eyes, thinking of all the times Karofsky pushed him down, made fun of him, called him a name—_faggot._ "I'm not the only one who thinks I'm bad." He assured them, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

Thad tilted his head sympathetically, "You're good, Blaine. Forget about anyone who's told you different. They're just jealous because they don't have what you have… a pair of damned good lungs. Who would you rather listen to, someone who's just jealous of you or a roomful of guys who love your voice? Including those babies. And Kurt… but he's not here."

Blaine looked over at Hunter when his brown eyes popped open as if he'd been called, and he picked him up from his carrier. "Shh… come here, sweetheart." Resting him against his shoulder, Blaine patted his back and felt him yawn, rubbing his big eyes and burrowing into Blaine's chest.

"Da-da…" he gurgled, biting on one of Blaine's buttons on his shirt and chewing it. "Da-da."

Blaine closed his eyes and kissed Hunter's forehead, "Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Daddy's gonna give you all his heart." He cradled the little baby and felt the guys' eyes on him, but he ignored them. He was confused, and he needed to hang onto something he knew for sure. And Hunter was something he knew for sure… his little baby who loved him and his voice.

* * *

Kurt checked the next name on the list and he scribbled it down on a glittery piece of paper with ribbons tied on it, feeling a deep yawn coming from his throat. His chin bobbed and his penmanship got a little sloppier, so he closed his eyes for a moment. Beside him, he heard Keegan chuckle, "Kurt, you spelled _wedding_ wrong."

He opened his eyes and rubbed them, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just a little sleepy. I want to get these invitations done tonight, and then I have to look at cake designs—"

"Kurt, calm down." Keegan grabbed Kurt's hand and pried the pen from it, which wasn't that hard. Kurt's hand relaxed almost instantly and he started tipping over, falling on Keegan's shoulder. "We have another two and a half months to plan this. You'll exhaust yourself if you keep going at this rate."

Kurt blindly grabbed for his pen, "Oh, but I have to get the invitations done tonight—_Keegan!_"

Keegan stood up, making Kurt fall onto the couch. He curled into a tiny ball and kept grabbing for his pen, limply going with Keegan when he lifted him from the couch. "No. That's enough for tonight. Why are you so concerned about this? It'll be fine whether you put yourself in overdrive or not."

Kurt snuggled into Keegan's chest, "But I want my dad to have the perfect wedding. He deserves it… everyone does. And I-I want—" he stopped talking and yawned again, then didn't say another word.

Keegan carried him up the stairs and into his bedroom, laying him on his bed. He saw Kurt's phone beeping on his dresser, so he picked it up. "Kurt, you have a new text."

Kurt rolled onto his stomach and squished his face to the pillow, "Who's from?" was the only thing he got out.

Opening the text, Keegan said, "It's from Blaine. He said goodnight… and that he loves you."

A little smile curved Kurt's lips, and he sighed and hugged his pillow. His blond lashes quivered on his cheeks, and they didn't lift again. "Blaine…" he whimpered after he'd fallen completely asleep.


	81. Mirrors

Author's note: Hi, guys. I'm really sorry about the delay! I've had so many tests and then I had to renew my learner's permit which was just ugh -.- but I've been up all morning editing this and trying to fix any errors, so if it sounds kind of bad I'm sorry. I'm not sure if I like it... I was going to go a completely different route and write another chapter of the Warblers or Klaine Skyping, but that kind of didn't work out. So, instead, they're going back to Ohio now. I know Blaine's part is kind of vague near the end, but all of that will be explained in the next chapter. I can't give any spoilers without giving everything away, but I can honestly say that I'm probably about fifteen to twenty chapters away from finishing this, which is a BIG deal :D I have college visit either tomorrow or Saturday, but I'll try to update anyway.

deshaunwalker: Oh gosh, you have nothing to worry about with Keegan. I had no idea he was even coming across that way. I love Keegie and he's just like a big brother to Kurt... and I know Blaine and Finn were like brothers, but this is different! Yeah, Everett is his only love, which I find super romantic :D

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I'm making this into a trilogy so this story is going to end soon but I'll be posting the sequel right after I finish it :D Oh my gosh I need to buy my tickets now then because I really want to go and don't want it to be sold out :(

kathrynevie21: Aww I just love your review! Thank you so much! I adore the Warblers... they're so much fun to write! And Keegan is just perfect to me. He's all kinds of beautiful :D

* * *

Kurt pulled his shirts from the hangers in his closet and laid them down on his bed, where Keegan was sitting. Keegan unzipped his suitcase and Kurt laid the clothes inside, then he returned to his closet to work on his many dresses. Kicking his feet up on Kurt's stripped bed, Keegan said, "So, tell me about your dad. You know, your family. What am I getting myself into? And tell me why you love Ohio so much."

Smiling, Kurt sat down on his bed and carefully folded his dresses, laying them on top of his shirts. "My dad is still the same… even after all these years. He likes football… he will be your best friend if you talk to him about it. Hm…" He tapped his chin, "Carole is the sweetest. At first I wasn't sure about her but we get along so well. She likes when you compliment her cooking. Finn… my brother… is so nice to me. He plays video games all the time."

"Video games?" Keegan arched his brows, just as clueless at the concept as Kurt was.

Kurt laughed, "Yes, they're fun! You play a game on the TV! I got to play a princess and race my brother and Blaine." Crossing his legs, Kurt distracted himself from his packing and murmured, "Let's see… I have two, little birds who are my sweet princes. They love to be held and kissed. And then there are the babies… and they should be walking now. Oh, they've probably started talking!"

"And what about Blaine?" Keegan muttered. "You know, I think I've got this guy from what you've said about him, but I'm still kind of clueless. He sounds like he has a million different personalities. Will he be patient with my English?"

"Of course." Kurt nodded, nervously curling his toes as he tried to describe Blaine, which was pretty impossible. "Blaine was very patient with my English… he always helped me with words. He's kind… so please don't think of him as cold or indifferent." When Keegan furrowed his brows, Kurt mumbled, "Sometimes people get upset with him because he doesn't say much… but he's just quiet. It's hard for him to get to know people." He twitched as the memories of Blaine going off in the middle of the night and then ending up in hospitals hit him very hard, so before he could tear up he managed to change the subject. Keegan didn't bother saying anything about that… he seemed to understand. "Besides, you might not even see Blaine. I don't know if he's coming."

Keegan still didn't say anything, and when Kurt looked up at him he saw that his jaw was hard and his lips were pursed into a white line. He swallowed thickly and rubbed the top of his head, messing up his thick, blond hair. "I get it," he suddenly muttered, still staring at his lap. "I get Blaine. I saw two minutes of that Karofsky guy and he destroyed everything I had… how is it possible to live for years with that guy sucking the life out of you? How did he live through that? He shouldn't have. I know I wouldn't have. If I was in his place… and that guy didn't kill me first… I would have killed myself."

"Please don't talk like that." Kurt whispered, his eyes full of tears despite his want to not cry, "Keegan, I don't like to think about Blaine suffering that way. I knew Karofsky… I knew how insane he was… and Blaine was dealing with that every day. And he was very close to stabbing himself in the throat with a knife. He had it against his skin… but he told me that he stopped because he wanted to see something beautiful… he said he'd never seen anything beautiful. And then he told me that I was his beautiful thing." Swallowing thickly, Kurt wiped his eyes and tried to come back to himself. "But Karofsky is gone now… and Blaine is getting better. I think I made him better."

"Kurt, I'm sorry." Keegan whispered, scooting closer to Kurt and wrapping him in his arms. "I didn't mean to bring up something so sensitive. It hurts for me, too. I just… had to know how he got through that. I think your Blaine is very strong… not a lot of people would have been able to fight back… and get rid of someone like that… but I do know that it'd be so easy to get better after something like that if you were helping." Bundling Kurt up, Keegan pulled Kurt close and kissed above his eyebrow. "Shh… it's all over now. Blaine is a lucky guy and he never should have left you."

Kurt whimpered at that, burrowing deeper into Keegan's shirt. "I've tried telling myself that I just want him to be happy… and if he's happy with someone else, then that's okay… but I'm so sad. I miss him, Keegan. I miss everything about him… his kisses, his hugs, his laugh… and I just want to feel that again. It's been almost ten months… and I don't know how much more of this I can take. I feel so terrible for you… because it's been years… and you'll never get another hug or kiss from him or hear his laugh a-and—I'm sorry I sound so selfish—"

"Hey," Keegan gently rocked Kurt to soothe him, "no. You don't sound selfish to me. You can't compare what I'm dealing with to what you're dealing with. It was never a choice for me… to give all of that up. I know it wasn't a choice for you, but it's different, Kurt. He's still here… and I'll be damned if I want you to suffer anymore. I want you to get hugs and kisses from him… and hear his laugh. You're not selfish for wanting that. It's just a part of you being in love with him."

Kurt sniffed, "I w-want him back, Keegan. I'm so frightened about everything… but my love for him is something I know for sure."

Keegan hushed him and kept gently rocking him, and Kurt closed his eyes and remembered when he was Blaine's and Blaine was his.

* * *

Blaine staggered down the stairs with Archer wrapped around his chest, Hunter clumsily toddling behind him and clinging to his pant leg. Helping Hunter off the last stair, Blaine reached down for his hand, and Hunter laid his small palm in the middle of Blaine's. "Come on, sweetheart. You're getting so good at keeping your balance. Daddy's so proud of you."

Hunter happily smiled and picked up his pace a little, scrambling after Blaine. He walked into the kitchen and set Archer down on the table, then boosted Hunter up. Quinn was standing by the kitchen counter, her phone at her ear and her brows ruffled. Blaine ignored her as if she wasn't even there, giving both of his babies kisses. "I'm going to make you oatmeal and then you can play."

Archer sleepily yawned and fell against Hunter, his dark lashes lying on his cheeks. Blaine scrubbed his messy curls and turned away. He walked up to the stove and turned it on, then set a pot on one of the burners. Quinn physically showed her disgust to him, glaring at him and muttering into the phone, "I'll call you back, Ethan. My husband just came in."

Blaine's back stiffened and he shot a deadly glare at her, "I told you not to call me that. And I don't give a damn who you talk to."

"Because you're still secretly in love with Kurt and text him every night then spend hours masturbating to him?" She rolled her eyes, peeling off the counter. "Yeah, we're even. I'm going out. Don't expect me to be back tonight."

"I don't want you to be." He muttered, but he had a feeling she still heard him. "And it's not a fucking secret."

"Oh, you are so the worst mistake I've ever made. The only good thing you ever did for me was get a good paying job. Even when you thought you were straight you were still shit… as a boyfriend and in bed." She yanked open the fridge door and pulled out a water bottle. "Don't bring any of your gay lovers over here. Oh, that reminds me… you got a package today. If it's a fucking dildo from Kurt, keep it away from me."

"Don't talk about Kurt like that!" He shouted, but he obviously had lost his threatening side to her since she waved him off and stomped out of the room. Slamming his head against one of the cabinets, Blaine hissed and started to dig his fingers into his palms, but stopped himself when he remembered that the babies were only a foot away.

Shaking his head, Blaine opened the cabinet and pulled out a box of oatmeal powder. He poured a few cups of milk into the pot and waited for it to heat up, then he whipped around and stared at his wide eyed babies. Both of them looked nervous, so Blaine quickly cooled his temper down and whispered, "Daddy's not mad at you."

It rolled off of Hunter almost instantly, and he went back to staring at the tiny birds when they waddled into the kitchen for their morning breakfast. But Archer still seemed bothered, so Blaine carefully approached him and held his arms out. "It's okay, sweetheart. Come here, my little love." Scooping Archer up, Blaine gave kisses to his neck and chin.

"Daddy," Archer happily cooed, curling against Blaine when he got the okay and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Daddy."

Holding Archer to his chest, Blaine looked around for the box Quinn had been talking about. He wondered if it was something from the Warblers or maybe a shirt he'd forgotten back in Ohio. Spying the box on one of the counters, Blaine walked up to it and furrowed his brows when he saw it was from India. "Coop?" He muttered. He picked the box up and brought it back to the kitchen table.

Peeling off the tape, Blaine saw Hunter scoot closer and stare at the box. He opened the flaps and pulled out a photo album that was dated from back when Blaine was just a baby. There was a little sticky note taped to the top of it, so he read the quick note. _Hey, little brother. Found this when I was packing up my stuff. Thought I'd ship it to you. Love you._

Blaine hesitantly flipped the cover of the book and saw a picture of himself just days after he was born, bundled up in a blanket and squirming. His face was red and his Filipino tan was extremely exaggerated, his fuzzy curls exploding from the top of his head. Skipping to the next page, Blaine saw more pictures of himself as a newborn, and as he scanned through the book he slowly got older. Some were of him eating solid foods, and some were of him crawling. In every single one of them he was alone, his parents nowhere in sight. Blaine thought that Coop might have been the one taking the pictures.

Sighing heavily, Blaine rubbed his nape and thought about closing the book, but a little hand stopped him. Archer pointed at one of the pictures of him as a baby, and he looked very concerned. "That's me, sweetheart." Blaine kissed his little hand, "I was a baby."

Hunter pointed at another of the pictures, and Blaine laughed. "It's still me, Hunter. I'm the baby in all of these."

Hunter looked up at him, then at Archer, who looked very similar to Blaine when he was that age. Archer patted the edge of the page, so Blaine flipped it. He was shocked to suddenly see another person in a picture with him, and it was even more shocking that it wasn't Coop. It was a picture of Blaine sitting on the sidewalk, playing with chalk. Another boy was next to him, a fragile looking boy with pale skin and dark blond hair. The boy was smiling with his pink mouth, two dimples popped. He seemed to be drawing a flower, and Blaine was watching what he was doing.

"Who…?" he whispered, shaking his head. He turned the page and the same boy appeared, skipping across Blaine's lawn with Blaine chasing after him. "Who is that?"

Blaine kept turning the pages and saw a close up of the boy, a huge smile on his pretty mouth and a pair of round, blue eyes sparkling with glee. He seemed to be about to giggle, and Blaine recognized that look, that excited expression. He flipped a little faster, which upset Archer as he cooed at Blaine to slow down. But he didn't. He just kept flipping.

The boy kept appearing, that beautiful boy. He had pictures of him and Blaine hugging, and him sitting at a tiny table and pouring fake tea into a cup for Blaine. He was everywhere, and Blaine was starting to wonder if he hadn't gone absolutely insane and was imagining this. And then the boy suddenly stopped appearing, and it was near the end of the book. There were only a scattered few of Blaine, but then the pictures were over.

Blaine knew exactly who he was, but he didn't understand why he didn't remember and why he was suddenly just taken from Blaine, removed from the pictures. He was too young in the pictures to remember much of anything, so he was confused about everything. Putting his hand over his mouth, Blaine rubbed his scratchy face and stared at the book. "Kurt," he whispered, burying his hands in his hair. He had Kurt, and then he'd lost him.

Shoving the book away from him, Blaine stood up suddenly and almost made his chair tip over. "They lied to me," he muttered, trying to clear things up in his head. But the harder he tried, the blurrier things got. "They fucking lied to me."

He set Archer down on the table and almost raced up the stairs, bursting into his bedroom. He ripped open his closet doors and pulled his empty suitcase out, and he threw it onto his bed. He got busy stuffing clothes and anything of his that he could find in it, then zipped it up and picked up his phone. Frantically dialing, Blaine returned downstairs and picked up his babies, who were still sitting on the table and looking very worried.

After a few rings, a woman he didn't know picked up, "California Airlines… can I help you?"

Blaine picked up his babies and went to turn the stove off, pulling the pan off of it. "I need tickets to Ohio… for today. I can't wait."

"I'll just be a few minutes. I'll look up anything last minute." The woman promised him, then put him on hold.

Carrying his babies back upstairs, Blaine laid them on the bed and tore his closet apart, needing to be home as soon as possible. He had so many questions… he had to get answers. He felt kind of bad for leaving his job so suddenly, but he reminded himself to call the Warblers later and let them know something came up.

After he finished packing everything he thought he needed for what he wanted to be a very short stay in Ohio and he got his last minute plane tickets, he scribbled a note to Quinn that he was leaving for a few days, not that he thought she'd ever see it. He'd probably get home before she did, knowing how long she stayed with her many lovers.

And then he walked out and started driving away… and he didn't look back.


	82. Control

Author's note: Hi guys! Here's your quick update! So... I'm so freaking excited right now. This story is almost over and it's a big deal and I really can't wait to start the sequel and if you saw me right now I'd be spastically flailing. But, annyway, the photo album is explained in this one. It's actually kind of sad. Blaine makes some huge changes so yay Blaine! Kurt's back in Ohio and he's just... Kurt. You know Kurt. My Kurt reminds me of a bunny. Yeah. Okay, spoilers for next chapter, just because I can even though I'm probably revealing too much XD

Spoilers: THE WEDDING. AHHH. Just... okay. Yeah. So excited for that. There will be lots of crying. Blaine and Kurt will get within ten feet of each other... and maybe even closer ;) Kurt will talk about Blaine's marriage (possibly with Blaine.) The picture with Brody will not be talked about (that's already been cleared up.) Blaine will do something that everyone's been waiting for. Kurt will be crying and run away from the wedding. Two people will be laying in bed. (I actually made the wedding at home just so there could be a bed scene XD) There will be nudity (Blaine will be one of these naked people, but I won't tell who else he's naked with.) Blaine will end up back at Santana's house, packing to go back to California. Yeah... I've been planning this chapter for quite a while XD if you can guess any of my spoilers right you get a cookie!

deshaunwalker: You'll have to wait and see if he stays! :D You can guess where I'm going with my spoilers XD

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Your reviews just make me laugh so hard! I always have withdrawal symptoms when I don't write XD I thought I wasn't going to be able to post this tonight because my math teacher LOVES homework, but I just decided to do it in class tomorrow and write this tonight! Yaaay procrastination! XD And... I just... AHHHH. I'm still in shock that I'm almost done with this story. I can't handle it. This is my favorite part of writing, and I'm guessing you might be the same way when you're about to finish your story? :D

kathrynevie21: Oh my gosh I love any review I get :) they all just make me smile so much... unless they hate it, obviously XD but your review seriously made me flail a little :D Umm Quinn will have a phone call with Blaine coming up, but she won't actually make an appearance again. The photo album was actually kind of just my excuse to get Blaine to come to Ohio since he obviously wasn't going to come for the wedding, but I of course had to have an angsty backstory for it XD but... yeah... Blaine in Ohio! :D

* * *

Kurt sleepily batted his lashes and rubbed his blurred eyes when someone rubbed his shoulder, and he opened his mouth in a quiet yawn. "Mm…?" Looking around, Kurt spotted Keegan beside of him and smiled, snuggling into his side. "What's going on?" He glanced out the window to his right and gasped at the sight of the ground, so close to the shuddering plane. "Oh, Keegan!"

His aunt reached across Keegan and rubbed his knee, "We're here, sweetie. We're in Ohio. Are you excited? Your dad said him and Carole are waiting inside the airport."

Patting his fingertips together, Kurt squished his nose to the window, "I'm home!" He squeaked, "I'm home!" He started bouncing in his seat as the plane hit the ground, and as soon as all of the lights clicked off he jumped up. Hurrying down the aisle way, Kurt heard his aunt and Keegan calling after him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He was home!

Running off the plane and into the hallway that spilled into the airport, Kurt leapt through the doors and was breathless when he finally stopped. There were English signs all around him, and he could hear English words. No one was wearing all the latest fashions, everyone dressed so casually. "I'm home!" He said to no one in particular, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers when someone said his name.

Whirling around, Kurt peeped at the sight of his dad standing a few feet away, a baseball cap on his head and his hands in his pockets. He grinned from ear to ear and ran over to his dad, jumping into his arms. "Dad!"

His dad almost lifted him off his feet, kissing his hair, "There's my baby! I'm so happy to see you." Grabbing Kurt's cheeks, Burt looked him over and his eyes filled with tears. "I've missed you so much, kiddo."

Kurt's own eyes swelled and he burrowed into his dad's chest, feeling Carole's hand on his back. He heard another voice behind him, and he turned around to face Keegan and Laurice. Laurice smirked at Burt, testing out her very broken English with some French still thrown in there, "Hey, Burt. You've done a really good job with him."

Burt shook his head, "You were the one who raised him. Laurice, I want you to meet my future wife, Carole."

As the two women got to talking about the wedding and Kurt, Burt looked back at Keegan, who politely held his hand out but stayed quiet.

"I remember you." Burt shook his hand, "Thanks for taking care of Kurt. You're one of his best friends." He returned his attention to Kurt and rubbed his shoulder, "Finn's back at the house. You want to go home and unpack your stuff? Keegan, we have an extra room just for you. Blaine's brother and his fiancée used to stay there but they're in India now."

Keegan looked very confused and he tilted his head, so Kurt quickly translated for him in French. Nodding his head, Keegan scratched his nape and stayed silent. Kurt remembered how he felt coming to America the first time and he sympathized with him.

Burt led them out to the parking lot and Kurt was relieved to step inside the same car with the same smell and the same people in it. Smiling, Kurt sat down beside of Keegan and relaxed, absolutely content. He hadn't felt this good in months. Carole turned around in her seat up front and looked directly at Kurt, a hesitant smile on her lips, "Do you still like it here, Kurt?"

"There's nothing better than being home." He whispered and happily laid his head on Keegan's shoulder.

They got to the house after a few minutes, and Kurt was amazed to see that white streamers decorated the entire house. Tables were set up in the yard, and a sign with Carole and Burt's names painted on it was lying in the middle of the yard. "Oh, this is amazing!" Hopping out of the car, Kurt took in his old house. He was so happy to be there that he hopped up and down.

"Just a little something I put into the wedding myself." Carole said from behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. "I'll like getting married at home… with my two boys helping out… especially you, Kurt. I'm so happy with everything you've done for me."

"Oh," Kurt tried not to cry again, "thank you! I love planning weddings. They're so romantic."

Burt pulled his luggage from the back of the car, and he dragged it up the driveway. "Come on, honey. Let's get you settled in."

Kurt happily skipped after Burt, Keegan right on his heels. He followed his dad into the house and saw that Finn's door was open. He could see the outline of Finn through the crack in his door, and while Burt carried his luggage up and pointed out Keegan's room to him, he waved at Finn, "Finn!"

Finn immediately looked up, and he slowly got to his feet. He pushed out of his bedroom and Kurt noticed that there was something different about him. He didn't know what, but he giddily bounced on his toes, anyway. "Finn, I'm home!"

Raising a brow at Kurt, Finn hesitantly approached him and pulled him into a hug, "Hey, little brother. How was France?"

Finn smelled different, and Kurt wondered why he changed his cologne. "It was just as wonderful as I thought it'd be but I'm happy to be home! Aren't you happy to see me?" He suddenly pointed up the stairs at a blond head, "This is Keegan, my best friend."

"Oh." Finn rubbed the nape of his neck, and he glanced over his shoulder when the bathroom door swung open. Puck walked out, much to Kurt's surprise, but he waved at him, too. "Hey… Keegan."

Keegan didn't understand him and looked at Kurt to translate, but Kurt was pulled into a squishing hug. "Kurt!" Puck rubbed the top of his head, messing up his hair. "Hey, cutie. I'm glad you're home."

"Hi, Puck!" Kurt gasped with relief when Puck set him down and he could breathe again. "I didn't expect to see you here… but I'm so happy that you are!"

"I always hang out here," Puck snorted, walking behind Finn and wrapping his arms around him. He pressed a kiss to Finn's cheek. "Didn't Finn tell you that we started dating?" When Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers and his mouth fell open, Puck kept talking, "Yeah, we both just got fed up with girls and then he told me about what happened with Blaine… and this happened."

"Blaine?" Kurt murmured when Finn shook his head at Puck. "What happened with Blaine?"

"Honey!" Burt hollered from upstairs, "Your room is ready. I left your suitcases by the bed."

Glancing up at his dad, Kurt tried to distract himself from what Puck had said and what Finn seemed so against him hearing, but it was very hard. He wondered if Blaine was okay. He left his brother and Puck with one last look, but Finn's face revealed nothing, and Puck didn't seem bothered by Kurt's concern. Wandering up the stairs, Kurt padded over to his room and peeked inside. Keegan was sitting on his bed, staring at the room around him, the empty, empty room.

Kurt frowned as he walked deeper inside, his hand brushing over the dresser without knocking a single thing off. Blaine's things should have been there. Sniffing the room, Kurt frowned when he didn't get a whiff of Blaine, his spicy, masculine scent.

"Is something out of place?" Keegan muttered from the bed, switching back to French, his comfort language. He kicked his feet up and folded his hands behind his head. "You look like something's bothering you."

Kurt frowned and shook his head, hearing Carole call for him from below. He hurried over to his doorway and said, "Yes?"

"I need your help. I can't decide whether to go with dark or light tablecloths." She pleaded, and he padded down the hallway, relieved to leave his room. The room where something was out of place… his empty, empty room.

* * *

Blaine pulled up in front of his old house and tugged his sunglasses from his face, looking in the mirror at Archer and Hunter, who were each holding a tiny bird and gently petting them. He turned back around and glared at the towering house, the place where all of his ruined childhood waited to disturb him. He stared at the house, feeling childish and immature and like he was just a teenager again. He didn't want to remember his teenage years, so he looked at his babies and said, "Daddy will be right back."

Archer batted at nothing and giggled when Pavarotti nibbled his wiggling fingers. Sighing, Blaine tucked the photo album under his arm. He left the car on and stepped out, closing his door behind him. He locked the doors, even though there was no one around, and he walked up to his doorway. He was jealous of his babies. Even alone and defenseless, they were safer than he was. Rolling his eyes with disgust, Blaine pounded his fist against the door.

He heard shuffling from within, and a low mutter, then the door swung open. His dad had aged harshly, lines deep in his face and gray streaks painted through his dark hair. His brows pushed together at the sight of Blaine, and without a word he raised his hand and pushed Blaine back a step. "I want you off my property now."

"Shut the fuck up," Blaine shoved past his dad. "Where's Mom at?"

"Away on business." His dad slammed the door behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "What the fuck do you want? I told you if you ever came back here I would get a restraining order—"

"Do it." Blaine dared him, walking into the living room and sitting down on the arm of a couch. "I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to be, but I want to know about _this._" He thrust the photo album at his dad, and his dad curled his lip at it.

"It's a photo album." He shook his head. "What about it?"

Blaine scowled at his dad's feigned obliviousness, and he flipped to the first page showing a picture of him and the other little boy. "I want to know if you knew about him." He pointed at the blond boy, and his dad narrowed his eyes at the picture.

"Yes, I knew." He snapped. "Is that all you wanted? Get out."

Blaine slammed the book shut, "What happened to him?" he shouted. "I can't remember anything so tell me! Tell me what the fuck happened to Kurt! Why didn't I stay with him? He's in all these pictures except the last few! Tell me why!"

His dad rolled his eyes as if Blaine was asking obvious questions, "There's your temper. I always knew it would get the best of you." When Blaine didn't make a sound, his lips curled and his eyes fiery with resentment, his dad grumbled, "I ended the friendship. I told you that you weren't allowed to be around him anymore. I kept you inside and you couldn't see him anymore."

Something inside of Blaine snapped, and he hit a nearby lamp. It tumbled off the desk and smashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. "_Why?_" he screamed and got to his feet. "You could see that he made me happy! The pictures with him were the only ones I was smiling in."

His dad ignored his last statement, "I didn't want you influenced by a boy who wears dresses and has tea parties."

Blaine's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and without another thought he lunged at his dad and slammed him up against a wall. "He could have kept me safe, you asshole!" Letting go of his dad, Blaine looked down at his white, slashed palms. "If I had stayed with him none of this would have happened! I could have been normal—"

"You were normal, Blaine." His dad muttered from the side of his mouth. "And then you got involved with him again and he took you down."

"This isn't normal!" Blaine shouted at the top of his lungs, showing his dad his palms. "I almost died!" Stumbling away, Blaine pulled up the bottom of his sweatshirt and ran his fingers over the small bumps where Karofsky had stabbed him with a piece of glass. "He almost killed me. I had my virginity stolen by a slut… I've slept with people I don't love… I've hurt people. I've hurt myself. I've been raped." Tears rolled down his cheeks and he started to crumble, "None of that would have happened if you had just let me see Kurt when we were children."

"It's all because you're a fag—"

His dad's lack of understanding and prejudice against him made Blaine scream until his throat burned and tears were streaking his cheeks like rain, "Call me a faggot. Do you think I care anymore? Do you think that bothers me? You let me fall into a psycho's hands… and he almost suffocated me. He almost killed me. I owe Kurt… everything. He was the one who got me away from that psycho, and he risked himself doing it. He could ask anything of me… but he doesn't. He just wants me. He doesn't want me to change or do anything. My n-name is Blaine… not fag. And I'm done letting people like you and that psycho control me. I'm my own person. This is my hand…" he pointed at his scarred hand, "and my shoulder. And my heart. None of it is yours."

His dad suddenly opened his eyes and he glared at Blaine, "You can't talk to me like this in my own house!" Raising his hand again, his dad lashed out and suddenly punched the left side of Blaine's face.

Blaine yelped and grabbed his mouth, which was dripping blood, but as soon as he got control of himself again he snarled at his dad, "I think you're scared of me… that I didn't roll over and die like you wanted. I'm strong enough to fight back, and it's because of the boy who wears dresses that I am. He's definitely stronger than you." Wincing when his eye started throbbing, Blaine said, "I'm strong enough to not let you control me anymore."

He strode out of his old house and smashed the door into the wall after he got out, and he walked down the pathway. He got back into his car and looked at his babies, who stared at him as if he was crazy. And maybe he was. But he felt better. Suddenly sobbing into his sleeve, Blaine shakily pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a familiar number.

Santana picked up after a few rings, "Blaine?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" He begged, woozily starting to drive. He felt like a part of him was missing, like he'd just gotten rid of something he needed. It felt different, but he also felt like he could somehow live without it.

Santana sounded like she was smiling, "I always knew you would come back after your mistake bit you in the ass a few times."

Blaine pulled out of his dad's driveway and onto the main road, leaving behind the house where something was out of place. His empty, empty house.


	83. Back to December

Author's note: So... yeah. It's 1:30 in the morning right now and I have to be up at 5:30 to go to a college visit. But I wanted to get this up before I spend six hours away from my laptop, so here it is! Yeah. This one was... pretty interesting. I had some trouble with the beginning, but it eventually took off. In my next chapter Kurt's going to finally take charge... sort of. Not really, but it's his version of taking charge. So... Carole and Burt in this one. Aww. They're so cute... kind of :/ I'm tired right now so I'm not responsible for anything I'm saying. Ugh, I could give you guys spoilers but I'm super duper tired so I'm just going to reply to reviews. You guys can play the guessing game with where I'm going with my next few chapters XD

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Are you serious? I could never go for months without updating this. I can't even go a day. XD dancing about... I always flail when I get reviews. It just makes me so happy! :D and guess what? THEY MEET AGAIN IN THIS ONE. Ahhhh. It actually wasn't as major or that big of a deal as I thought it would be. I'm just worried it doesn't flow well... idk... and, yeah, even though I don't say it in the chapter, this wedding is definitely on your birthday XD

deshaunwalker: Guess who talks again in this chapter? :D okay, yeah, I don't know if I'll ever have Blaine give the specifics of what he's done. I think I just want it as Kurt knowing that he's slept with other men and gotten married, but he doesn't know who and he's okay with that as long as Blaine is his :)

P.S. So I totally forgot to mention this when I first posted this (maybe it's because it was really early and I was exhausted :P) but one of my reviewers reminded me that it's my Fanficiversary or Outiversary! :D

* * *

Blaine stared up at the ceiling, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip and his ring finger against his cheek. He rubbed his finger on his skin, feeling the hard band of his wedding ring. He wondered if Kurt still wore his engagement ring. Blaine doubted it, considering the distance he'd forced between them and how he'd broken Kurt's heart. His eyes filled as he thought of the stupid mistakes he made, and the worst was making Kurt unhappy. He'd promised himself he'd never do that, and it was like a knife to his heart that he did. Rubbing his cheek harder, Blaine kept going until it was throbbing, his skin already sore from where his dad had hit him.

Rolling onto his stomach, Blaine buried his face in his pillow and felt his tears make the fabric damp. It was uncomfortable on his face, but he just wanted to cry without anyone having to see it. He didn't like crying in front of people. Whimpering, Blaine listened to Santana in the other room, cabinets opening and closing as she got ready. He ignored her. He was jealous of her. She was dressing up for the wedding that was happening in just a few hours, but he was keeping his ass in bed. He didn't need to be there.

After a few minutes, the door pushed open and he felt the bed dip. A light hand was laid on his back, and the hand gently started rubbing, "You're pathetic." Santana said. "Look at you. I could hear you crying from the bathroom. If you want to hide that you're crying, you might want to work on not sobbing so loudly." When Blaine didn't respond, she sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. "You're really not going to come? Kurt personally invited you… he wants you there, Blaine."

"He doesn't want me." Blaine muttered into the pillow, not sure if she actually heard his muffled voice. "He doesn't know all of the horrible things I've done."

"Yeah, you've done shit." She said without much affair. "You've even done his brother. And he's going to find out about those things one day… but do you think he'll care? He's Kurt… he doesn't get mad at people, and he definitely doesn't get mad at you."

"I want him to be mad at me." Tears spilled from his eyes again.

"Oh, calm down." Santana yanked him up by the back of his shirt, and she rolled her eyes at his wet, frowning face. "Everything with you is like a miniature soap opera. You might as well try… and if he turns you down, you can go back to crying into a pillow. Maybe not this pillow…" she pulled the damp pillow out from under him and glared at it, "because this is my pillow. Blaine, Kurt is like a bunny." That quickly got his attention, and he looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "He gets startled easily… and then he just goes back to eating carrots. Sadness doesn't last long with him."

Blaine rolled away from her, facing the wall. He didn't want her to be right. "I don't belong there." He whispered, shaking his head. "This is his dad's wedding. If I show up, I'll just make drama. I don't want to ruin it for them—"

"Weddings are always disasters!" Santana shouted, pulling him back toward her. "There are family fights and the cake falls and there's crying and hooking up with people you've never met because you're totally wasted… so I don't think you are going to cause that much drama."

Blaine stayed quiet for a few minutes, and then he whispered, "You're not going to stop until I say yes, are you?"

"No, I'm not." Santana shook her head. "I'm not going to this wedding without you. It's getting late… get your ass out of bed and take a shower."

Looking up at her, Blaine said, "Whatever. But I'm staying away from Kurt. And, San, if he sees me and looks hurt—" he choked on his words and pinched the bridge of his nose. He never thought he'd be saying something like that, and it wounded him. "I'll have to leave. I can't hurt him. I c-can't break his heart anymore… it'll break mine."

"Blaine—" Santana said lowly, but he got up and pushed away from her. He walked out of the room, crying until his cheeks were raw and he had no tears left to fall.

* * *

Kurt poked his nose out of his bedroom, his eyes wide and his ears perked up to the sounds of chattering and laughter. He saw a few of his distant relatives and his dad's football buddies gathered in the hallways, talking and pointing at the streamers hanging from the ceilings. He slipped from his bedroom and smiled at all of his family members when they noticed him, but his eyes kept wandering around. He was desperately searching for a dark head, and he was disappointed when he didn't see that curly hair anywhere.

He felt someone come up behind him, and he turned around to face Keegan. Keegan was dressed in a loose tuxedo with a blue vest underneath. Widening his eyes as he was swarmed with English words he didn't understand, he muttered, "Will these people talk to me?"

Kurt laughed aloud, and he took Keegan's hand. "They might. My family is very chatty. My dad's friends…" he tapped his chin and looked at the group of guys from his dad's work, all of them chuckling over the last football game and sipping beer, "might not. They just like football. I want to see the backyard!" Rushing down the stairs with Keegan on his heels, Kurt wiggled through the piles of people in his living room. He kept looking for that dark head, but he was nowhere to be seen. Kurt tried to keep a smile on his face despite his sadness.

Pressing himself to the window looking outback, Kurt gasped at the sight of confetti sprinkling the grass, ten rows of chairs set up on either side of a red carpet that rolled up to a white platform. An arch hung over the platform, and vines fell down from it. "It's so pretty!" He squeaked, eyeing everything with glee. "Don't you like it, Keegan?"

Keegan didn't answer him, and Kurt glanced at him, seeing that he was distracted by something behind them. Kurt followed his eyes to the kitchen doorway, where a pair of blue eyes were peeking around the corner at them. The blue eyes crinkled when Kurt looked at them, and then they hid behind the wall. After a few seconds, a little boy stuck his head out and giggled, patting his feet excitedly. He held his arms out, "Kurt!" He said in a high pitched voice, and Kurt's mouth fell open.

"Archer." He whispered, surprised to see the little baby. He pulled away from the window and walked up to the baby, who grinned up at him. He grabbed his nearby teddy bear and waved it at Kurt. Bending down, Kurt picked up the baby. "Do you remember me?"

Archer stuck his tongue out and patted Kurt's face, giggling again. He shyly hid his face in Kurt's shoulder, "Kurt!"

Tears swam in Kurt's eyes and he happily squeezed the baby, "Archer! What are you doing by yourself? Who brought you? Oh, you're talking! And you can walk all by yourself. You're getting so big."

He heard another person call his name, and he looked up at Santana. She was holding a brown haired baby who batted at Archer and grinned. "Sorry… he ran away when he saw you." Stroking Archer's dark hair, she glanced at Kurt. "Hey. Congrats on your dad's marriage."

"Thank you," Kurt reached out for Hunter, who held his hand out. He took Hunter's little hand in his. "Is this Hunter? Oh, hi, sweetheart! Look at you. You're both so big." Kissing Hunter's cheek, Kurt happily bounced Archer up and down. "Who are they staying with? How are they here?"

"They're with Blaine." She nodded at something Kurt couldn't see through the pack of people. "He's back in Ohio. Something came up… he had to come back. He's over—"

"Everyone," Kurt's dad's voice carried from the living room, "if you wouldn't mind finding your seats. We only rented the carpet for so long."

He got a few laughs at that, and Kurt turned back to Santana. He handed Archer over to her, giving one last kiss to the baby's forehead. "I'll see you at the reception. I have to walk with my brother now… wherever he went. Thank you for coming… it means so much to me." He quickly wrapped her in his arms, then spun around and hurried away to find Finn.

* * *

Blaine let Santana pull him to his seat, the grass crunching under their feet. He kept Archer in his arms, and Santana held onto Hunter. They passed by relatives of Kurt's who were sitting closer to the front, and Santana got them seats in the third row. Blaine sat down on the end, avoiding any conversation with family of Kurt's. He felt too guilty. Looking around, he saw older women and men—maybe Carole's parents and Burt's parents—sitting in the front row, and behind them was a blond boy. Blaine thought he might be a cousin of Kurt's, but maybe he worked with him, too. He looked good enough to be a model.

Resting his chin on his fist, Blaine turned away from the people and stared at his lap. He didn't know what he was feeling right now. He was confused… somehow he was happy, somewhere deep down. He thought it was for Burt and Carole, who had become his parents over the past year, but all he could think about was Kurt. And even though their relationship was over and he was terrified that Kurt would get upset at seeing him, he was happy to be near him again.

Suddenly, the music started playing, a low melody that Blaine had heard at plenty of other weddings. But this time it got to him, and he quickly turned around. Burt appeared in the doorway first, and he walked off the aisle and around the rows of chairs. Blaine saw him shaking hands and thanking people as he went, then he stepped up onto the empty platform. A few women around Carole's age stepped onto the aisle next, but Blaine ignored them as they walked by.

Archer suddenly reached for Blaine's hand, and Blaine briefly tore his eyes from the door. He looked down at his baby and pulled him onto his lap, "Shh…" he soothed him, kissing the top of his head. Suddenly, another woman walked by, and she looked very much like Kurt. Her hair was long and a light brown, and she had his blue eyes. He thought she might have been his aunt. She grinned at everyone, and he saw Kurt's grin in her.

Two people appeared in the doorway next, the one on the right Finn. Finn was holding another boy's arm, and the other boy was blushing and hiding behind his bouquet of flowers. The flowers lowered when they started to walk, and Blaine felt his jaw swing to the ground. Kurt was just as gorgeous as he remembered, if not more so. His hair was about two inches longer and a little messier than how he used to wear it, but it was still combed back into a perfect coif. His eyes were glowing with happiness as he politely smiled at all of the guests, and his smile was breathtaking. His dimples were popped and his pink lips were curved from ear to ear. He was wrapped in a tight dress that left nothing to the imagination, not that Blaine had to imagine anything. He remembered _everything._

As he passed by, he tossed flowers and searched the audience for something. He briefly paused on Santana, who was holding Hunter, and he waved at him. Hunter cooed and reached out for Kurt, obviously remembering the boy who had loved him when he was just a newborn. Then his eyes flicked to Blaine's lap, where Archer was sitting, and he tossed him a little flower. It landed by Blaine's foot, and Blaine looked down at it and picked it up, then he glanced back up. Kurt's eyes were on his face that time, much to his alarm, and there was something different about his expression. His mouth was open and a deep redness bloomed under his pale skin, and he seemed to shiver.

He quickly looked away and Blaine noticed that he pinched his hand. While he looked at Kurt's delicate hands, he saw that he was still wearing all of Blaine's rings, including his engagement ring. "Kurt," he whispered, and Santana slapped his arm, getting to her feet.

Blaine realized that everyone else around him was standing, so he quickly followed the crowd, even though he didn't know what he was standing for. He felt woozy and his stomach was churning. He thought he might pass out. Looking over his shoulder, Blaine's eyes widened when he saw that Kurt was staring right back at him. Kurt seemed to be fidgeting, and when their eyes met, he was the first to glimpse away. He tried to smile at whoever was coming down the aisle, but his eyes were drifting back to Blaine. Blaine thought it was cute how hard he was trying to be subtle about his glances.

It took every bit of strength in him to not jump over seats and run up to Kurt and kiss him until he was weak in his arms. He wanted to taste that pink mouth. He wanted it now. He wanted to hold that precious body in his arms and unzip his dress, lay him down on a bed somewhere and—oh, fuck.

Jerking his eyes away, Blaine tried to calm himself down and he fanned his face. After a moment, everyone sat down, so Blaine followed their lead. Once he was facing the right way, he got the perfect view of Kurt. He was smiling at his dad and Carole, who seemed to be saying something to each other. Blaine couldn't hear a word. He felt faint. His throat was swollen. Touching his hot forehead, Blaine blew out heavily and stared at Kurt. He was too beautiful for his own good, his hips gently swinging and his teeth nibbling his bottom lip.

After a few seconds, Kurt's head slowly started to turn, and he jumped when he realized that Blaine was ogling him. Quickly looking away, Kurt pressed his lips together and hid behind what was left of his bouquet. Blaine wanted to take him somewhere. Somewhere where only he could see that blushing face. See his pretty smile.

Kurt's eyes looked back at Blaine, but he didn't turn his head this time, and his face turned the brightest red Blaine had ever seen. He wiggled a little, rubbing his thighs together. Blaine wanted to know why.

Suddenly, the audience exploded into applause, and Blaine jumped. He finally turned his eyes to Carole and Burt, who were deep in a kiss. Returning his attention to Kurt as he clapped his hands together, he smiled as Kurt patted his fingertips, lightly bouncing on his toes. Blaine was glad he still hopped up and down when he got excited. He thought the habit was adorable.

Burt turned away from his wife, and he raised his hand, "Let's go eat some cake!"

At the command, the audience quickly rose and pushed their way over to the finger food table, a massive cake sitting in the middle. Blaine stayed in his seat, waiting to see what Kurt was going to do, until Archer patted his chest. "Cake?" He whispered, eyeing the cake with longing.

"Daddy will get you a piece." Getting to his feet, Blaine led Santana over to the crowd. They waited until Carole and Burt got the first slices, and after a few people elbowed their way in, then Blaine set two small pieces on a plate for Archer and Hunter. He carried Archer over to a table where fewer people were sitting, and he let Archer dig his fingers into the cake and shove it into his mouth. Hunter reached for his own piece and eagerly licked up every crumb.

He lost Kurt in the crowd, but he figured that it might be for the best. He could just let him go, wouldn't have to tell him about what he'd done over the past year. Wouldn't have to break his heart again. Shaking his head, Blaine looked at Santana, "I want to go. I'm going to tell Burt congratulations… then we need to go."

"Blaine, calm down." She commanded, setting Hunter on the table and getting to her feet. "I'm getting food. We can stay for another hour or two."

She walked away and Blaine sat back, listening to music start playing. It was a noisy, upbeat song that Blaine didn't recognize. Those who weren't eating quickly hurried onto a cleared out area of grass where they started spastically dancing to the beat. Resting his chin on his fist, Blaine stared at his babies as they put cake into each other's mouths.

He turned back to the dance floor and was surprised to see Kurt in the middle of it, dancing with the blond boy Blaine had spotted earlier. They seemed to be having fun, Kurt laughing as the blond boy shimmied his shoulders. Blaine smiled. So beautiful.

Santana returned with a plateful of food and followed Blaine's eyes to Kurt, and she shook her head as if he was ridiculous. "Just talk to him. He's not that big of a threat." Stuffing her face with a piece of broccoli, she stared at the dancers. "Do you want to dance?"

Blaine shook his head, happily hidden at a table away from everyone else. "No. I need to find Burt." He got to his feet and walked through the crowd, keeping his distance from Kurt. He wasn't sure what he would do if he got near Kurt… probably throw him over his shoulder and tear off that tight dress with his teeth. He found Burt at a table full of guys, Finn and Puck at the very end. He avoided looking at Finn and approached Burt, who glanced up at him and smiled.

"Blaine!" He shouted, pulling him close and slapping his back a few times. "Blaine, I was just thinking about you. These are the guys I watch football with." He pointed at Blaine, "This guy is just like a son to me. You might as well call him a Hummel."

Blaine swallowed thickly, scuffing the ground with his shoe when a few guys looked him over. One of them said, "Welcome to the family, Blaine. It's nice to meet you. Burt there is a really good guy to have as your dad. You'll want to appreciate him."

Clearing his throat, Blaine said, "I know." He returned his attention to Burt, "Congratulations on your wedding. It looks great."

Burt shook his head, "None of it is mine. Kurt put all of this together. Have you seen Kurt yet? I think he's somewhere over there with Keegan."

"Keegan?" Blaine muttered, his eyes widening. He remembered Kurt telling him about Keegan, and his head snapped up. He glanced at Burt again, but he was already talking about the big game coming up. Running his hand through his hair, Blaine walked away from him and almost instantly ran into the dark haired girl who looked exactly like Kurt.

She smiled at him, and two dimples popped, "Are you, by any chance, Blaine?"

Blaine nodded, and he inhaled sharply when she suddenly threw her arms around him. "I'm Laurice… Kurt's aunt. Oh, Kurt's told me so much about you! You're just as handsome in person." She pulled away from him and scanned the crowd, "Does Kurt know you're here? You should talk to him. He's missed you like crazy."

Blaine's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Nodding his head, Blaine slipped away from her and he wrapped his arms around himself. He really needed out of there before he did something stupid. "It was good to meet you." He muttered over his shoulder, returning to the table where Santana was still sitting. His babies had finished their cake and they were amusing themselves by kicking at each other and sliding their toes together.

He hesitantly turned back to the dance floor, but Kurt was gone that time. Searching the crowd of people, Blaine saw Keegan standing by the punch bowl, but Kurt wasn't with him. He bit down on his bottom lip and put his chin on his fist, wondering how he'd get through these next two hours. He sighed heavily and reached out for his babies. Hunter leaned over and put his mouth around Blaine's fist, his slobbery mouth making Blaine's hand very wet.

"You're Daddy's good baby." He said, pulling his fist from Hunter's mouth and stroking his thick hair. Looking over Blaine's shoulder, Hunter batted his fists and screeched at something. Archer looked up and grinned from ear to ear, bouncing on his butt.

Blaine turned around to see what had them so excited, and his breath rushed out of him when he saw Kurt inches away from him. He was so close that had Blaine shifted only an inch their knees would have rubbed. Blaine could smell him, and he was wearing Blaine's old cologne. It was addicting… made him feel like he had claimed him. Something possessive came out of him, but he quickly hit it down. He couldn't do this. Kurt wasn't his anymore.

Kurt curled his hands into tiny fists and he grabbed his skirt, his hips swinging from side to side. "Thank you for coming." was the only thing Kurt said, his nervousness very obvious in the way he was standing and how his toes kept curling, very visible through his strappy high heels.

Opening his mouth then closing it, Blaine slumped over and hid his face from Kurt. Kurt shyly held his shaky hand out, his fingers visibly trembling. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Blaine's head snapped up, and his mouth got very dry. Without thinking, Blaine covered Kurt's warm hand with his own. It sent delicious tingles up his arm. His mouth trembled. "I'd love to," he whispered automatically, and he wondered where the fuck that had come from.

Kurt waited until Blaine got up to start moving, and then he scooted a little closer to him. Their sides rubbed, and Blaine felt dizzy again. They walked in silence to the dance floor, where couples were dancing to a very slow song. Burt and Carole were a few feet away, and when he spotted him Burt lifted his head and grinned at Blaine.

Blaine quickly looked away, turning them so he didn't have to see anyone, including Santana. He didn't want to think about the facial expressions she'd be giving him right now. Flushing from his head to his toes, Blaine almost melted when Kurt stepped closer to him, looping his arms around his neck. He rested his cheek on Blaine's chest, very stiff in Blaine's arms. "You're so warm," he whispered, tangling his fingers in Blaine's loose curls. Blaine physically shuddered, and he knew Kurt felt it. "Your heart is pounding."

Blaine slowly wrapped his arms around Kurt, and it was so right. Lifting Kurt off his toes, Blaine set him on his shoes to bring him even closer. Their bodies pressed together, leaving absolutely no space, and Blaine could feel how slippery Kurt was, his body shaking so hard that Blaine worried he'd fall off. Something came out of Blaine as he held Kurt, and he dragged one hand up his back and cupped the nape of his neck, and he slid his other down so his arm wrapped around his butt. "Don't be afraid," Blaine whispered, and he wasn't sure if he was telling that more to himself or to Kurt.

Kurt trembled and nuzzled under Blaine's chin, "Hold me tighter." When Blaine immediately tightened his grip, yanking Kurt impossibly closer to him, he whispered, "Are you real? I fantasize about you all the time… but you always go away."

"I'm not going away," Blaine assured him, dropping his head to his shoulder. To both of their surprises, he pressed a light kiss to it. It seemed to be too much for Kurt, and he lifted his head from Blaine's chest. Blaine also looked up, wondering if Kurt was going to walk away like he should have, but he stayed very close. His bottom lip trembled, and he closed his eyes.

"You can kiss me if you want," he purred, and Blaine fought with himself, but the battle didn't last more than three seconds.

Ducking his head, Blaine kept their mouths very close together. He felt Kurt's breath on his face, and it turned him on. He gasped and touched their mouths, and it was like something came alive in Blaine. He felt everything, was aware of everything, and he forgot about what he'd done. It didn't matter at that moment. He wasn't a monster or a beast… he was Kurt's. In those few seconds that they kissed, he was Kurt's.

Kurt whimpered on Blaine's mouth, pulling him back into the kiss, and he deepened it with a slide of his tongue. He licked Kurt's upper lip, and Kurt parted for him. They got so close they could have counted as one person, their lips tugging and rubbing. Kurt mewled and lifted on his toes, poking his tongue into Blaine's mouth. Groaning, Blaine twisted his mouth, then whined when Kurt suddenly tugged away.

He put his hand to his moist mouth, his eyes as wide as saucers. "You're married… we can't do this." Pulling away from Blaine, Kurt held his hands to his face, his eyes filling with tears. He shook his head and ran toward the house, disappearing into the kitchen door.

"Shit," Blaine whispered, sprinting after Kurt. The house was empty, everyone gathered outside, so Blaine managed to get through the house much quicker. "Kurt!"

He heard Kurt run up the stairs, so he prowled after him and took the stairs three at a time. "Kurt, stop!" Throwing himself onto the top floor, Blaine stopped to catch his breath and saw Kurt standing there, pinned against a wall. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he had a hand over his mouth, an alarmed expression on his face. "Sweetheart, don't run from me. I'll just follow you." He stepped toward Kurt, and he panicked and pressed himself against the wall. "Sweetheart—"

"I'm not." Kurt mewled, his voice tiny and weak. "I'm not your sweetheart anymore. Blaine, you're married. We can't be alone like this. You're frightening me."

"It doesn't matter." Blaine shook his head, his voice lowering and becoming breathier. "Kurt, it doesn't matter. I'll leave her. I don't care. She has other men now."

"You're different now." Kurt squeaked, backing away from Blaine. "Things are different between us—"

Blaine shook his head again, finally closing the distance between him and Kurt. He wrapped his trembling body in his arms, "No… baby, look at me. I'm still me… I'm still Blaine." He took Kurt's hands in his and touched them to his face. Kurt helplessly curled his fingers and stroked Blaine's stubble. Turning his head, Blaine kissed Kurt's palm. "I'm so sorry I broke your heart. I never wanted to. You are so precious to me." He sobbed against Kurt's hand, "Tell me you don't love me and I'll leave. I'll go back to California and I won't ever bother you again. I don't want to keep hurting you—"

"No!" Kurt grabbed Blaine's shoulders and clung to him, "You can't leave again." Gasping, Kurt murmured, "I still love you."

Blaine pulled Kurt closer to his body. Both of them stumbled into their bedroom and Blaine kicked the door shut, and Kurt tugged him to the bed. He lay down on the bed and put his head on the pillow, and Blaine dropped on top of him. He took Kurt's mouth in a wet kiss, their tongues dancing and curling around each other. Reaching for the back of Kurt's dress, Blaine unzipped it and yanked it down Kurt's body, revealing sweet, white skin underneath. Helplessly bending over him, Blaine pressed kisses to his neck and made a soft trail down to his hips, then licked back up to his neck.

He lifted his head and stared at the shiny streak he'd left behind, and he growled deeply. Kurt's nipples were already pointed and ready for him, a deep, rosy color. Licking one nipple, Blaine heard Kurt moan and he felt his fingers dig into his back. "B-Blaine… not yet. I'm so close." Whimpering, Kurt slid his hands to the front of Blaine's baggy tuxedo, and he pushed the jacket down his arms.

Blaine helped him out by unbuttoning his undershirt and throwing that aside, leaving his chest naked. Kurt moaned again and reached for Blaine's crotch, clumsily unzipping his pants. "Make love to me." He begged, pushing Blaine's pants down his thighs. "Blaine… please… I need to feel you inside of me."

Blaine kicked his pants the rest of the way off, then he shoved his boxers down. After stripping Kurt completely of his dress and leaving them both absolutely naked, Blaine lay down between the soft cradle of his thighs and he stared at Kurt's small face. "I love you." He whispered, rocking his hips and pushing his balmy tip against Kurt's tight hole.

Kurt lifted his hips and tried to sink down on Blaine, but he was too tight. "O-Oh… I love you, too, Blaine…" Tugging his head down, Kurt pressed their lips and cried out when Blaine started a rhythm and pushed his tip inside. "Oh!"

"You're so tight." Blaine shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to get control of himself. Kurt's tight heat around him was too much for him, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. Kurt rubbed his thighs again and he squeezed Blaine, and Blaine groaned lowly. "Oh, baby…"

Pushing deeper, Blaine slid until he was fully buried, and he whispered, "How do you feel?"

Kurt opened his eyes, his brows furrowed and his lips white from gnawing them. "I feel so full. It feels good, Blaine."

Blaine adjusted his position and pushed in again, bumping Kurt's prostate. Kurt squealed and his hips arched into Blaine's, forcing Blaine even deeper. He hit Kurt's prostate again and again, and he watched Kurt fall apart. His cheeks turned bright red and he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands reaching up and twisting in Blaine's hair. He pulled it and Blaine growled, turned on by the sharp tug.

His cock brushed Kurt's walls and the sliding friction made Blaine convulse, his orgasm extremely close. He grabbed Kurt's small cock and pumped him, his rough hand very pleasuring on Kurt's soft skin. "Blaine!" Kurt shrieked and spilled on his own stomach, shuddering and spasming underneath him.

At the sound of his name bouncing off of Kurt's tongue, Blaine shouted Kurt's name and came deep inside of him. His seed spilled from Kurt and dripped onto his thighs, and Blaine wanted to lick it off, but he stayed still after his orgasm finished. He wasn't even sure what Kurt would think of making love to Blaine.

Gasping, Blaine laid his head on Kurt's shoulder as Kurt twitched and rubbed his thighs. He heard Kurt moan, "More…"

Looking up with alarm, Blaine stared at Kurt's crumpled face. He wanted Blaine to take him again? Kurt slowly opened his eyes and sighed deeply, his hand touching Blaine's hard face. "Mm… I want you again."

Blaine didn't have much trouble doing what Kurt wanted, and after he made Kurt come again, they both rolled over. Kurt curled up on Blaine's chest and happily purred, while Blaine stroked his naked ass and back. After a few minutes, Kurt fell asleep in Blaine's arms, but Blaine couldn't sleep. He could do nothing but think.

Kurt obviously still wanted him, which made him very happy, but he couldn't stay. He knew he couldn't. For a long time while Kurt slept, a smile on his lips and his cheek against Blaine's nipple, Blaine thought about all of the stupid mistakes he'd made. And he realized that, no, he definitely couldn't stay with Kurt. He was too ruined… damaged… wrong for him.

Sighing, Blaine finally made himself slide out from under Kurt. He laid Kurt against the pillows and pulled the blankets over his naked body. Sobbing into his scarred hand, Blaine knelt down and kissed beside of Kurt's eye, then on his sweet, soft lips. Kurt sighed in his sleep and his smile widened, "Blaine…"

"Yeah… I'm still here… for now." He promised Kurt. "I love you." Kissing Kurt's lips one last time, Blaine turned away and pulled on his clothes. He walked over to the doorway and stopped, glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping boy who used to be his. "I love you," he said again, then he closed the door and walked away.

He planned on grabbing Santana and leaving… he had to. There was no way he could be with Kurt… not after all of the stupid things he'd done. He would go back to California, and even though he wouldn't forget Kurt and his own heart would be broken, he could at least stop breaking Kurt's heart.


	84. Constant Craving

Author's note: This chapter was SOOO hard to write. I wrote about fifty drafts of it and I am so thankful for my Beta. I had a completely different plan for it, but then this worked a little better so I'm going with this. It's a lot of the stuff that goes on in Blaine's head. Sorry if the ending sounds really bad... I struggled with that the most. But, anyway, I have a new plan for how this story should end and I'm putting something that would have been in this story in the sequel, so as of now I'm planning for three more chapters for this story. And then it'll be over. So... yeah.

kathrynevie21: Aww I loved my last chapter. This one was pretty brutal but I think my last chapter was alright. Getting inside of Blaine's head in this chapter was really hard because he's so miserable... he just needs someone to tell him that it's okay :D I LOVE Kurt's aunt! They have very similar personalities and she's like a little bubble of sarcasm and happiness XD Um... I don't know about the Blaine and Finn issue yet. I'm thinking that I won't just because I want Kurt to be happy with just having Blaine back. He doesn't really need to know who exactly Blaine slept with, so right now I'm doubting it. And this chapter kind of answers your question about Blaine moving back to Ohio :) I sent in my first application form during my college visit! :O I'm so nervous... but the best part of my college visit was walking by a guy's dorm room and seeing that he had a sign on his door that said "My name is orgy." I kind of laughed a lot XD

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: Thanks! I can't believe it's been a year already :D This chapter was IMPOSSIBLE to write but THEY GET TOGETHER AT THE END. It's kind of choppy and I don't like it but at least they're back together. Is it like six days until you see McFly now? :D

deshaunwalker: Don't worry, I handled it! :D Blaine finally understands what Kurt's been trying to tell him for two years XD

* * *

Blaine stepped down the stairs with his hands in his pockets, his eyes drifting over the photos on the walls, many of Kurt and Finn as babies, but some of them as they got older. Kurt was alone in a few of them, but several of them had Blaine. Blaine was kissing a giggling Kurt's cheek, holding him so tight in their prom pictures, pressing their faces together. Both of them looked so happy, Kurt's eyes glittering as he clung to Blaine, and Blaine holding him just as tightly, a relaxed expression on his face.

He'd forgotten what it felt like to be relaxed, and he was reminded by those pictures. He walked deeper into the living room and stared at the biggest photo placed on the fireplace, one with a frame that had the word _family_ engraved on it. It was one of Burt and Carole standing in the middle, with Finn off to the side, and Blaine and Kurt with their arms wrapped around each other.

"Family," he whispered, brushing the dust off of the frame. "I'm not." Turning away from the picture, Blaine strode toward the kitchen and walked outside where people were still celebrating. A game of limbo had started off to the side of the lawn, which almost made Blaine smile. Almost. He kept going until he found Burt standing with his wife, and Burt grinned at him and rubbed the top of his head.

"There he is," Burt pulled Blaine close to him, despite Blaine's want to keep his distance. "I was worried you'd left. Are you having a good time? You look upset."

"I'm not upset," Blaine took a step to the side. "But I do have to leave. Thank you for inviting me."

Burt frowned, looking sincerely wounded, "Blaine, you're family. Of course I want you here. You didn't even need invited… you know you're always welcome here. Can I walk you out… or did you drive with Santana?"

Blaine thought he might cry if Burt followed him, so he muttered, "I'll just go get Santana. Bye, Burt."

He quickly whipped around and got a few steps away, but he was stopped when a massive hand grabbed his shoulder. He was tugged against a warm, hard chest, and Burt gently rubbed his back. "Blaine… I know this isn't the time or place, and I know I've said this to you a thousand times before, but I love you like my own son. You _are_ my son. You mean everything to me… and to this entire family. I don't want to lose you completely… so please call. Skype us. Do something, Blaine, but don't keep quiet for months." Kissing Blaine's forehead, Burt kept standing there, holding a stiff Blaine. Blaine felt hot tears against his cheek, and he wondered if they were his or Burt's. Burt suddenly pulled away and sniffed, tears leaking from his squinted eyes. "If I could have just protected you from whatever hurt you… been a dad to you…"

Blaine yanked away from him, feeling himself snap. He put his hands on his face, "No—" he started to whimper, but was distracted by squealing from a group of girls about a foot away from him. He stumbled away from them, needing a quiet place, and he found that in Burt's protective arms… but he couldn't stay there. He felt safe in those arms, but he knew he wasn't.

Burt glanced at the platform where Carole was turned away, a bouquet of flowers raised above her head. The girls kept squealing, eagerly waiting to see if they'd be the next to get married. Carole tossed them, but her aim was a little off and they flew in the direction of Blaine and Burt. They hit Blaine in the chest, and he held his hand up and grabbed them before they fell to the ground. His mouth fell open and his eyes darted back up to Kurt's window, then he staggered backwards. "I have to go." He whispered more to himself than Burt, and he ran toward the house.

Throwing himself inside the safety of the house before those girls started asking who he was crushing on and then squealing some more, Blaine covered his face with his hands. He was too aware of Kurt sleeping right above him, and he was too aware of what Burt had said to him, and he was too aware of the fact that he couldn't be attached to this family anymore.

He rushed through the house and sped onto the driveway, and he clumsily got into his car and closed the door behind himself. A few seconds later, Santana strode out of the front door and got in on the driver's side, quickly strapping the babies in behind them. She glanced at the bouquet on his lap, then put the car in drive. "I saw your scene back there." She muttered. "Are you okay?"

Blaine burst into tears and he sank into his seat, feeling the house get farther and farther away from him as Santana drove and drove down the road. "I don't understand what I did wrong!" He yelled into his scarred hands, making the babies fuss. "I could have had everything, and then they took me away from him! I hate them! I hate Karofsky! I hate myself!"

"You don't actually hate yourself." Santana murmured, pulling onto another road. "You wouldn't have let yourself be happy with Kurt if you did. _Now_ you might hate yourself since you're leaving him again, but before you didn't."

Whimpering, Blaine pulled his knees to his chest and made himself as small as possible. Maybe if there was less of him to look at, there'd be less to hate. He was full of too much hate, and it was giving him a headache. He'd been through enough pain for the day… to last an entire year. He didn't need a fucking headache.

Santana sighed at his silence and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him while she drove. She eventually pulled up in front of her house and stepped out, "I have to take Brittany to a doctor so he can see what medication to put her on, so I won't see you when you leave. So… here's a goodbye now."

Blaine shoved his car door open and stepped out, storming up to the house and wandering aimlessly through the living room. He didn't know what to do with himself. He doubted that even going back to California and working with the Warblers would help him now. Sadness was slowly tearing him apart… he could feel himself getting weaker, like he'd been stabbed with a knife. He tried to convince himself that this was his fault, that he was the one who made those stupid mistakes, but he wanted to think that Karofsky was the one who had forced him into this, the one who had poisoned everything good in him.

Stomping up the stairs, Blaine walked into the room he was staying in and he sat down on the edge of his bed. His plane leaved in less than an hour, but he didn't want to leave this spot. It was quiet, and he felt somewhat safe. He'd somehow lived through the wrath of a psychopathic murderer, but somehow the aftermath of what he'd left behind was worse. Now Blaine was seeing it in his past, and he had to watch all of his stupid mistakes over and over again. He wondered if Karofsky knew what he was getting Blaine into when he had beckoned him over the first time they met… and if he had ever thought that what he was doing was wrong.

Getting to his feet, Blaine looked at the bouquet of flowers he'd left on the bed. He thought about pulling one from the bunch and plucking its petals, saying over and over again, "…he loves me, he loves me not…" but Blaine wouldn't be able to get out anything but _he loves me not._ He didn't want Kurt to love this beast.

Leaving the flowers alone, Blaine staggered out of the bedroom and into the hallway, finding a nearby restroom. He closed himself inside and turned the light on, his eyes hesitantly wandering to the mirror. He saw himself, and he looked the same as he always did. Tear-streaked and bruised. He was miserable with his appearance, not because of his looks but because he saw himself. And he didn't like himself.

He tried to piece himself together from before Karofsky had ever possessed him, and he saw a much healthier looking version of himself. He remembered that he used to be tan, while now he was a sickly, pasty color, and his eyes used to be much brighter. He had fuller cheeks back then, and he used to know how to smile. Now he saw a monster, a thin cheeked and dull eyed beast. Reaching up to his hair, Blaine tugged a lifeless piece and it fell across his forehead.

Still looking at himself, Blaine narrowed his eyes and turned his head from side to side, trying to see what Kurt saw in him. But he couldn't. He had no idea what Kurt saw. Blaine was blind to the princely figure Kurt claimed to see, but he clearly saw a monster looking back at him. Lifting his shaking hands, Blaine stared at his scarred palms. Ugly hands. Curling his fingers, Blaine touched one of the scars, but it wasn't sore anymore. It was just a thin line of where a wound had once been. It had healed. Such an ugly thing had healed. It was still a line to show that at one time it'd been a wound, but it didn't hurt anymore.

Such an ugly thing had healed. Looking back up at the mirror, Blaine saw the faintest shimmer in his golden eyes. He remembered that at one time he had bright eyes. Closing his eyes, Blaine let the tear flirt with his lashes then drop off his cheek. He opened his eyes again and he gazed at himself, never blinking or glancing away. Another strand of hair fell across his face, and he remembered that Kurt used to tell him that he had beautiful hair. Karofsky hadn't ever liked it, but Kurt had.

Touching his hair again, Blaine swallowed thickly and shuddered. Such an ugly thing had healed. He also remembered Kurt telling him that he loved his kisses so much, and Blaine wondered why, if it was because his mouth was warm or that he tasted good. Such an ugly thing had healed. Suddenly, he heard Santana bang on the bathroom door, startling him from his trance. "Blaine, you have to pack your stuff! I'm leaving now… I can't do it for you. You have to be at the airport in twenty minutes."

Blaine turned back to the mirror, and he suddenly didn't see something completely awful. He remembered all of Kurt's kisses to his lips—_all_ of them—and how pleasured he seemed by Blaine's kisses. He always blushed after they parted, and sometimes he giggled, and sometimes he closed his eyes and pressed their lips again. And he remembered when Kurt had cut off Blaine's mass of hair that dangled past his chin, and how he had teased him and compared him to One Direction instead of insulting him, saying his hair made him look like a fag, that it was too curly, that it was too short, that it was too dark. Kurt loved his hair, loved tangling his fingers in it and smoothing it when they laid in bed together. He couldn't keep his little hands off of it, and when he threaded his fingers through Blaine's curly mane, Blaine was always so pleasured.

A small smile curved Blaine's lips, but just a tiny one. He remembered Kurt, everything about him. He remembered how he loved when Blaine rolled on top of him and kissed him slowly, how he would always screech with happiness when Blaine made him breakfast-in-bed. How he loved holding Blaine's hand, no matter how disgusting it was. How he was so cheerful about everything, even when he should have been sad. He remembered how he would make kissy face at Pavarotti and Everett, then burst into laughter. He remembered the way his nose scrunched when he was excited, and how he always clapped his hands and hopped up and down. He remembered the teary look on his face when Blaine had proposed, one of no resentment or disgust toward Blaine, just a deep and passionate love no matter what Blaine had done in his past.

Blaine jerked away from the mirror, his hand covering his mouth. "That's how Kurt sees me…" he whispered, finally understanding after nearly two years. He saw how Kurt saw him, and he was surprisingly _beautiful._ He wasn't a beast and he didn't have a temper and he liked to smile at Kurt. He wasn't Karofsky's puppet… Karofsky had nothing to do with it, and Kurt didn't ever think of Karofsky. He was just Blaine, the man who was getting better with Kurt's loving touch. Sobbing into his hands, Blaine sank to the floor and he shoveled his hands into his hair. He was a part of a family, but he'd probably lost it. All of them loved him, didn't quite see him how Kurt saw him, but none of them thought of him as Karofsky's. He was just Blaine, the man they wanted to get better.

Gasping, Blaine ran out of the bathroom and he picked up his phone, quickly dialing a number. After a few rings, a man picked up, "Who's this?"

"Where is Quinn?" he demanded, scratching his stubbly face.

The man took a few seconds to reply, "Hey… babe, some guy is on the phone for you."

There was a shuffling sound, and then Quinn harshly snapped, "What the fuck do you want? I told you not to bother me when I leave home."

"I'm leaving you." He said without much affair. "I want our marriage to be over. Tell Beth I said I'm sorry… but I—" What was he actually going to do? Go back there and claim he had a change in heart so suddenly? Kurt had been trying to do that for almost two years.

She interrupted him before he could come up with an idea of what he wanted to do, "Whatever. I was going to leave you, anyway. I met another guy who said he'd take care of me, even with my baggage. And he's actually straight." After a few seconds, she said, "And, Blaine, just so you don't get bragging rights… we were never actually married. I didn't get a chance to send the forms in, so I was never your wife. Don't tell people I was. I don't want to be made fun of for fucking around with a gay guy."

He tried to not be bothered by her insults, "I don't want you to get hurt the way I did, so try to get your life together… for your daughter, at least." Before she could snap back at him, he clicked the call off and went back into the bedroom.

Could he actually go home? Would they want him there, after all the damage he'd done to that family? If he knew one thing for sure, even if they rejected him, he couldn't leave Kurt like this. He had to know if he still loved him no matter what… and if he would ever be willing to kiss him again.

* * *

Blaine pulled up outside of his house, doubting himself and thinking that he'd gone absolutely crazy. He was terrified of being rejected, or worse… breaking Kurt's heart _again,_ but this was what he wanted, to stay in Kurt's arms, to be with this family. To be in this family. He watched a couple of people walk out with Burt and Carole, getting into their car and driving away. After they left, Burt and Carole looked up and furrowed their brows at his car. Forced to get out even if he wasn't ready, Blaine walked around to the back and opened the door. His little birds skittered onto his hand and up to his shoulder, and he reached down to grab his babies.

"Blaine?" Carole whispered, touching her fingers to her mouth. "Shouldn't you be on a plane? What are you doing here, sweetie?"

Burt narrowed his eyes at Blaine, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Blaine walked up to the two of them and he hesitated, his eyes huge. He didn't know what to say or do, how to explain that he finally realized what they'd been trying to knock into his hard head for the past two years. "I love you guys," was the only thing he whispered, and Carole's eyes filled with tears.

She bundled him in her arms, stroking his back and hair. This time Blaine didn't stiffen or try to get away from the physical contact. It was hard for him when most of the people who reached out for him usually meant to hurt him. But he stayed in her arms. "Oh, sweetie, we love you, too. Look at you." He winced at the coming criticism, but to his surprise she murmured, "You've turned into a handsome man, Blaine."

Burt wrapped his arm around him, "Welcome home, kiddo." Pulling Blaine toward the house, he muttered, "You want to party outback with my drunkard friends? They're just staying for the beer."

Blaine shook his head, looking up at Kurt's window. "No… I might in a little bit."

Burt saw where he was staring and backed off a little, "Do what you have to, kiddo."

Blaine stepped away from them and walked into his house, his eyes wide as he climbed the stairs. He got to the top floor eventually, and he pushed open Kurt's door without knocking. Kurt was still curled up on his bed, burrowed under the blankets and hugging his pillow. His cheeks were flushed and he was smiling. Trembling, Blaine walked up to his sleeping form and he pulled off his clothes, not wanting Kurt to think that he ever left. He slid in beside of Kurt, who murmured and wiggled closer to him. "Mm… Blaine…" he sighed, wrapping him in his arms.

"Shh…" Blaine smoothed his hair, kissing the top of his head. Kurt's lashes fluttered and he sighed, nuzzling even closer to Blaine.

Kurt closed his eyes again and rested on Blaine's chest, "It feels so good to wake up in your arms." He whispered, kissing Blaine's nipple.

Blaine laid his head back on the soft pillow, guilty for coming back to Kurt. He didn't understand what was going on inside of his head. For a moment he thought that he should have just left Kurt and not come back… maybe Kurt would have been better off without him. He could have married a loving man without the past of Blaine, someone who could have adopted children with him, bought him a cute, little house and let him decorate every room, and made him so happy every day. Blaine knew that he was selfish for coming back. Blowing out heavily, Blaine smoothed Kurt's hair and whispered, "Aren't you upset that I've slept with other men?"

"Of course I am." Kurt pressed another kiss to Blaine's chest, "I cried for days about it. But I'm not mad at you… I can't be mad at you."

Blaine sighed again, rubbing his hand up and down Kurt's back, "I'm sorry, Kurt." Shaking his head, Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose, "I've… made so many mistakes and I've broken your heart, but you're still here in my arms. And you know that I've almost married someone else."

Kurt's head lifted from his chest, "Almost?" He peeped, curling his fingers in the mat of hair on Blaine's chest. "I thought you did."

"No," Blaine shook his head. "I left her… and she told me that she never sent the documents in. I was never married to her."

"Why did you leave her?" Kurt's eyes were wide as he stared into Blaine's eyes. Blaine reached up and cupped the side of his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "Because of me?"

Blaine looked away from him, and he felt Kurt's tiny hand wrap around his, "You're wearing your wedding ring I gave you. Does that mean…" Kurt's soft voice faded away, and he kissed the band of his ring, "you want to marry me?"

Swallowing thickly, Blaine thought about what Kurt said. Of course he wanted to marry him, but Kurt was right… things had changed between them. Blaine had hurt Kurt, and he was happy to just be lying in bed with him. He could never expect Kurt to want to marry him again.

Kurt said nothing for a long time, his lips against the wedding ring. After a few minutes, Kurt lifted his head and he grabbed Blaine's face. He squished his cheeks and smiled, "I'd like to marry you… if you still want me."

Blaine's eyes opened wide, and he stared up at Kurt. Kurt didn't look unhappy or like he was fighting with himself on what he just said. He was just smiling, two dimples popped and his eyes shimmering. Suddenly giggling, Kurt slipped his engagement ring off and he handed it to Blaine. "You should be a gentleman and ask me."

Blaine took the ring between his fingers and stared at it as if he didn't know what it was, then he looked at Kurt's finger. Still shocked that Kurt actually wanted to be with him again, Blaine mumbled, "Of course I still want you… but what if you regret it? I've made mistakes."

Kurt's eyes glittered with tears, "I won't regret it. You're the man I love… no matter what you've done."

A small smile tugged his lips and he whispered, "Kurt… marry me?"

Kurt laughed again and he held his hand out, smiling as Blaine slid the ring back onto his finger. "Yes… I love you, Blaine."

"I love you, Kurt." Blaine breathed out heavily, looking up from the ring he had just claimed Kurt with to his blushing face. "I love you." He said again, realizing that Kurt wouldn't have been happy if Blaine had stayed away from him. He wanted Blaine, scars and all. "I love you."


	85. Begin Again

Author's note: Yeah, I wrote this in two hours :P the feels are back and I was excited to write them. I just... can't even... Klaine. They're my babies. I've been waiting to bring the feels back for about twenty one chapters now. I think that's right? Really bad at math... like... REALLY :P But, anyway, THE FEELS. And happy!Blaine. He smiles more than two times in this chapter. So... HAPPY!BLAINE. I can't say that about Kurt, because he's always happy. My little Kurt :D

SPOILER TIME. Another wedding planning chapter next... I don't know what they'll be doing exactly. If you want them to plan something specific you can review or PM me about it :) and then... last chapter... THE WEDDING. I don't even know. It'll just be intense. I'm going to be Googling a lot about weddings for the next few days... or however long it takes me to write that chapter. If you want something special to happen at the wedding, just PM or review. I usually try to add all suggestions.

deshaunwalker: Aww! Isn't Klaine just adorable? They're so precious as a couple. And Quinn is gone. Just... completely. She'll never be back. I love my Keegie :) it's just hard to write him right now because he's not good with English so he's going to stay pretty quiet for a while. But he's still there! In my mind he is GORGEOUS. I kind of want to compare him to Alex Pettyfer... before he shaved his head. But... wooo... Team Keegan :)

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I can't believe your other stories haven't updated! I could never stop writing and always be happy :P Just forget about schoolwork and write XD it's so much better! I don't even understand marathons! I barely got through gym class... I passed out every time I ran. Not athletic at all XD But woooo for concerts!

* * *

Kurt skimmed through the fluffy gowns featured as being in that season, and he pulled a pink one from its hanger. Bouncing up and down, he swung it around and held it up to Santana's body. "I like this one!" She took it from him and frowned at the puffy sleeves and the many layers of skirts, putting it back while he kept eagerly looking through them.

"You also liked the last fifty we looked at." She grabbed a dark purple dress and pulled it from a hanger, then took it over to a dressing room. She slipped behind the curtain and he heard her unzipping her jeans. "I told you I'm not wearing anything pink, or yellow, or glittery, or with puffy sleeves. Let Santana buy her own dress."

He grabbed a mint green, short dress from the pile and turned it this way and that, "I found something green!" He squeaked, not at all discouraged by her dislike of any of his likes.

She walked out of the dressing room, adjusting the bottom of the purple dress. "Do you want me to look like a watermelon? Santana Lopez doesn't do green." Turning in a circle in front of a mirror, she grinned from ear to ear, "But Santana Lopez does look good in purple. Can't I wear this to your wedding?"

"Sure!" He hurried over to the shoes and searched their assortment for something to match the dress. "What about these high heels? They're strappy, which will go with the hourglass shape."

"Oh, those are perfect." She took them from him and happily admired them. "This will give me an excuse to get a pedicure. Good choice, Kurt. I'm so glad I chose to go with you instead of Blaine. I wonder how him and Keegan are doing over in the men's department. Want to go check on them?"

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "Oh, no. I don't want to see Blaine in his tuxedo before the wedding. I want to be surprised! I like surprises." Looping his arm through hers, he said, "We can go get facials, manicures, and pedicures after this… but first I have to look at veils. Preferably veils attached to tiaras."

Santana burst into laughter, "You really are eccentric, aren't you?" Walking with Kurt over to the other side of the store, Santana pointed out a section of veils, "Look, there they are."

Kurt noisily gasped and bounced on his toes, "They're so pretty! I want to buy all of them! I don't even know where to start." Hurrying over to the veils, Kurt picked up a white one with a white rose attached to it. "Oh, I love shopping but I can never decide!" He put that one back and lifted a plain, white one and held it up to his face. "I like this one… how it comes down at an angle."

Santana looked over her shoulder when she heard footsteps, and she saw a blond boy walk around a stack of veils. Blaine was right on his heels, and it took Kurt about two seconds to panic and hide behind a few dresses. "Don't look at me!" He peeped, peering between two of the dresses.

Blaine seemed startled by Kurt's rejection, and he tried looking past the dresses. "Honey? Are you okay?"

"He has a veil on." Santana explained, crossing her arms. "He doesn't want you to see him in it."

Kurt took it out of his hair and hid it behind his back, then he wandered back out and stood beside Santana. "How did your shopping go?" He peeped, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Blaine and Keegan still both appeared extremely confused, but Blaine shook it off and said, "It was fine, baby. I bought my shoes…" he lifted the bag in his hand to prove it. "I ordered my tuxedo. Keegan bought a few things."

Looping his arm through Santana's again, Kurt said, "Santana and I are going to get facials, pedicures, and manicures. Do you think you and Keegan could do something for a little while?"

Blaine looked at Keegan, then back at Kurt, "Yeah… we'll go get lunch. Do you want me to drop you off at the salon?"

"That'd be so nice of you!" Kurt bounced again, then he remembered the veil behind his back. "I'll be right back… I have to buy this. It'll go perfectly with my dress." He started to skip past them, but Blaine quickly reached out and caught Kurt by his waist. Kurt instantly knew what he wanted, and he kissed Blaine on the mouth. "I love you."

"Mm…" Blaine nuzzled Kurt's cheek, kissing everywhere he could find skin. They'd been apart for months, and Blaine was making up for that lack of touch in full. He was surprised Kurt was still able to walk. "I love you so much."

"That's enough of that," Santana frowned, curling her lip. "Seriously… he'll be away from you for, like, three minutes."

"I go mad every time he's out of my arms," Blaine watched Kurt scamper away, almost bouncing across the store. The sight of his happiness made Blaine smile. He didn't know how he'd gotten through ten months without him. Having him again made Blaine realize just how in love with Kurt he was. "Our wedding is eight days away. I'm _never_ letting him go on the honeymoon."

She rolled her eyes, but somewhere deep down she was happy for Blaine. She hadn't seen him this lively or excited in months. "With how much you guys are doing it now, I don't even want to imagine what your honeymoon will be like." She pointed at Keegan, "I'll bet you ten bucks that they break the bed by the third day."

Keegan, who was slowly getting better at his English, chuckled under his breath. Blaine snorted at her, "We haven't done it that much, San. He's been planning the wedding."

"Oh, please." She pushed him away. "You're like a hormonal, teenage boy. When I came to your house the other day, he was working on invitations and you were humping his leg and giving his neck a hickey. You'll definitely break the bed."

To her surprise, Blaine's face turned bright red. She couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed. He seemed relieved when Kurt waddled over to them, a bag full of his veil swinging at his wrist. Catching Kurt in his arms, Blaine tugged him close and bit his ear lobe, tugging it. Kurt squealed and giggled at the unexpected affection, and he turned his head and gave Blaine another kiss. Santana bet that if they had been alone, Blaine would have pinned Kurt to a wall and humped him right then and there.

Holding Blaine close to him, Kurt snuggled into his chest and murmured, "Santana, do you want to go now? I should probably get my hair done while we're at the salon…" he reached up and touched his messy locks.

Keegan lifted his head and looked at Blaine, "Another two hours?" He said with a very thick French accent.

Blaine grinned and nodded, "Yeah, that means another two hours."

Helplessly giggling, Kurt kissed Blaine's neck, "It's a good thing you love me so much."

Blaine laughed and ducked for another kiss, but Santana quickly broke them apart. "Oh, come on! You already made out, like, three times. Kurt, we're walking ten feet in front of them." Dragging Kurt away from Blaine, Santana heard him laughing and she turned her head to see him looking back at Blaine, his cheeks glowing and his smile absolutely breathtaking. His eyes were glittering with happiness. She glanced back at Blaine and saw him with the same expression, his eyes stuck on Kurt. Wrapping an arm around him, she said, "I'm happy for you, Kurt."

Kurt looked at her with huge, blue eyes, and she thought he was very beautiful. She could see why everyone absolutely loved and adored him. "I'm happy for me, too!" Clapping his hands, Kurt giggled and did a little dance, almost tipping over in his high heels. He quickly righted himself after a moment of wobbling and squeaked, "I'm getting married to the most handsome man in eight days!" He hopped up and down and she heard Blaine making a soft noise behind them.

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that he was chuckling, his neck and cheeks flushed. She'd never seen him look that way before, completely happy. It was almost like he'd never, ever been miserable. And even though Kurt was usually a happy person, she'd also never seen him do little dances and spins and laugh so much. They seemed so perfect for each other.

* * *

Blaine stopped the car in front of the salon, and he reached back for his fiancé. Kurt giggled, leaning forward to get a kiss from Blaine. "I'll see you in a few hours! I love you." He squeaked, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck from behind. He kissed Blaine's neck. "Have fun. Bye, Keegan!"

Blaine was reluctant to let go of Kurt, while Keegan waved at him. Kissing Kurt's cheek again, Blaine whispered in his ear, "I love you."

Squealing, Kurt hopped out of the car and ran up to the salon. Santana was right on his heels, and they watched Blaine pull away, already in a conversation with Keegan, who looked to be struggling to understand what he was saying. Swishing into the salon, Kurt hummed to himself and walked up to the counter. Santana looked at the woman standing there, "Can we get the full package? His wedding is coming up so make him look fantastic."

The woman smiled at Kurt, "Congratulations. Follow me… we'll start with the pedicures." She lead Kurt and Santana back to a couple of vibrating chairs, and Kurt giggled when he sat down and it started shaking him.

"It tickles!" Kicking his feet, Kurt put them in a bucket of steaming water. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, "I love wedding treatment. I feel so pampered."

Santana laughed and reached for one of the magazines, "So, what are you doing for your wedding… like, location and the honeymoon and food. I can't believe you and Blaine are trying to prepare for the wedding in just three weeks. Isn't it really stressful?"

Kurt shook his head, "I try to not get stressed out. It's bad for the skin. And Blaine is relaxed as long as I am. It's going to be a very small wedding at home… and my dad is letting us use things from his wedding. We won't have that many guests. And I have no idea about the honeymoon!" He opened his eyes, "Blaine is taking care of that and he won't tell me where we're going. I like surprises but not this one! I have to know. Hawaii is a very common honeymoon spot but I sunburn so easily. And of course there's Alaska… but I don't like walking through the snow. It ruins my shoes. Oh, where would Blaine want to go?"

"I have no idea." Santana honestly said. "That's the problem with Blaine… he doesn't tell you anything. He hasn't even told me. He's too good at keeping his mouth shut."

Tapping his chin, Kurt thought about any hints Blaine might have given him, or if he'd seen him looking up locations online, but he remembered none of that. He was distracted from guessing what Blaine's favorite vacation spot might be when a woman approached them and knelt between their feet. "Are you the boy getting married?" she asked Kurt, and he nodded with a smile.

The woman grinned and took his feet from the bucket of water, "He's very lucky. The first thing I noticed about you was how beautiful you are."

"Oh, thank you!" Kurt squeaked, trying not to get tickled when she stuck a toe separator between his toes. He sat back again and felt her swipe his toenails with a clear gloss. He closed his eyes but kept smiling, unable to take it from his lips. He'd never been this happy. He couldn't wait to go home and be with his future husband.

* * *

Kurt sat down on the couch with an invitation on his lap, his birds pacing on the coffee table in front of him. They were walking on his drying invitations that he'd just decorated with sparkles and ribbons. Glue and glitter stuck to their little feet, making a mess when they tracked it onto the table. Kurt didn't mind at all. The more sparkly, the better.

He heard Blaine walk out of the kitchen and he sighed when Blaine sat down next to him, handing him a glass of warm milk. "Mm… thank you. This is just what I needed." He started sipping on the milk, but stopped when Blaine pulled him onto his lap and stuck his hands down his dress. He rubbed Kurt's shoulders, making him purr.

"Are you getting tired?" He murmured, nibbling the nape of Kurt's neck. "Let me write the invitations for a while, but first let me make you feel better."

Kurt blushed at his wording, and he snuggled into Blaine's chest, "You're amazing with your hands. This feels wonderful."

Blaine slid his hands deeper into Kurt's dress, almost reaching down to the top of his panties. Kurt squeaked and stiffened, but Blaine soothed him with a kiss, "Nobody's going to see. They're all asleep." Licking the side of Kurt's neck, he whispered, "Do you want to go take a bath then lay down? Santana bet that you and I are going to break the bed over our honeymoon. I want to see if I can accomplish that now."

Kurt suddenly got very nervous, so he pushed Blaine away, "Speaking of our honeymoon, I'd like to know where we're going, Mr. Hush-hush."

Blaine laughed and kissed the tip of his nose, "That's for me to know and you to find out, Mr. Nosy. I know you'll like it there. It's perfect for you. Now can I take you upstairs?" Without waiting for Kurt to answer, Blaine got to his feet and swung Kurt over his shoulder, holding onto his bottom.

Kurt tried not to squeal, but it was so hard not to make a sound of surprise. Laughing, Kurt grabbed the back of his shirt and slid his thumb through one of Blaine's belt loops. "_Blaine!_"

Blaine started laughing as he walked up the stairs, "Just hold onto me tight." Kurt did as he was told, wrapping his hands around Blaine's sides. Blaine had missed feeling his hands on him. He had missed hearing him say his name. And it was all amazing.


	86. The Way I Loved You

IMPORTANT author's note: I'm not that big a fan of this chapter -.- I kind of just turned out... bleh... but whatever. My next chapter will be better :) I hope... depends on what you guys think. Also, even though I'll probably put this in my next author's note as a reminder, ONE MORE CHAPTER OF OUT. And then that's it. Story is over. JK. There will be a sequel. Yaaaaay sequel. It should be up on my profile page at least a few days after I finish Out and it will be titled Courage. For those of you wondering what it will be about, I can tell you that it will be a story about the babies... basically. Pretty much. Kind of. It will have severe scenes of child abuse so if you don't like that, just call it quits with this story and don't read my next one. But, anyway, I feel like I've covered everything. Pretty much. I'll probably go back later when I'm not as lazy and edit out grammatical mistakes and continuation errors, because there's no one more aware of that stuff than me. But I'm just too lazy to fix it right now. Okay. Enough of the author's note. No spoilers on this chapter... you guys already know what's coming.

P.S. For everyone on TeamKeegan (I've gotten a few reviews from fangirls for him) he is back in this chapter. And he's his good old romantic Keegie. So yeah. He reminds me a lot of Romeo from Romeo & Juliet... he's kinda hot (in my head) :P This chapter title is for Keegie and his one true love, but it's also for Klaine before Kurt went away :'(

kathrynevie21: I put the vow suggestion in! :D My Beta had brought that up a while ago so I'm happy that at least two people like the idea! Now I just need to come up with some romantic vows... Um... you'll have to wait until the sequel to find out where they'll be Klaineymooning :) Wow... that just... kind of failed :P

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I love it when the words just write themselves and I can write chapters in two hours, but unfortunately for this one they did not :( so here comes the awkward wording and choppy scenes lol. I don't even know when I have exams :P I always study the week before. Somehow I'm not failing any of my classes... :O AHHHHH your concert is so close! Yay!

deshaunwalker: Aww thanks! And my above ^ author's note explains where I'm going with this story. IT WILL NEVER END. Seriously... I think I'm going to be writing this until I'm a junior in college, and I'm a junior in high school right now -.-

* * *

Kurt slipped into a thin, see-through nightgown and he padded out of his bathroom, his birds waddling on his heels. Letting them hop onto his feet, Kurt pushed open his bedroom door and gasped at the sight of Blaine lying on his bed, nose buried in a wedding magazine, his dark brows furrowed and lips pressed together. Biting his bottom lip, Kurt shivered when he spotted the empty spot beside of Blaine, a spot meant just for him. He must have made a soft sound because Blaine glanced up from the magazine, and his eyes widened at what Kurt was wearing. Blaine unconsciously stuck his tongue out and licked his bottom lip, making Kurt giggle. Bunching his dress in two tiny fists, he whispered, "Can you hold me?"

Blaine almost threw the wedding magazine aside, and he held his arms open. Kurt crawled onto the end of the bed and curled up in Blaine's strong arms, his skin hot and hard to the touch. Nuzzling into Blaine's chest, Kurt tucked his head under Blaine's chin, his stubble scratching Kurt's forehead. "What were you looking at?"

Turning his head, Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's head, taking a moment to breathe in his sweet hair. After he focused again, he muttered, "I was reading an article on gay weddings." When Kurt looked up at him, he shrugged, "I've only been to straight weddings. I don't know if there's a certain way to do it… if we should both walk up the aisle, what our processional should be—"

Kurt's nose wrinkled with a delighted giggle. He was happy Blaine wanted to be involved in planning the wedding. Stroking Blaine's scratchy cheek, he pressed a kiss to his nose, "It can be whatever we want. It's our wedding! My dad wants to give me away to you, so would you be okay with me walking up the aisle and you waiting at the end?"

"Of course." He pressed a kiss to Kurt's hair. "Sweetheart, whatever you want. I just… I'm so nervous. I've screwed up so many times before. I've made the biggest mistakes, and it'd be just like me to panic in the middle of our first song if people were staring at us. I don't want to ruin this for you."

"You won't." Kurt promised, not a bit of doubt in his voice. "Blaine… this is our wedding. It'll be the happiest day for us. People will be looking at you, but they'll be thinking how handsome you are and how lucky I am to have you."

A small smile curved Blaine's lips, and he sighed and pressed his forehead to Kurt's. "You know how to make me feel better."

Closing his eyes, Kurt cuddled into Blaine's chest and felt his hands sliding up his dress, cupping his bottom and rubbing his lower back. It was so pleasuring, but he could feel roughness on Blaine's palms, chunks of skin torn off his palms that made little grooves. He glanced over his shoulder and eyed Blaine's pale hands, unaware of Blaine noticing him doing it. Blaine quickly took his hands away and tucked them under his thighs, "I-I'm sorry… was I hurting you?"

Kurt knew he didn't mean from squeezing too hard, but from the harshness of his ripped up skin rubbing Kurt's delicate back and bottom. "No." Without thinking about what he was doing, Kurt held his hand out. He knew he was touching a hard subject for Blaine and he didn't want him to withdraw… he just had to see them.

Blaine hesitantly laid his hand in Kurt's, his palm up. It was very easy to see that his clawing had gotten worse while Kurt was away, his palms uneven with red splotches bursting under the thick lines. Shuddering, Blaine started to close his palm, but Kurt held onto it. He brushed his fingers over one of the scars and Blaine's fingers twitched. "What was it like… without me?" He kept rubbing the scars, his fingertips very gentle.

"I thought I was going to die," Blaine said without much affair, and even though that filled Kurt's eyes with tears, he wasn't surprised by it. "I felt like something was suffocating me. I couldn't sleep or eat. I—" he suddenly shut his mouth and put a hand over it. "I can't tell you all of the horrible things I've done."

A single tear ran down Kurt's cheek, and Blaine lifted his hand that was in Kurt's and wiped it away. Sniffing, Kurt whispered, "Was it easy for you… getting in bed with those other men?"

Blaine physically stiffened, his entire body becoming as hard as a statue. After what felt like a few minutes, his throat moved with a swallow. "I didn't orgasm until we slept together at your dad's wedding." He didn't exactly say that he'd been with other men. "It was never easy. I wasn't looking for pleasure… well, I was. But… it was my way of pretending you were still there, by being touched and cared for by—" his voice broke off. "But they never cared for me the way you do."

Another tear dripped off of Kurt's nose, "Oh… Blaine." He lifted his damaged hand and pressed a wet kiss to his palm. "It's okay… I can care for you now. I'm home and I won't leave you again."

"That's w-why I clawed myself." Blaine turned his head into the pillow, taking his hands away from Kurt and balling them up into fists. Kurt wrapped his small hands around them and stroked the knuckles. "Because I was disgusting. I cheated on you and I can't take that b-back. I slept with Finn."

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and at first he pulled away from Blaine, "What?"

Blaine shook his head, "I'm so sorry. I was out of my mind and he kissed me and then…" his weepy voice faded away, and he noisily sniffled. "I wanted to pretend it was you… but it wasn't. No one can ever replace you, and I regretted it as soon as I did it."

"Blaine…" Tears spilled from Kurt's eyes. He was having trouble understanding. Wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck, Kurt laid his cheek on Blaine's back. "It'll be okay. I can see how sorry you are. It's okay."

Blaine shook his head, his entire body shivering so hard that the mattress was shaking. "It's not. I hurt you—"

"I am hurt," Kurt admitted in a soft whisper, unable to say that he wasn't. "But… look at me. Blaine, please." Pulling Blaine up, Kurt stared at his wet face and he kissed both of his cheeks, "But that's what a relationship is. We have to say we're sorry to each other and then forgive what went wrong. And I do forgive you… I'll forgive you a thousand times if that will make you feel better. I love you so much. Besides… I wouldn't be able to let you go again."

Swallowing thickly, Blaine pressed his damp face to Kurt's neck, "Why…?" He whispered, kissing all over Kurt's neck.

"Why what?" Kurt tangled his fingers in Blaine's curls, gently stroking them until they were tame.

Blaine whimpered, "Why are you mine?"

A little smile curved Kurt's lips, "I'm yours because I fell in love with you." Tugging Blaine down to him, Kurt lay back on a pillow and rubbed his lips against Blaine's. "Are you happy to be marrying me, Blaine?"

A tear fell from Blaine's eye and dropped to Kurt's cheek, and he kissed it away, "I'm going to be holding you in my arms… in just two days… as my husband. And then nothing will take you away from me." His eyes widened, "Promise me you won't regret it."

Kurt weepily giggled, pressing his face to Blaine's shoulder. Blaine rolled them over so Kurt was on top of him, and he stared down at his smiling face. His eyes were shimmering with tears, his cheeks streaked with silver, and his lips puffy. He looked beautiful. "Let's look at flowers for our wedding." was the only thing Kurt whispered, and Blaine helplessly smiled, realizing that Kurt was trying to tell him that he wouldn't regret it. "Roses would be so pretty. It's such a romantic flower."

Blaine kissed Kurt on the mouth, and Kurt squeaked and wrapped his arms around him.

* * *

Kurt scooted onto the couch beside of Keegan, who was intently watching a football game his dad had left on. Curling his legs underneath him, Kurt picked up his pen and paper. He tapped the pen against his mouth, and Keegan looked up at him. "What are you up to?" He asked, moving closer to Kurt.

"Mm…" Kurt leaned into his side and smiled, "Blaine and I want to write our own vows for the wedding. It's not that I don't have anything to say… I have too much to say." Scribbling down Blaine's name to start with, Kurt frowned at his work so far, "What if he says something so romantic… like _my sweetheart?_ Should I say _my love_ instead? But what if he just says my name? Then I should say his, shouldn't I?"

Keegan laughed at his problem, "Put down both and have him read his first."

"That's a very good idea." Writing down the endearment for Blaine, Kurt tapped his pen on the next line and whispered, "Keegan, what should I do? I'm so confused and nervous. These are my vows to Blaine." He put his fingertips to his lips, "When I talk to him, everything comes so easily."

"Maybe you could try winging it." Keegan pulled the pen and paper from his hand before he got too stressed out, "Just talk to him. Tell him how you feel on the spot. You know how you feel about him… you don't have to memorize any cheesy lines to keep your guests amused. Just be open with him."

Kurt looked up at Keegan with wide eyes, "You sound like you've been there before."

Keegan shook his head, suddenly glancing away. His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened, "I was planning on asking Everett to marry me."

"When?" Kurt whispered, getting closer to Keegan.

Blowing out heavily, Keegan reached back and rubbed the nape of his neck, "I know we were young… but I-I knew he was mine. I knew I could never let anyone else have him." His lips pressed together and he blinked his suddenly wet eyes, "I bought the engagement ring the night he was murdered. That's why I let you and him go on a shopping spree for a while… so I could buy that fucking ring."

Kurt's lips parted, but he was absolutely speechless. "Keegan… I'm so sorry. Do you still have it… the ring?"

Keegan immediately reached for his pants pocket, and he pulled out a little ring that, despite how worn it must have been, was in very good shape, not bent at all. It was a simple, light blue band with the words _I love you—K_ written in French on the top of it. "I carry it with me everywhere I go. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. It means everything to me." His eyes filled with tears again and he sniffed, quickly wiping his face with his sleeve. After he got control of himself, he opened Kurt's palm and set the ring in the middle of it. "I'm not going to ever give that to another boy… or marry anyone else… but I want you to give that to Blaine on your wedding day. It can be his second wedding ring. The _K_ was supposed to be my initial, but it can be for your name."

"Oh, Keegan…" Shaking his head, Kurt covered his face with his hand, "I couldn't take this from you… not when it means so much—"

Keegan closed Kurt's tiny fist around it, "I want you to have it. You're the only person I'd ever want to have it. I know you'll take care of it… and I know Blaine will, because it'll be from you." Pulling Kurt to his chest, Keegan rubbed his back and kissed his hair, "I'm so happy for you… you're getting the wedding I've always wanted, with so much love and happiness. Everett would have wanted you to have the ring, too."

Tears swam in Kurt's eyes like rain, not able to be controlled and unable to hide from it. "Thank you," he lifted his head and kissed Keegan's cheek. "You're my best friend and I love you. You didn't deserve this, Keegan."

Keegan shook his head again, trying to grab his crying before it turned into sobbing. "You didn't deserve to be around the man who took him from us. But… it's over now. He's in prison. We're going to be okay, I promise."

Kurt held onto Keegan and he looked at the ring, the one that was meant to be on Everett's finger. He was trying to put himself in Keegan's shoes, see what things would be like if he was ever without Blaine, but it was too painful for him to think about.

* * *

"Go to sleep, Kurt!" His aunt yelled from the kitchen, and Kurt giggled and clung to Blaine's chest, reluctant to let him go. "You need your beauty sleep and you…" she poked her nose out of the kitchen and pointed at Blaine, "need to get out."

Blaine laughed at her unthreatening expression, and he kissed Kurt's cheek, "I have to go, baby. I'll see you in the morning."

Kurt whimpered and got up with Blaine, following him to the door. Keegan and Burt walked over with him, standing back while Kurt and Blaine said their goodbyes. "Where are you going? It's not far from here, is it?"

"It's just a hotel about a block away." Blaine assured him, kissing the tip of his nose. "You won't have any wild bachelor parties while I'm gone, will you?" He teased and wrapped Kurt in his arms, his eyes bright with amusement.

"No," Kurt's aunt said, walking back into the living room with a cookie between her lips. "He's going to sleep."

Kurt smiled at her, then he looked back up at Blaine, "You'll be back in the morning." He asked more than stated, and Blaine nodded. "I'll miss you tonight. I don't like being out of your arms."

Blaine's smile wavered as he was obviously reminded of those long months they'd spent apart, but then he leaned down and kissed Kurt's mouth. "Sleep well, pretty thing. I love you."

Snuggling into Blaine's chest, Kurt whispered, "I love you. We'll be married in the morning and then we never, ever have to let go again." He smiled from ear to ear and let go of Blaine, turning to his dad and Keegan. "I love you both. Goodnight."

"'Night, honey. Rest up good." Burt rubbed his arm through his fuzzy pajamas, and Keegan grinned lovingly at him.

"Bye, Kurt." He waved, and walked out of the door with his dad. Blaine stayed behind for a few more seconds, staring at Kurt, and then he also turned around and left.

Kurt hurried over to the window and watched them get into the car, and after they got in, each of them looked up as if they expected him to be there. All three of them grinned at him, and Kurt waved at them as his dad backed out of the driveway. "Alright, Kurt," his aunt tugged him off the window, "I'm the one doing your makeup in the morning so bed. Now."

Happily running over to the stairs, Kurt squeaked, "Goodnight, Aunt Laurice! I love you!" He blew her a dramatic kiss then hurried up the stairs and ran into his bedroom. Pressing himself to the window, Kurt watched for the car to see if he could still get a glimpse of it, and he saw it turning around the corner.

Pulling himself off the window, Kurt walked over to the baby crib and peeked inside. He saw both of the babies curled around each other and sleeping very quietly, then he went to sit down on his bed. He wanted to sleep, but he wasn't tired at all. He was feeling so many emotions and he was overwhelmed and nervous and absolutely and completely happy. He wanted to call Blaine to see if he was feeling the same way, but he knew his aunt was probably spying on him.

So he curled up under the blankets and anxiously waited for Blaine to come home.


	87. Cough Syrup

Author's note: Hi, guys! Last chapter of Out! Oh my gosh. It's been a little more than a year and it's finally done. First of all, I would like to thank my amazing, unofficial Beta, JMarieAllenPoe, for being perfect. I just love her so much and she's become my best friend and I laugh so much at our spy!Evi crack!fics and I adore everything about her. This entire book is definitely dedicated to her because it seems like she wrote most of it and it probably wouldn't have all of the amazing scenes it does without her. Secondly, thanks to everyone who has ever read/reviewed/alerted/favorited this story. I love all of you for your amazing support, especially when you didn't leave me during the hard times, but I did say I'd make it better :) Thirdly, I will probably be spending the next week or so going over my older chapters and editing out errors I missed the first time, but don't worry. The sequel will be up within two weeks maximum. I'm just a perfectionist and can't handle errors. I think that's about it? I tried to find a picture of Kurt's wedding dress, but I found nothing that looked like it :( If you find a picture that looks like what I described, it'd be nice if you sent a link! :D

Spoiler alerts for overall sequel: It will start out with Klaine on their honeymoon. Klaine will be having fun. Like... lots of fun. Kurt will be dressed up like a bunny... just because I can. Blaine will wear a dress. After the honeymoon, Karofsky will come back pretty quickly. He will be completely insane and want to torture everyone around him. He will want Hunter back. There will be severe scenes of graphic child abuse. Someone gets a severe eating disorder and goes into a depression, and it's not Blaine. Blaine will spend a lot of time with Archer. Cooper will come back and do something that hurts Klaine. Blaine will get desperate when mentioned person's eating disorder gets worse, and he'll ask for something from Cooper. Hunter will not be with Klaine at the end of the story.

ObsessiveGleeSyndrome: I'm having the same reactions you are! :D And after I edit out mistakes (because I can't handle them :P) I GET TO POST THE SEQUEL. I'm as excited about that as you are for McFly... not that I'm not excited for you... because I am! :D

deshaunwalker: Aww thanks! Okay, so obviously my spoilers revealed a lot, and Karofsky will be back but Klaine will never go through what they went through when Kurt went to New York again. Most of the angst will revolve around the babies. They'll be fine for the rest of these stories :D

fah: Thanks! Glad you like the story and stuck through them being separated. I can't wait for the sequel, either! :D

* * *

Kurt rubbed his fluttering lashes with mascara, coating the dark blond with an icy blue tint that complemented his white dress. After his lashes were thick and full, he put his mascara aside and picked up a pink lip gloss. He swiped his lips with the sweet goo, then he pinched his cheeks between his fingers. Roses bloomed under his skin, giving him natural color. He stood on wobbly legs and spritzed his neck and wrists with perfume, then he turned around and looked at the finishing product of his hair, makeup, and dress.

His hair was done up in a neat coif, not a strand out of place, and light blue eye shadow sparkling with glitter wrapped around his bright eyes. His lips were plump and his cheeks were pink, so he was very pleased with his makeup. He looked down at his puffy dress, a sleeveless, ball gown style with a bodice that hugged his hips and stomach and skirts that flared dramatically around his legs, hiding his strappy, diamond heels. The dress shimmered with every move he made. Slipping on a pair of white gloves that came up to his elbows, Kurt touched the front of his dress and he felt tears fill his eyes. He was so happy to be wearing it.

Hearing a knock on his door, Kurt turned around and watched it open, his aunt poking her nose inside. "Sweetie, are you—oh, my gosh. _Kurt._" She stepped further inside, and Burt was right on her heels. "Kurt… look at you."

His dad swallowed thickly and he crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth opening and closing, "You look beautiful, honey." His eyes suddenly filled with tears, and Kurt shook his head, knowing he would cry if someone else started crying. "Just like your mother on our wedding day."

"You can't forget your veil!" His aunt skipped over to his vanity, and she picked up his veil that he had clipped a fake flower onto. She slipped the clip onto his hair so the veil draped halfway over his face, his mouth and chin still visible. Clapping her hand to her mouth, she shook her head. "You look just like Elizabeth. She would have been so proud of you, sweetie." She tried to wrap him in her arms, but couldn't without crushing his dress, so she settled for rubbing his arm. "I'll hug you at the reception when your dress is already worn out and your makeup is faded." Peeling off of him, she said, "I'm going to check on the guys. Good luck, Kurt."

"Thank you," Kurt whispered, his voice very small. He was already feeling the butterflies in his stomach. He wondered if things would change very much, being married to Blaine. They obviously couldn't live at home anymore, so he thought about where they might move to, what kind of job he would get afterward, and how often he would see his family, who he was so close to. He looked back up at his dad, who was still staring at him with distant eyes. "Dad?" He peeped.

Burt finally shook his head, his hand reaching back and rubbing his nape. "I just can't get over how much you look like Elizabeth. You are so beautiful, Kurt." Kurt blushed and hid his face, and his dad shook his head, holding his arms open. "I don't want to give you away today, and I wouldn't if I didn't think that Blaine would take the best care of you."

Kurt's eyes finally blurred with tears, "Oh, Dad. You're not giving me away… I'm still yours." Padding over to his dad, Kurt curled up against his chest. "Thank you… for being the best dad ever."

His dad rubbed his back, "You're going to do fine out there, honey. You've got yourself a good man to take care of you. And if he doesn't I'll punch him in the face."

Kurt sniffed with a giggle, trying not to cry, "Blaine will be so good to me, Dad. I love him so much. I wouldn't let you give me away if it was another man waiting at the end of the aisle."

Burt suddenly sighed heavily and he pulled back from Kurt, holding onto his thin arms, "Are you ready, honey?"

Shaking his head, Kurt weepily smiled and said, "I can't wait to marry him. He's what I want, Dad."

Burt touched his son's back and led him toward the door, and the two of them pushed out of it. Kurt heard chattering from the yard, and soft music playing, and he suddenly got very nervous. "Hold onto me, Dad." He begged, and Burt tightened his grip.

"I've got you," he assured him. "You're doing great. Blaine's just outside that door."

Kurt's bottom lip trembled at the reminder, and he started walking a little faster.

* * *

Blaine took his spot on the platform with Keegan to his right side, and Santana and Laurice off to the left side of the platform. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, trying to get control of himself. He was wondering if this was really happening, when only months ago he thought he wouldn't live. Opening his eyes, Blaine stared at their audience, most of everyone from Kurt's side of the family. A few friends of Blaine's, like Puck and Santana, had showed up, but he didn't know anyone else.

Finn sat in the second row beside of Puck, their fingers twined together. Finn kept his eyes away from Blaine, and Blaine was relieved he wasn't stepping out of boundaries. Kurt's family was gathered around, talking and laughing and smiling. His eyes slid back a few rows and he spotted the guys from the Warblers in the very back row, snorting and whacking each other and turning around and staring at the door. He was startled to see them there, but he was glad they were there.

Running his hand through his hair, Blaine glanced up when he heard the light melody deepen and slow down, and then the door cracked open. His eyes widened and he suddenly felt extremely nervous, but then everything calmed down inside of him when a high heel slipped out of the door. Kurt stepped onto the aisle, and Blaine became breathless. "Beautiful…" Blaine didn't realize he said it aloud, his eyes watching Kurt's every movement.

Kurt's skirts shimmied around his legs and glittered like diamonds, his legs moving a little faster than Burt's, who was holding onto the back of his dress. He was smiling and looking at something, not at the crowd, who all seemed awestruck by his appearance. Everyone was standing, unable to take their eyes off of Kurt. As he got closer to the platform, his smile widened and Blaine realized he was staring at him. Blaine helplessly smiled back, stepping off the platform and holding his hands out. Everyone else was gone, and it was just the two of them.

Giggling, Kurt laid his hands on top of Blaine's, then he looked at his dad. Burt immediately wrapped his arm around Blaine, rubbing his back, "Take good care of my baby, Blaine. I trust you."

Blaine noisily sniffled as his eyes blurred, and he pulled Kurt closer to him, "I promise." Taking Kurt out of his dad's hands, Blaine lifted him onto the platform and returned to his spot, standing opposite of him. He couldn't stop staring at Kurt, seeing his blue eyes bat at him through the veil. "Kurt, you are so beautiful."

Kurt's lips curved into the biggest smile, and he squeezed Blaine's hands. "And you're very handsome."

Blaine moved closer to him and pressed his forehead to Kurt's. He hadn't actually written any vows, too nervous to get the words out. Keeping his voice low so that only Kurt could hear his intimate words, he whispered, "You're my beautiful thing. You _are_ beautiful, but you… you made me better. I still have scars, but they don't hurt anymore." He held up his palms to show Kurt, and Kurt gently started tickling them with his fingers. "I've made horrible mistakes and I know I don't deserve you… but you still love me… despite how ugly my past is. And I love you… and I never want you away from me again. I promise that as long as you want me around… I will do everything to make you happy. I will try not to hurt you or make you cry… but if I do I'll kiss your tears away. I have a temper and I get nervous in front of crowds and I'm not that romantic… but you're too sweet to be angry with… and with you it's like there is no crowd… and I'll do everything I can to romance you, Kurt. I'll bake you cheesecake because I know it's your favorite… and I'll give you roses… and I'll take you shopping… and I'll snuggle with you because I know you like it when I do… and I'll kiss you whenever and wherever you want."

Tears flirted with Kurt's lashes and dripped off the tip of his nose, and Blaine bent to kiss one before it fell. "Blaine…" he whispered, his voice tiny and weak, "I don't know what to say. I was trying to perfect my vows but nothing I say will ever mean as much as what you said."

"Every word you say means everything to me," Blaine murmured, shaking his head.

Closing his eyes, Kurt pressed his forehead to Blaine's and he shakily whispered, "I almost ran out of our bedroom this morning so I could be with you faster. I don't know how we spent ten months apart… every second away from you hurts me. You said that as long as I want you around… but I always want you near me. I'm yours now… and you're mine."

"I'm yours," Blaine pressed kisses to Kurt's cheeks, "and you're mine."

"I want you to kiss me right now," Kurt asked, and Blaine opened his eyes and pulled back a step.

Blaine's lips curved and he wiped his weepy face, then he asked, "You want me to be your husband?"

It reminded Kurt of the first time he proposed, and he giggled and nodded his head. "Yes. _Yes!_"

Suddenly, Burt, who had returned to the doorway and was waiting by it, reached inside the house and gestured for someone to come out. Two little babies toddled out, clumsily tossing flowers around, but mostly at the ground. Their birds followed them, two rings in their mouths. Archer was dragging his teddy bear behind him, and Pavarotti was hopping after it. "Oh!" Bouncing up and down, Kurt patted his fingertips together. "You're such good babies!"

Blaine stepped off the platform and he scooped Archer and Hunter up, letting Pavarotti and Everett climb up his arm. He returned to Kurt and handed him a baby and a bird, and Kurt gently took Blaine's ring from Everett's mouth. "Thank you," he kissed the top of Everett's head, then he turned to Blaine.

Setting Archer down, Blaine reached for Kurt's left hand, and he slipped another ring onto his finger. This one was silver and it had the words _I love you—B_ written on it, and Kurt noticed that it went perfectly with the ring Keegan had given him. Gasping with delight, Kurt lifted Blaine's hand and smiled at the wedding ring he had given him for his birthday. He twisted the new ring onto his finger, and Blaine grinned at it.

Cupping Kurt's cheeks with his hands and lifting his veil, Blaine kissed Kurt's mouth, very deeply and slowly. It made Kurt tremble and stretch onto his toes. Blaine's mouth was so warm and it tasted so good, like spices and mint. The audience started clapping, and Kurt giggled, ruining their passionate moment. Blaine started laughing, his kisses becoming broken, just small touches on Kurt's mouth. "I love you so much," he whispered on Kurt's lips.

Happily smiling, Kurt murmured, "I love you, too."

They both lifted their heads after the applause faded away, but they kept holding each other. It all seemed too good, and Kurt was getting dizzy from smiling too much. "Are you my husband now?"

Blaine nodded, "Yeah… I…" he shook his head and his smile widened, "My Kurt Hummel-Anderson."

Kurt scrunched his nose, "Why can't your name be first? Kurt Anderson-Hummel… I like that."

Grabbing Kurt's hand, Blaine led him off the platform. "Because…" he bent down and nibbled Kurt's ear, "you'll always come first for me."

Kurt started giggling and he held onto Blaine tighter, letting him guide him over to a pretty, white cake with yellow and red roses dotting it. "Oh!" He squealed, "It's such a pretty cake! I don't even want to cut it."

"You won't notice this," Blaine swiped his finger over the icing, and he held it up to Kurt's mouth. Kurt laughed and licked it off his finger, then he looked down when he felt someone tug his skirt. He found two babies at his feet, and Archer held his own finger up.

"Cake?" He stared up at Blaine, and Blaine laughed and finally had to cut into the cake, giving the babies the first two pieces.

"Go sit down and eat that." Blaine scrubbed their hair, and Hunter immediately spiked his back up. "I don't want you to drop it."

They ran away with the birds chasing after them, hunting for little crumbs. Blaine laughed and turned back to his husband, giving him the next piece. They walked over to one of the tables and sat down, and almost immediately Santana sat down across from them. "How do you guys feel?"

Blaine smiled when Kurt curled into his chest and hugged him tightly, "I've never felt happier." He cooed, and Blaine kissed the top of his head. Putting a bite of cake between his lips, Kurt scooped up another and held it up to Blaine's mouth.

"Oh," Santana teasingly grimaced, "you're one of those couples. I'm going to find someone to dance with and leave you guys alone… since you've already undressed each other in your heads, like, fifty times."

Blaine watched her go with a chuckle, then he returned his attention to Kurt, who was cuddled into his side and practically purring. Wrapping him in his arms, Blaine kissed all over Kurt's face. Kurt smiled and mumbled, "Snuggle me now."

Pulling Kurt onto his lap, Blaine heard a few loud voices behind him, and then his back was violently smacked. "It's Mr. Wedding Man!" Trent guffawed, throwing himself down on the other side of the table. "Hey, Kurt. Long time, no see."

"Oh, hello!" Kurt squeaked, not lifting his head from Blaine's chest. He was too comfortable. "What are you doing here? I'm so happy to see you again!"

The rest of the guys piled onto the other side of the table, hovering over Kurt and Blaine like drooling dogs. Nick grinned at them, "Blaine finally took a job with us and then he told us he was getting married and we couldn't miss that, so we flew in the other day. Besides, we were starting to miss his pretty face." Laughing, Nick pinched Blaine's cheek, and Blaine swatted him away.

Wes held his hand out for Blaine, "Congratulations. We're happy for you."

"Thank you," Blaine said lowly, rubbing Kurt's back. "I'm very happy."

Kurt sighed and cuddled against Blaine's chest, looking up when he heard music start playing. It was one of Blaine's favorite songs, a slowed down version of Cough Syrup, so he quickly patted Blaine's chest. "Blaine, you must dance with me! It's our first song!" He hopped off of Blaine's lap and hurried over to the cleared out area of grass, and Blaine said a brief thanks to his friends for showing up, then he followed Kurt.

He stepped closer to Kurt and pulled him onto his feet, holding onto his bottom and the nape of his neck. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders, "Are you really happy?" He laid his cheek on Blaine's chest, and Blaine sighed heavily.

"I'm really happy." He assured him, gently rubbing his back. He started humming along with the song, remembering that this was the first song he'd ever sung in front of Kurt. Smiling at the memory, he whispered, "Remember when we saw each other two years ago? It was in English class… and you couldn't wait to get away from me."

Kurt laughed aloud, "That's because you bored me with all of your talk of throwing pebbles at my window. It's so cliché."

Blaine burst into laughter, and he hugged Kurt tighter. "It's so cute that you remember what I said so long ago." Nibbling Kurt's ear, he tugged it and said, "And you're too romantic to think that's cliché. You would have loved it if I had done that."

Blushing, Kurt kissed Blaine's neck and said, "Yes… I would have. And I never wanted to get away from you. It's just that… you made me nervous. But I never, ever wanted away from you."

Suddenly getting quiet, Blaine kept humming and dancing with Kurt, turning them in a slow circle. He was so happy that he didn't even remember his fear of being in front of people… nothing bad could have happened at that moment, not when Kurt was in his arms. He abruptly felt someone pat his leg, and he looked down and spotted his babies, both of them smeared in icing. His birds followed them, their beaks covered in white. Blaine started laughing, "Did you two eat it or paint the birds with it?"

Kurt giggled, kissing Blaine's neck again. Archer held his arms up, his teddy bear still swinging in his hand, "Daddy… dance?"

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt batted his lashes, kneeling down beside of Hunter while Blaine scooped Archer up. "They're so sweet. Hunter, do you want to dance with me?"

Hunter bobbed his head to the beat of a faster song when it came on, and Kurt tried dancing as best he could in his high heels and heavy dress. Blaine slowly rocked Archer to the music, not really caring about the beat. Kurt couldn't remember how long he spent dancing to songs, always beside of Blaine, always holding one or the other of the babies. But he was having such a good time, and he was disappointed when guests started walking up to him and saying congratulations and that it was time to go. It meant that his wedding was almost over, and it brought tears to Kurt's eyes.

After a while, he and Blaine sat down at one of the tables and he looked out at the backyard, full of confetti and games that a few of the people were still carrying on. It almost made him smile to see his dad trying to do the limbo, and he had to hide his face in Blaine's shoulder when it looked like his dad was going to rip his pants.

Blaine wrapped his arm around him and rubbed his shoulder, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you upset?"

"Oh, no." Kurt shook his head, "I'm not upset at all. I've had a wonderful day… and I guess I'm just sad that it's about to end. I've been waiting for this day ever since I met you… and I'm so happy that it's here… but now it's almost over."

"Oh, honey." Blaine pulled him onto his lap again and wrapped his arms around him, "Sweetheart, you are so perfect. Kurt, look at me." When Kurt looked up at him, he kissed him on the tip of his nose, "Baby… our wedding is almost over, but that doesn't mean our marriage is. Even after the last guest leaves, we'll still be husband and husband."

Kurt weepily smiled and curled up in Blaine's arms, "You'll still be my husband." He whispered. "Oh, Blaine… I'm so happy."

Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek, "Are you ready to drive over to the airport? We'll be at our honeymoon spot by morning."

"Oh, our honeymoon!" Kurt happily squeaked. "Blaine, you must tell me."

Shaking his head, Blaine stood up and helped Kurt to his feet, then he walked over to the majority of the people. Most of them were gathered around the limbo pole. "Kurt and I are leaving for our honeymoon now. Thanks to everyone for coming out." The words came out naturally, and he didn't stutter or panic when everyone looked at him. It was a relief.

Burt and Carole pulled from the group, along with his aunt and Keegan, and they walked up to the two of them. "Have fun, you two." Burt gave Blaine a hug, then pulled Kurt against him. Kurt's aunt squeezed both of them tight, and Keegan got his turn after her.

"We'll miss you so much." Laurice said to Kurt, stroking his hair.

Keegan grinned at both of them, "Bye. I love you, Kurt."

"I love you!" Kurt blew all of them kisses, walking with Blaine over to the doorway. His babies burst from the crowd, and they hurried up to Blaine and Kurt as if afraid they had forgotten about them. Their birds were immediately after the babies, and they tried climbing up Kurt's dress. Kurt laughed and stroked both of their bobbing heads, "I'll miss you so much, my sweet, little princes." He pulled Hunter against his legs and hugged him, then squeezed Archer tight. "Goodbye, little ones. We'll be home soon."

Blaine scooped both Archer and Hunter up, and he kissed their cheeks, "You're Daddy's good babies. I love you so much."

"Love you," Archer peeped, pawing at Blaine's bowtie. He hugged Keegan to his chest.

Hunter kissed Blaine's jaw, "Love you, Daddy."

Putting the babies down, Blaine watched them tell Kurt the same, and Kurt happily whispered it back to them. They scampered away and grabbed onto Burt's legs, staring at Kurt and Blaine from afar. Kurt waved one more time at them, then he squealed when Blaine scooped him up and cradled him against his chest. He carried him back into the dark house and up the stairs, where they were going to change into casual clothes. Once they were in their bedroom, Blaine walked over to the window and stared down at the people below. "All of those people support what we have," he whispered.

Kurt walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around his neck. Blaine turned around and smiled at Kurt, pulling him close. Tucking his head under Blaine's chin, Kurt peeped, "Are you happy? Do you regret coming out and being with me?"

He couldn't deny that being with Kurt had put them both in danger, but he didn't regret it. Kissing Kurt's mouth, he whispered, "I don't regret coming out. Never. It took almost all of my strength, but being with you is worth everything. Do you regret anything? Do you regret me?" He almost knew what his answer would be. He walked away from him and started unzipping his pants, but Kurt padded up behind him and giggled, wrapping his arms around him again.

"I love you." He whispered in his ear, immediately answering his question. "Can you tell me where we're going now?"

Blaine laughed, trying to push his pants down. "If you keep touching me while I undress, we're going to that bed and we'll miss our plane." He turned his head and kissed Kurt's mouth, "You'll love it there. It's perfect for you, I promise."

Kurt giggled and held onto Blaine while he tried to unbutton his shirt without making Kurt let go, "I'm going to play guessing games the entire way."

Kissing Kurt's cheek, Blaine teased, "And I'll love every second of it. Do you think that hearing you chatter away will get me to crack? I think it's adorable."

Kurt burst into happy laughter that made Blaine's skin warm, then his expression got very soft and he tilted his head, "Are you sure you're happy to be married to me?"

Blaine smirked and he ducked for a kiss, "I've never been this happy." Kurt giggled at that, and he closed his eyes and leaned into Blaine. He slid their fingers together and felt Blaine's rough palms, and he realized that he had probably never, ever been this happy. Kurt was happy that he had made him better, that he was his beautiful thing.


End file.
